The Larger World
by WalkerWalkerChick
Summary: Despite enjoying being with their family, Rick and Carrie's life together is upheaved. A chance encounter leads to a larger world, but is it as safe as it first seems? As the stakes for their family become higher every day, Rick and Carrie risk everything as a threat of unforeseen scale threatens to take it all from them. Sequel to The New Resident and The Stray Passenger.
1. Chapter 1

Welcome welcome welcome!

Can't tell you how thrilled I am to be writing the my third story for Rick and Carrie! I'm excited to get my ideas out of my imagination to be read and enjoyed by so many! If you're interested in character pictures and sneak peaks then head on over to Walking Dead Fan Fiction . com for a hint of what is to come (warning, there be minor spoilers there!)

Please do read a review, I love my new OFC and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on her. Thanks to all!

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Saturday 19th July

An hour in and the welcome party was in full swing, the residents of Alexandria having gone all out to welcome the five outsiders who were in attendance. With the exception of those on watch the entire community had turned up for the evening, bringing with them an abundance of food and drink the likes of which the outsiders hadn't seen for years. Music played from the church's speaker system, softly so as to not be heard outside the walls, while children were fluttering about playing, enjoying the wide selection of food they were allowed to indulge in. Like everyone's did, their gaze constantly fell upon the outsiders, the people who had apparently spent the last six days acclimating to the community.

Maintaining an outward appearance of contentment and extroversion, Lana clutched her ice cold beer and brought it to her lips, the cool taste of the alcohol soothing her. To the many who cast their eyes towards her she seemed confident and carefree, eager to meet and get to know everyone, while on the inside she was nervous and apprehensive. She and her group had been here for almost a week, and yet she was constantly on alert, waiting for something to happen. Any minute now something was going to go terribly wrong, it always did. Any minute now…

She cast her eyes around the crowded church, still trying to take it all in. It felt strange to be surrounded by so many people, particularly those were were at ease and relaxed, completely care free. The wooden pews had been pushed against one wall to make room, the majority of people mingling in the centre with the exception of that one guy who had tried to light up the dance floor. His bad hair and embarrassing dance moves didn't win him any supporters, only a sympathetic friend who had joined him for one song and then implored him to stop when it ended.

Tara.

Repeating the sympathetic friend's name and committing it to memory, Lana looked around the crowded church again, casting her eyes over the people she recognised while repeating their names in her mind. At the same time she looked at each one of her own people, counting them in her head as if taking attendance. The relative safety of Alexandria had not yet hit home for her…she wasn't even sure if she'd slept through the night yet. Every time she lay down and closed her eyes the fight for survival was still there, the sudden surges of adrenaline still seizing her. She could not yet relax, she could not yet let her guard down.

Sticking close with Sonja and Vetor she made the rounds of the church and engaged with people, answering their questions and listening to their introductions. Assimilating into this community was going to take a little while that was for sure, for although many of them came across as very capable and self-aware, some did not. It was immediately apparent which of the Alexandrian's had been here since the very start, though judging by what Aaron and Daryl had told her on the journey here those people had come a long way.

As the leader of her small group, most people's interest and questions seemed to be directed to her, not that she had to speak much. Vetor and Sonja answered for her, giving her the opportunity to gauge these people, and to look around for one in particular. She was glad she didn't have to do much talking, for as if she needed to draw more attention to herself. God, what she wouldn't give to meet another Australian, to hear a voice that sounded like her own. It was bad enough that people noticed her for her face and body, but it was the accent that made her stand out like a sore thumb. Some American's loved her accent, always begging her to say annoying catch phrases from Crocodile Dundee, whereas it irritated others. Either way, it was just another reminder that even within her own group, Lana was an outsider.

Keeping up with the conversation and contributing only as necessary, Lana kept her eyes flittering about the room, still looking around for that one person in particular. She wasn't just here to meet people and get drunk, though the latter had its appeal…she had a goal in mind, something she needed to start working at. It was a task only for her, one that fell to her as the leader regardless of whether or not she called the shots. Although she couldn't see him, she did catch a glimpse of someone close to him…the kid.

What was that kid's name?

From the corner of her eye she watched him, not surprised to see he was sticking close to the woman whose name she also struggled to recall. Michelle? Those two were all but joined at the hip tonight, the kid staying by her side wherever they went. Frankly Lana didn't blame him for sticking close to someone he obviously trusted. Losing an eye was probably quite the blow, and was a likely explanation as to why she had only seen him twice in the six days she had been here. She had caught a glimpse of him sitting on the front porch at his house, and then at the church tonight. He didn't seem to get out much, though she couldn't tell if that was by choice or by restriction.

 _Carl_ , she thought to herself in satisfaction. _That's the kid's name._

Carl was one of the names that brought slightly hushed tones, the Alexandrian's often talking about him as though he was still on his deathbed. A lot of gossip had been shared, but despite that not one word was said against the kid, and it sounded like his near death encounter one month ago had elevated him to some kind of angelic status. At least that's the way it seemed for all but one, for Lana distinctly remembered overhearing someone calling him a cyclops, not that the insult had stood for long. The sour faced teen who made the comment was swiftly yelled at by the long haired girl he was sitting with, the same girl who then walked away from him altogether. Though she didn't know him at all, Lana was somewhat satisfied to see that the kid looked embarrassed and ashamed of what he has said. It definitely seemed like there was some history there, the story of which was slowly unfolding in dribs and drabs of whispered gossip.

It was with disappointment that she saw Carl and the other woman leaving now, despite having only been there for a short while. They had arrived late and were now making an early departure, and from what she had deduced he still wasn't in the best of health. He'd been struck down with infection lately, necessitating more supply runs for Glenn and his crew. Keeping that in mind, Lana knew they were preparing for another run, preparing to depart the following afternoon. Deanna had assigned Lana and some of her group to the run crew, citing low numbers and the impending birth of Glenn's first child, but had been adamant she didn't have to join up immediately. Depending on whether or not she blew her chances tonight she thought she might join them. Vetor would protest, telling her that participating would mean she was starting to assimilate here, that she was getting comfortable when she shouldn't be…maybe he was right.

With her first beer of the night finished, Lana politely excused herself from the group she was with, wondering if there really was enough for each person to be rationed two. As she passed by Vetor he reached out and touched her arm, looking at her with the intensity she was intimately familiar with. He gestured to the far end of the church, silently reminding her of what she needed to do…as if she needed reminding at all. Pulling her arm away she continued on, needing the second drink. She was sure of herself, she knew what men liked and how to get their attention, but something told her this wasn't going to be as easy as usual.

At the drinks table she deposited the empty beer bottle into the appropriate rubbish bin. Like many other things in Alexandria, the bottle would be rinsed and kept, the residents having found many ingenious methods of reuse. Looking into the large eski of ice she happily took another, still surprised by its abundance. This was something she was still struggling to get used to after six days here. Although Olivia was strict with her rations, there was enough for everyone to eat. Every night so far she had gone to bed with a full stomach, not the hunger pains that often plagued her group.

Stepping back from the drinks table so it was easier to go unnoticed, Lana scoped the far side of the church and set her eyes onto certain people, having already ascertained who might pose a threat to her and her group's plans. There was Abraham whose crude humour and boisterous laugh aside was not a man to be messed with, and Sasha who said very little but seemed to listen a lot, her eyes constantly calculating and thinking, planning for the worst. Then there was Daryl, who despite his generosity in bringing Lana and her group to the community was also not a man to be crossed. She could see already the fierce loyalty that shone in his eyes with every word he spoke about his people, every waking moment a testament to them.

Rosita was on the other side of the church, and Lana knew better than to misjudge her based on her apparent friendliness. Already she harboured some serious mistrust in that woman, and with good reason too. Barely an hour after moving her people into the townhouse Deanna had assigned to them did she find Rosita lurking in the living room, trying to evade detection when she was clearly caught somewhere she wasn't meant to be. She made some stupid excuse about looking for an earring she had lost, but in her pocket Lana could see the outline of a small screw driver. At first she worried that the woman was deranged, that she had been lurking there in the living room to attack one of them, but an instant later she plucked a hoop earring from the floor and quickly departed, leaving Lana no valid reason to protest.

It was her mistrust of these people that drove her to break into Deanna's home office and steal her box of video tapes, easily gaining access to them thanks to everyone's habit of leaving their doors unlocked. Taking the box back to her place she hid away in her bedroom to watch the video interviews, wanting to gain a greater insight into the people who she expected to stand in the way of her plans, but there was one interview that captured her attention the most. Moving a little further around the church Lana finally set her eyes on the man she had been looking for, the one who was going to be the focus of her attention that evening. Rick Grimes, Alexandria's co-leader, stood at the far end of the church with a beer in hand and a relaxed smile on his face.

It had taken her well over a minute of watching the interview to realise who it was, to make the connection to the man who had greeted her group at the gate six days prior. That man had been barefoot and in track pants, so surprised by their arrival he still had a butterfly clip in his hair and finger paint on his hands. On the other hand the man on the video tape had been rough and intimidating, his stare one of cold suspicion. That's what had gotten Lana the most about his video interview, his eyes. The light blue colour seemed piercing against the contrast of his dirty skin and wild hair, and even on video tape it felt like they might look right into your soul, seeing a person for what they really were.

Rick had also been present at her interview, minus the hair clip and finger paint. He stood behind Deanna with his arms folded across his chest and his face set in a scowl, and he said nothing. From the brief day of travelling with Daryl and Aaron she had come to prepare herself for the fact that Rick wouldn't likely welcome her group's arrival, and that definitely seemed to be the case. As the interview progressed Lana kept looking over at him, wondering why he bothered being there if he wasn't going to ask her something. It wasn't until the end that Deanna deferred to him, their comfortable conversation lapsing as they often did. As silence fell she turned to him expectantly, and it was then he came forward. He had asked her three questions, ones that Aaron had warned her to be prepared for, and that Daryl had warned her to answer truthfully, no matter what.

He seemed satisfied with her answers, unconcerned by the half dozen people she had killed and her reasons why. As their leader Lana was the last of her group to be interviewed, and no doubt Rick had already made up half his mind about her before they spoke a single word. Apparently she and the others had said and done the right things, for he curtly welcomed her to Alexandria before leaving. Following that she hadn't seen him for days, and for someone who supposedly shared leadership of the community he didn't seem to do a lot of leading. Although perhaps her expectations of him were too high…the kid Carl was his son.

Looking at Rick now, Lana studied him from a distance, taking in as much about him as she could. Being only the third time she had actually laid eyes on him she knew only what she had heard through gossip and rumours, though the information rendered by Aaron and Daryl was infinitely more trustworthy. Back in the old world Rick had been a cop, and had been his group's leader from almost the very beginning of the outbreak. Not one of his people seemed to have a bad word to say about him, though Lana was sure that if they did they wouldn't be sharing it with her. Either way she detected a fierce sense of loyalty among him and his group, one it seemed the rest of the Alexandrian's had begun to develop too.

Tonight Rick seemed as casual and at ease as everyone else, though the way his hand often drifted to the handle of his Colt indicated that just like she, he was on constant alert. Nevertheless he chatted animatedly with those around him, laughing at a joke Carter had made…judging from the jokes she had heard from him earlier Rick was laughing out of politeness. Lana braced herself with a generous sip of beer, figuring this might be a good time to make her way on over. He was comfortable and at ease, but more importantly he was surrounded by his guy friends. If he was like most men he'd be quietly pleased to have a woman showing interest in him, but particularly if it was in front of other men.

But just as she was about to start over there Lana stopped, seeing her place had been taken by someone else. Out of nowhere appeared a woman with shoulder length blonde hair, one who she immediately recognised as Carrie. Given the family's reclusiveness it had taken days for Lana to learn that the community's leader had a son and daughter, let alone a wife.

 _No_ , she corrected herself. _Girlfriend_.

There were no wedding rings on either of their hands, that had been easy enough to ascertain through their limited interactions. Though it was rather a deterrence to know that he was in a serious relationship, it wasn't going to stop Lana completely. What she planned to do wasn't personal. It wasn't even about genuine attraction or lust, though she appreciated that he was a good looking man. Being in a relationship didn't stop every man from receiving the advances of another woman…hell, Lana didn't even have to fuck him to achieve what she wanted. Sometimes her interest in them or the sheer possibility of having her was enough to get her way. Rick being in a relationship wouldn't stop her trying to manipulate him to her advantage.

As comfortable as life here could be, Lana and her group had no intention of staying. All they needed was enough food and weapons to start over somewhere, enough supplies to get them started and on the road to self sufficiency. The food and general supplies would be easy to take, even with Olivia's meticulous record keeping, but it was the armoury that was proving difficult. Inch thick solid doors and combination deadbolts were a little tricker…which was where Rick came in. It seemed that although a good dozen or so Alexandrians had access to the armoury, that access had been expressly denied to Lana and her group. That needed to change.

Wondering if she was about to lose her first opportunity, Lana watched as Carrie said something to him, and when she turned a little she revealed the baby she carried on her hip. She passed the baby over to Rick, and Lana couldn't help but smile as he raised her into the air above his head. The fair haired girl shrieked and kicked her legs wildly, clearly enjoying the game. Bringing her back down to a more acceptable height he kissed her on the cheek and then reached for the small pink bag Carrie held. He left now, and not for the first time Lana noticed that he didn't kiss Carrie on the cheek, he didn't touch her hand as he passed her by. This wasn't the first time that she had noticed they weren't an affectionate couple. Her third day here she had watched from afar for as they tended the gardens and cleaned out the chicken coop together, and not once did they show a hint of physical affection. It was no wonder that it took her days to realise Carrie was his girlfriend, that they had lived together for months. Lana hoped this was a sign of trouble, that Rick was positively starved for affection and intimacy. Maybe it would be easier than she expected to get him into her bed.

With him gone for now Carrie lingered and took his place, talking happily with those he left behind. She gestured to the plaster cast on her arm, perhaps explaining why she had relinquished the baby whose name Lana couldn't remember. But though Carrie smiled and talked animatedly, Lana knew that it was a facade, that it was bullshit. She had met Carrie twice since her arrival, and both times she had been glad to hear she wasn't on the run crew anymore, that she was uninvolved in the day to day running of Alexandria. Carrie seemed to have a fragile look about her, her cheeks always pale and her demeanour quiet. She had not yet seen her looking comfortable and relaxed, her brow often pinched into a frown.

Carrie smiled with her mouth, but not her eyes.

It was almost impossible to avoid hearing the rumours, and even after only six days here Lana knew what had happened to Carrie, how Carl Grimes had come to be shot in the face. The people involved and the intricacies of the relationships were ideal for the script of a soap opera, the attempt on the lives of both Carrie and Carl leaving another woman widowed and the teen partially blinded, never to be the same again. Having learned it all in bits and pieces Lana knew that a fair amount of it was salacious rumours, and it was only after a very frank discussion with Deanna that she got the full story without embellishments. She had demanded Deanna tell her what had happened, that she be fully aware of any grudges or warring families.

But a month later it was all over, the dust on Pete Anderson's murderous grudge slowly beginning to settle. Though the two families lived only one house away from one another, there had been no more fallout from the attack and death of Pete. While Jessie and her sons holed up at home to grieve so too did Rick and his family, explaining the reason Lana had seen so very little of them. The first time she had properly met Carrie was at the Pantry earlier in the week, when Olivia had introduced them when Lana brought her group to collect their first lot of rations. Carrie had been there working on spreadsheets, her broken wrist not holding her back as she tapped away at the laptop. She had smiled politely and said all the right things, but Lana knew that like Rick she wasn't overly pleased by the arrival of newcomers. This assumption was all but confirmed when Mitch and Vetor had joined them to help collect their rations, and as though they had personally offended her Carrie packed up her laptop and went upstairs, barely making eye contact with them as she passed.

Having spent enough time thinking about Carrie, Lana turned her thoughts back to Rick, hoping she had correctly gauged the best way to flirt with him. He was older than her and had been married too, he wasn't as likely to be vulnerable to outright an outright sexual advance. Lana got the feeling he would require a more subtle approach, that if she was going to find herself in his bed it would be after having put in some genuine effort to win his trust and affection. That wasn't going to happen overnight, of that she was sure.

Some time passed, and when Rick didn't return to Carrie within a few minutes Lana opted to move on, knowing she had many opportunities to connect with him that evening. Not caring about the allocated rations she soon moved on to her third beer of the night. If things played out the way she wanted them to, then a beer too many was not going to be her worst crime against Alexandria. She continued making her way around the room, once again joining Sonja and Vetor so they could act as her mouth piece, using them to avoid the spotlight as best she could. It was a difficult task given she was her group's leader, but particularly so given that the eyes of men followed her wherever she went.

She felt Vetor nudging her, and following the slight nod of his head she looked around and saw Rick again. Free of the baby and the girlfriend he now stood in the company of Robert, Tobin and Carol, the latter almost deterring Lana completely. She had seen Carol's video interview too, and immediately recognised the bullshit. No one survived this world and could remain that innocent, that sweet and doe eyed. Much like the others, Lana got the impression that Carol was a woman not to be underestimated, her floral sweater and cookies aside. Frankly, she intimidated her without even trying.

Choosing to wait until Carol was gone Lana ignored Vetor's nudge, a small part of her resenting that he had asked her to do this, while a larger part resented herself for agreeing. This wasn't the first time she had used her body to manipulate someone, to take advantage of their generosity or naivety. But this was going to be harder, Lana knew it, though she tried not to talk herself out of it before she even began.

Finally Carol broke away leaving Rick alone with Tobin and Robert, the other newcomer dubbed little red riding hood thanks to his poncho. He had arrived two weeks prior, Daryl and Aaron having offered him salvation just as they had done to her. She knew him a little already, and with some common ground on which to stand Lana chose to make her move. Pulling her dress down at the front and up at the hem she made her way over, and though they were friendly and welcoming when she joined them she could tell her presence had changed the group dynamic. It was always like that with men. She could anticipate the way they held their breath when they saw her, the way their eyes drop down to her chest. These three were no different.

As they started talking she noticed Rick's eyes drop to her cleavage for the briefest of moments, his lips parting and a flush appearing on the back of his neck. He looked quickly away, but Lana could tell he wasn't going to look again. His body language was all wrong, his feet slightly turned away from her, an outright effort to avoid engaging with her. This carried across to the conversation, Rick appearing to take a back seat and allowing Brody and Tobin to lead, to make the small talk and polite enquiries. Despite his apparent disinterest in her Rick listened and talked politely, but she could tell his attention wasn't on her.

Ten minutes in and Lana knew what the verdict was, that if she stood any chance at all of getting him into her bed it wasn't happening tonight. For a man like Rick it would go one of two ways. Either he'd go home with her that night, already wrapped around her finger and brought to his knees with desire, or he'd take some work. It felt clear already that this wasn't going to result in a one night stand, that she was going to have to extend her effort to get close to him and eventually worm her way into accessing the armoury.

Making a final ditch effort to arouse some kind of interest from him she smiled, laughed and then placed her hand on his arm. It was just above the elbow, her fingertips barely touching him through the rolled up sleeve of his shirt, but usually it was just enough to make a man's heart skip a beat. That's all she wanted from him tonight, to show him the possibility of what he could have from her, that he could have more than just the touch of her hand on his arm. But just like before he gave no response. His skin didn't erupt in gooseflesh, he didn't hold his breath or look at her with a mixture of excitement and wariness…instead he just looked away. While he ignored her Lana kept her hand there for just a moment longer, but then her face fell, something in her peripheral vision making her swiftly take it back.

Carrie was making her way over, the expression on her face making it very apparent that while Rick had ignored the affection, she had not. In an instant Carrie was slipping between them with a warm smile that actually met her eyes this time, and she softly murmured something to him as she staked her territory. There was nothing to question about the way she intimately slid her arm around his waist, her hand dropping low onto his arse before sliding into his back pocket. He returned her smile, though when he slipped his arm around her he seemed to do it more slowly, his hand only coming to rest no lower than the centre of her back. Despite her disappointment Lana watched the interaction curiously, noting this was the first time she had ever seen them being affectionate.

A moment passed before Carrie turned to look at Lana, her warm smile fading into a look of strained politeness. There was no doubting the message being communicated. She was making a clear statement to the woman flirting with her man…he's spoken for. Maybe it was a reminder for Rick too, not that he seemed to have needed it. Having only one other option, Lana smiled pleasantly and started the small talk, glad when Carrie made an effort to reciprocate. Though they talked politely for a few minutes Lana had no delusions as to what was happening here. The way Carrie remained exactly where she was, her arm still around Rick's waist with her hand in his pocket was her reinforcing the message, still warning her. With this in mind Lana stayed only for as long as she could without appearing rude, and then she made her excuses.

It was with a small sense of relief that she walked away, not only glad that she was getting away from Carrie, but from Rick too. If she thought there was even a chance that man might stray from his relationship she would have persisted at the right time and place, she would have reevaluated and tried another tactic at a later time. But just as she had suspected earlier, trying to manipulate Rick Grimes with sex him wasn't going to happen. Yet she was not disheartened, knowing she still had options. She was going to have to change tactics, to go down a more strategic and subtle road if she was ever going to get into the armoury. If that failed, Rick wasn't the only man with access to the armoury. Perhaps someone with a weaker will, someone who mustn't already be enjoying frequent sex with a girlfriend. It seemed almost everyone here had access to the armoury but her group. Carter or Brody might be her next target…hell, she'd even sleep with Sturgess if he had the code.

Though she was glad she didn't have to sleep with Rick, Lana did glance over her shoulder to check him out. He had a nice body, he would have been worth the time…but apparently Carrie didn't think so. Despite her earlier gesture of intimacy she was pulling away from Rick now, a slight move of her shoulders telling him to take his hand back. Even from a distance it looked awkward, Carrie's whole body looking tense for one uncomfortable moment. As if backing away from her Rick took a step to his left, but quickly Carrie had another change of heart. She reached for his hand now, entwining their fingers and closing the gap between them until they stood side by side again. They both seemed happier now, and Lana didn't know what the hell to think.

Taking her leave, Lana was glad to be able to slip away unnoticed, not wanting to say goodbye to anyone. She made her way first through Gabriel's small office and then out the back door, disappointed when there was no one else around. She had been hoping to find someone out here smoking, to take a draw of their cigarette and enjoy the long lost taste of nicotine. Finding herself alone she wandered off towards to the townhouse that was both generous in space and furnishings, but didn't feel like her home. Outside and alone, she took a minute to take in the wondrous and frankly ridiculous sight of Christmas decorations in the windows. Apparently the apocalypse meant there was no reason to forgo Christmas in July.

She was disappointed when she heard the rear door open and close, even more disappointed when she recognised the footsteps coming behind her. Nevertheless she slowed down and let Vetor fall into step beside her. His enquiries started immediately, annoyed that she had given up on Rick so quickly. He implored her to get back in there, to try again, even offering to distract Carrie for a little while. She knew that he was frustrated with her, that never before had her attempt to manipulate a man been less than effective, but she wished he would bloody lay off already. It wasn't him who had to sleep with someone he didn't care about…then again she didn't think that would bother Vetor.

As they reached the front steps to their townhouse Lana sat down instead of going in, hoping that the delay in going inside might mean Vetor returned to the party without her. But instead he stayed, quizzing her again as to what happened, why Rick hadn't been interested in her. Knowing the game she had to play she answered his questions patiently, explaining her thoughts, her plans to turn her affections onto another man instead. She denied that she had forgotten their plans to steal from them and leave, that she was becoming too comfortable and accustomed to the luxuries here.

She had known all along that she was not the genuine leader of their group, that although she had the support of those at the time the decisions and calls she made were not her own. After being ousted as their original leader, a day that had almost led to bloodshed, Vetor had been forced to defer leadership to her, someone who was barely able to legally drink alcohol. He had gone down unwillingly, fighting his own group every step of the way to maintain his position as their leader, but Lana knew what he was doing. As soon as the dust settled and her leadership began there he was, looking over her shoulder and whispering in her ear. While publicly he tended to his wounded pride, privately he was still running the show, making the decisions and using her as his mouthpiece.

Lana didn't blame him for the underhand way he held onto his leadership, suspecting that the others in their group were aware of what he was doing. Despite the coup and the events leading up to it, Vetor had been a good leader. His decisions had saved many of their lives, had kept them safe with a roof over their head and food in their stomach…but slowly things had turned sour, his pride taking priority both before and after Lana became the leader. Soon enough the decisions he made and enacted through her started costing them their safety and security. On more than one occasion it had cost them lives.

She had always felt that Vetor had the most perfect disguise, that his warm Portuguese accent and his friendly eyes made him so deeply trustworthy. Few recognised him as the cold and calculating man he could sometimes be, even before the outbreak had occurred. When they'd first met it had been to Lana's advantage, she would have never made it as a fashion model had she not learnt from him as her agent and mentor. These days it was less advantageous to her, though she would never deny that Vetor had looked after her, that he had never done wrong by her…not directly anyway.

There was no doubt in her mind that Vetor made some shitty calls, and that as his mouthpiece she was the one who suffered the heartbreak of having enacted his will. He was the one who insisted they leave their last place of safety, claiming they had earned what they stole from the people who had clothed and fed them. Vetor would rather them steal and live alongside the dead than survive thanks to the charity of others. It was his calls that saw them back on foot, walking straight into the lair of the Wolves who proceeded to take everything from them, even their lives.

In the heat of the moment there was no way for her to privately ask Vetor what to do, how to handle the attackers who held machetes to the necks of three people. That decision had been solely on her, and in retrospect she felt had made the right calls. At her instruction they gave up their belongings, the weapons that lacked ammunition and the last of their food, and it had been her call that they flee when the Wolves killed the three they had at their mercy. Lana's decision to run had saved five lives, whereas Vetor's call to rob and abandon their last place of safety had led them to that very position in the first place.

She didn't dare express the truth, to tell him that maybe their plan to ditch Alexandria was wrong, that they shouldn't be doing it again. They were going to throw away the safety of a community willing to take them in, and for what? To survive on their own terms? Vetor was too proud, his refusal to recognise this flaw part of the reason he was no longer the group's leader. Perhaps it was time for her to stop letting him do that, time for her to listen to her own instincts and gut for once…though she doubted she had the strength of will to stand up to a man she loved and adored as she did Vetor. What was she supposed to do? How would she stand up to a man who had never heard _no_ from her?

Were she of stronger will she would have told him what she really thought, that it was his fault things didn't work out at the last place, that he was responsible for the deaths of Chris, Astor and Marianne…that she wanted to stay in Alexandria. But she couldn't. She loved him, even though she couldn't make him love her back. It was cruel that she could have any man except him, that he was the only one who wasn't vulnerable to her manipulation. Even after everything they'd been through she was constantly on edge, braced for the inevitability that she would do something wrong and make him leave her.

When Vetor sat down beside her she knew what he wanted, and though she wished he would go back to the party without her she didn't protest. She never did protest, not even before the outbreak when sleeping with him would have been highly frowned upon. It was natural to crave human contact, and there was no doubt in her mind that he loved her genuinely, even if it wasn't enough. They kissed passionately, and there was no gentle build up when he took her hand and put it on the front of his pants, the zip already lowered. She tried not to think about what she had overheard that morning, the sound of him slipping into Sonja's bedroom to be alone with her. Instead she set about pleasing him, convinced that this would be the time things changed, that he would stop using her and treat her as the leader they both knew she was. Any day now things would change. She just had to get it right and then everything would be okay, he'd love her the way she needed him to.

She had hoped that this would be just a precursor, that the touch of her hand was just the start of a long, wonderful night of him in her bed, but it wasn't the case. Instead he let her keep going until a few minutes later he was done, laying back against the townhouse steps as he exclaimed words of praise in Portuguese. Still Lana waited eagerly, craving the intimacy and affection that usually followed freely. She didn't care whose bed he had been in that morning so long as he was in hers tonight and the next, and every night after. When Vetor finally sat up and straightened his clothes he handed her a napkin to clean up, his foresight to bring it telling her this hadn't been spontaneous affection. He had come after her to berate her about giving up on Rick, and to get himself off too. Maybe another night she would have felt that was sexy, admiring how bold and confident he was that she would consent, but tonight all she felt was bitter disappointment.

As he got to his feet they kissed sweetly, and before she could stop herself she grabbed at his shirt, clenching it to make him stay. It was embarrassing, her humiliation growing when he smiled and pushed her hand away, patting it gently as he laid it back onto her leg. The kick in the guts was when he told her to save her passion for _him_ , for Rick Grimes. She didn't bother repeating what she had already told him, that Alexandria's co-leader couldn't be less interested in her if he tried. Instead she accepted the one token of his affection that he offered, gratefully taking two cigarettes and a lighter. Consoling her disappointment, she looked at the tinsel wrapped around the wrought iron handrails, admiring the way the dim lights were reflected in them.

For twenty minutes she lingered there, smoking the first cigarette while the other was tucked behind her ear. The used napkin she had wiped her hands with was wadded up and tossed away, Lana not caring who came across it the following morning and had to pick it up. There was nothing she could do. Vetor was going to get his way like he always did, and in a couple of weeks they'd be packing their bags with food and supplies, taking some stolen guns and ammunition before slipping away in the middle of the night. Like it always was it would have been her call, and the blame for things going wrong thereafter would fall to her, not him.

The party was winding down now, the Alexandrian's perhaps in the habit of turning to bed early. Already three groups of people had departed the church and headed for home, but thankfully none of them headed down past the townhouses, meaning she remained undisturbed. To their credit the rest of her group stayed at the party quite late, putting in some face time and getting to know the people there. It wasn't surprising that it was easier to steal from people you knew well, but Lana hated that part, that she got to know and like these people before inevitably leaving on bad terms.

She had made it to her second and final cigarette when she saw Carol emerging from the church, pushing a small stroller with the baby fast asleep inside. Leaving alone she made her way across the grass and then onto the road, enjoying the moonlit stroll with the little girl she helped care for so often. A minute later two more followed, and it was them that Lana paid the most attention to. As she watched their silhouettes she listened to their conversation, envying the way Rick held Carrie's hand as he helped her walk across the grass. She was laughing at something, her light hearted giggles making Lana suspect she had indulged in a little too much wine that evening.

When they reached the pavement they slowed to a stop, and she watched as Rick crouched down and helped Carrie step out of her high heels. He yelped in pain, admonishing her for grasping his hair to steady herself, but he didn't seem genuinely annoyed. When he stood he held her shoes in one hand and linked his arm around her elbow, his tone one of amusement as he reminded her to watch where she was going, to put one foot in front of the other.

They walked at a leisurely pace, and when they passed into the light cast from a nearby house Lana caught a proper glimpse of them. Carrie was looking up at him with nothing other than drunken adoration in her eyes, suddenly proclaiming how much she loved him. At this Rick burst out laughing, shaking his head as he focused on keeping her steady and upright. _You're drunk, Sweetheart,_ he reminded her before returning her words of affection, though a little more softly. They kissed now, and then without wasting any more time resumed their short journey.

Taking a long draw on the cigarette, Lana watched enviously as they walked home together, glad that they soon disappeared from sight and headed back to their perfect life together. There was no stopping the envy that flooded through her, and she wondered if Carrie knew how much she had going for her, if she appreciated all she had. A safe place to live, someone who loved her, two step-children to raise. It was nine o'clock in the evening now, and not once had Vetor acknowledged what this particular day meant to them both, that it had been exactly seven years since she was picked up from the airport and delivered to his modelling agency. With a sinking heart she suspected he knew what the date was, but that he had chosen to ignore it.

Today was her twenty third birthday.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi everyone - thanks for a great reception to the prologue/chapter 1, I'm glad you enjoyed the new POV and that so far you seem to be liking the new OFC Lana (or at least pity her appropriately). To answer some questions, this story will still revolve around the POV of Rick and Carrie, and may only occasionally venture into other character POVs (19 draft chapters so far, and only Rick and Carrie POVs).

Without further ado, please read, enjoy and review chapter 2!

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Thursday 28th August

Despite the fact that summer was drawing to a close, late August brought with it a heatwave that bore down in full force. Sweating like a pig and thoroughly uncomfortable, Carrie fanned herself with the road map in attempt to stay as cool as possible, to bring herself any kind of relief she could. Sunlight poured through the run van's windscreen, the glass intensifying the heat felt by the unfortunate occupants inside.

It had been a tough day already without the heat, the run crew having left Alexandria well before sunrise. Their van and pick up truck were crammed full of supplies, having already spent the morning scavenging through a motel, holiday park and fast food outlet, and the shopping centre they were parked outside of was to be their second last stop. They might have just enough room to scavenge here before they reached capacity, meaning the derailed passenger train would have to wait another week.

Carrie had lowered the driver's side window by two inches, and it was through the too gentle breeze that she managed to find a slither of relief. Like it had been for the last ten minutes the radio on the van's dashboard was silent, and she couldn't help but feel the inanimate object was mocking her. It felt like she had been waiting a lot longer than ten minutes, though she figured she best not vocalise her complaints. Waiting in the van was better than the task the others had taken up, which was to double check that the shopping centre was empty. Their group of six had split up, Carrie and one other remaining behind while the rest went ahead, venturing into the dark shopping centre that was equally hot and reeked of decomposition.

Resisting the urge to lower her window further, lest she invite a Walker to sneak up on her, Carrie took a small sip of water and subtly glanced at the person occupying the passenger seat. Lana patiently waited, her elbow resting on the windowsill while she fanned herself with a notebook. Even in ninety five degree heat, sweating like a pig and spattered with Walker guts, Lana still managed to look like a model…apparently that aspect of her former life hadn't changed. Her perfect blonde hair wasn't a bit out of place, her pink lips plump and her skin tanned as if she'd just returned from a day at the beach…Carrie hated her guts.

Lana and her group had been recruited by Aaron and Daryl in mid July, and though the woman had done little to deserve it Carrie had taken an almost immediate dislike to her. It was stupid, she knew that, but it didn't change the way she felt. Like anyone else who had been recruited for Alexandria, Lana and her small group took some time to settle in and adjust to the sudden change from living out on the road, but within a couple of days they were out mingling in the community. Until then Carrie had little to do with her, but it was during the welcome party at the church that her dislike erupted.

In hindsight she knew she had overreacted, that there was no harm or reason to be upset when another woman showed interest in Rick, but Carrie was. The sight of a beautiful woman like Lana flirting with him made her blood boil, inciting an immediate hatred of her. It didn't matter that Rick politely ignored her advances, nor that Lana turned her attention elsewhere when she realised that he was spoken for. In many ways Lana was a spitting image of herself, only in Carrie's mind she was a younger and more beautiful version. She had the body of a supermodel and the face to match it, not to mention the long blonde hair that she knew Rick liked. It didn't help that at the time of the otherwise innocent flirtation Carrie and Rick weren't having sex, this making her feel particularly vulnerable to another woman flirting with him.

As this memory occurred to her Carrie withheld the sigh she wanted to release. Though she and Rick had made it work, picking up where they had left off wasn't as easy as it sounded. So much had happened, and after they had reconciled and comforted one another their attention turned to Carl, to supporting him during a time that he needed his father the most. So while the attention was on him Carrie quietly worked through her own issues, leaning on others like Denise and Carol until she came to learn that she could still lean on Rick too. But despite how well things started, in the wake of Pete's attack her head felt like it was all over the place, and it was over a month before she could let Rick do anything more than embrace her.

During that time she felt herself longing for his touch, only to find that it sent a shiver up her spine when she received it. He patient with her, understanding of what she had gone through, of how her history before meeting him made everything that much more difficult. In hindsight Carrie knew that it was she who put more pressure on herself, that even after swapping with Carl and moving into Rick's bedroom he hadn't tried to advance the intimacy. The first night of sleeping in the master bedroom ought to have been a long night of uninterrupted sex, and yet the two of them went to straight to sleep. When Lana and her group arrived a month after the attack she and Rick still weren't having sex, her self-consciousness about this making it easier for her to overreact when Lana flirted with him.

Since then things had started to settle down, and tentatively she began to feel better in control of her life, perhaps coming to accept what had happened to both herself and Carl. Certainly the many hours she spent sharing a pot of coffee with Denise had helped her work things through. In total a month passed before something changed, before the sensation of anyone touching her started to feel natural. A few days after the welcome party Carrie awoke early one morning, her heart swelling as she looked at Rick asleep beside her. He slept entirely on his side of the bed, making no attempts to reach out for her even in his deepest slumber. Missing him, she moved towards the centre of the bed and snuggled up against his back, her arm clad in a plaster cast carefully slung around his waist. When he awoke a few hours later it was she who initiated the kiss, it was she who deepened it to more than just the brush of their lips.

When she tried to initiate more he turned her down, not that this came as a surprise to her. She knew he wanted to have sex, there was no hiding the physical desire he had so obviously felt that morning, but he wanted them to take their time. He knew how upset she had been when Lana flirted with him at the welcome party, and she knew how guilty she felt that their sex life had been non-existent for so long. Regardless of how much he wanted it he had turned her down that morning, affording her the kiss and embrace she asked for before forcing himself to get out of bed. While she laid in bed and welcomed Judith beside her, Rick disappeared into the ensuite and took a rather long shower, the type he'd taken more than a couple of times lately.

It wasn't until the night before Alexandria celebrated Christmas in July that anything more happened. With the effects of pain killers wreaking havoc on him Carl had already been asleep for hours, while everyone else on the house had suspiciously made themselves scarce. Taking advantage of their privacy, Rick and Carrie had settled onto the couch with a Christmas movie and glass of egg nog, not that they ended up watching much of the movie. It had been exactly what they both needed, the natural progression of the growing intimacy helping her relax and feel at ease, and things had picked up from there.

Noticing a heavy sigh she gave, Lana looked around at her in concern. "You okay?"

Her husky Australian accent grated on Carrie's nerves, though no one else found it particularly offensive. "Yes," she said lowly, looking out the other window.

"It's farken' hot," Lana added brusquely. She opened the soft cooler at her feet and rustled around inside, and then passed her a bottle of slightly cooler water. "They'll be okay," she added kindly.

Though Carrie took the water and drank some her petulance didn't allow her to extend any gratitude. "Tara knows what she's doing."

There was a slight pause. "So do Vetor and Sonja."

It was a relief when the two women fell into silence once again, Carrie looking into each of the van's mirrors before checking out the windows. There was no sign of their people, but she knew better than to signal to them over the radios. They didn't have any working headsets on this run, having lost their best ones a few weeks ago…that was part of the general supply list, more headsets. As she started fanning herself with the roadmap she started to feel a little less impatient with the rest of her group, though still she worried for them. Ten minutes was a long time to be making a walk around the shopping centre that should already be clear.

A bead of sweat rolled down between her breasts, serving to remind her of how uncomfortable she was. Her stomach gurgled worrisomely, and she shifted around in the driver's seat to adjust the tight waist band of her jeans. The heat made her feel bloated and unhappy, and all she wanted to do was go home and seek refuge in the air conditioning. Carl would be going to school in an hour or so, and Judith was probably waking from her morning nap, that's if she had taken it at all. She was getting particularly frustrating with her morning naps, only ever laying down for twenty minutes at a time. But as long as she took her afternoon nap Rick seemed happy, particularly given that this was the best time for he and Carrie to be alone. Since they started having sex again they both particularly looked forward to Judith's afternoon naps.

"Finally," Lana exclaimed, gesturing to the west side of the shopping centre where four figures had emerged. "Let's get this started."

Without a word to respond Carrie started the van's engine again, and when the cold air conditioning started she directed her vents straight onto her face. Immediately she felt herself cooling, the uncomfortable gurgling in her stomach easing. Allowing only a moment of relaxation she put the van into gear and started off towards the others, easing past a Walker that had been slowly heading towards them. Making their way through the scattered cars in the parking lot, she made eye contact with Tara who directed her to the right, indicating the best place to leave the van. Pulling into the place suggested, she killed the engine and pocketed the keys.

"You have the keys?" Lana asked.

"Yes, I have the keys," she replied shortly. She shouldn't be annoyed that Lana was checking this, for the verbal acknowledgement of who had their vehicle's keys was a normal part of their routine…a part she herself enforced.

Detecting her frustration, Lana appeared to roll her eyes as she collected their weapons, tossing Carrie her jacket before getting out of the van. She slammed the door shut and then rounded the front, leaving Carrie behind as she walked away and headed to the front of the shopping centre where the others waited. As she watched her go Carrie didn't blame her for not waiting, knowing that it's exactly what she would have done had someone been that rude to her. Yet again her irrational jealousy reared it's ugly head as she noticed the way Lana was walking. Even years after the end of the world she still walked with the confident and powerful strut of a model.

"Everything still looks all clear inside," Tara announced, having waited for Carrie to join them before giving the recount. "There are some Walkers around the back, not many, but it all looks clear inside."

"The doors are all still open from our stop last week," Carter added. "The stereos we placed drew the dead out, and there wasn't much reason for them to go back in."

"We still need to be careful," Lana said cautiously. "There could be Biters trapped, they could still be hanging out in there."

Carrie grit her teeth, resisting the urge to tell Lana that they all knew that already. This was the third supply run she had been on with Lana, having only taken up the role in the last month when Glenn was awaiting Herschel's birth. It didn't matter that everything had been going smoothly since Lana joined their community and run crew, that she wasn't the type who intentionally made waves…this was all on Carrie, this was all her issue, and so she wised up and kept her mouth shut.

"Let's split up," Sonja suggested, wanting to get on with things. "Two groups of three?"

"Yes," Vetor readily agreed, looking around at them. "Perhaps myself, Carrie and-"

Carrie felt her heart lurch, and before consciously deciding to do so she opened her mouth and interrupted him. "No," she said sharply.

The abruptness of her interruption rendered Vetor silent, his brow furrowed in slight confusion. Though there had always been a clear leader on each supply run, they operated and worked as a team, and normally they did so quite well. They weren't in the habit of cutting off or overruling one another unnecessarily. As the awkward silence came to pass Carrie glanced at Tara, and without having to ask she knew that her friend understood, that she had her back. Taking a deep breath Carrie glanced around the parking lot to ensure their safety, and then turned her attention to their newcomers, Sonja and Vetor. They had been with Lana when Aaron and Daryl recruited their small group, and they had been willing volunteers when Tara and Glenn put the run crew back into action.

Sonja was a quietly spoken woman who was more than capable of handling herself out here, and unlike Lana hadn't grated on Carrie's nerves. But it was Vetor who felt like the other thorn on Carrie's side, though he too had done nothing to deserve her dislike. It didn't matter how hard she tried not to feel this way, to set aside her irrationality, but she simply couldn't stand to be in Vetor's company. When she heard he was joining them on their run today she considered backing out, prepared to feign sickness until she got herself together. Vetor was a warm and jolly man, his delightful Portuguese accent and charismatic smile a complete contrast to _Victor_ , one of the men who had raped her over a year ago…and yet every time she looked at him that's what she remembered. It was an unlucky coincidence that their names were similar, but even their opposite personalities were not enough to ease her discomfort.

"We should have three groups of two," she finally managed to suggest, her voice a little unsteady until she continued. "There are two wings of this shopping centre. One pair for each wing, and one pair guarding the two entrances."

Everyone glanced at Tara, continuing only when she gave a nod of agreement. She was the leader of the run crew, she had the final say. Looking at Carrie it was clear she understood, and she nodded in agreement, giving her permission.

"Okay," Sonja also agreed, nodding her head. "Carter? You and me?"

He nodded his head, a small smile crossing his lips. "Sure. And…"

"Carrie and I will go together," Lana piped up, folding her arms as she looked at Carrie.

Squashing down her protest, Carrie nodded politely. "That leaves Tara and Vetor," she said in conclusion, glancing their way to ensure they were satisfied with this. "Tara, you guys have the supply list from Denise?"

"Yeah. We'll take the east wing for the drug store. You have the school supplies and shoes list," she added. "You and Lana take the west. Sonja and Carter can stand watch."

Without further ado the three pairs separated to confer for a few moments, Carrie and Lana stepping back and opening their satchels to double check inside. Like often the silence filled with tension, Lana knowing that Carrie disliked her, just not why.

"You're welcome, by the way," Lana said softly, raising her head and looking at her.

"For what?"

"For me pairing up with you," she said bluntly. A moment later she seemed to soften, her shoulders relaxing as she looked towards the open entrance to the shopping centre. "Look, I don't know what your problem is with Vetor, but he's a decent man."

"I know."

"Well it's just you act like you have a problem with him."

Carrie too raised her head and looked Lana in the eye. "I don't have a problem with Vetor."

"Fine," she conceded, looking back into her bag. "I just wanted you to know he's a good guy. He's never tried anything with anyone who didn't invite him to, okay?"

Her frustration grew exponentially, annoyed that Lana seemed to know exactly what the problem was, and what it stemmed from. Alexandria was still a fishbowl…people talked, and it shouldn't come as a surprise that Lana would know about what had happened with Pete. Even ten weeks later gossip and rumours were still rampant, Pete's attack and subsequent death the biggest thing that had happened in a long time. Many people still believed that he had actually raped her, that Carl's injury had come about when he walked in on him in the act…no amount of dispelling the rumour was going to change what people thought.

"Got everything?" she asked, making an effort to smooth her tone of voice.

Getting the hint to change the subject, Lana nodded and then showed her the open bag. "Water, gloves, ammunition, spare knives. You?"

"The same," she muttered, dutifully proving it. This too was a procedure Carrie and Tara encouraged, recognising the importance of knowing exactly what supplies each person carried on themselves. Following another procedure she slipped on her jacket to protect her arms from bites and scratches. Yet again she wished it wasn't so damn hot.

Moments later the group of six reconvened and entered the shopping centre together, taking a few moments to scope things out before going on their separate ways. While on one hand Carrie felt relief as soon as they were in the shade of the interior, within seconds of stepping inside the enclosed space her stomach began gurgling again. It was always the same, and no amount of Vaseline underneath her nose would ever be enough to quell the stench of Walkers, particularly when they had occupied an enclosed space such as a shopping mall. On one hand Carrie had grown used to this particular stench, but on the other hand it was particularly pungent given the heat wave of late August. Her head started to spin, her heart rate and breathing speeding up a little as she tried to quell her uneasy stomach. Doing what she could, she lifted her shirt and covered her mouth and nose, unsurprised when the others did the same.

The group made another quick walk through of the shopping centre, taking out a couple more Walkers as they went. When they were certain that it was safe enough to separate they went back to the entrance hall and split up, checking their watches and agreeing to check in intermittently. They would have half an hour to scavenge before reconvening and reassessing their plans. As she and Lana departed they collected a shopping cart…as if the world was mocking her, the one Carrie selected had a broken wheel. She angrily shoved it aside and collected another, not flinching when she had to haul a decayed corpse out from under it.

"Where to first?" Lana asked, keeping her voice low as they made their way through the centre.

"Shoe store," Carrie replied, still trying to ignore her accent.

"Ahhh that's right," she said pleasantly. "You need shoes for your step-daughter? Judy?"

Carrie didn't bother correcting the title of step-daughter. "Yes." As they looked around for a suitable shop front, she again reminded herself to watch her tone. Lana didn't deserve to be treated like this…it was all Carrie's problem. "She's outgrown three pairs in as many months."

"Did you bring an outline of her foot?"

"Yes. All of the kids traced their feet for us," she said, gesturing to her satchel.

"You'll need to go up a few sizes for winter shoes," Lana said helpfully. "She'll keep growing, and when you put warm socks on her you'll need a bigger size shoe again."

Carrie frowned to herself, having not expected this. Rick had told her all she needed to know when it came to selecting shoes for their daughter, but he hadn't mentioned that. "Thank you. That's really…helpful."

Finding the right store, they left the cart outside and then turned on their flashlights, needing more light inside than the centre's main sky lights could provide. From the front of the store they scoped out the aisles, taking note of the corpses they would need to check before daring to walk past them, and then the internal door at the rear. Setting aside all dislike she held for Lana, she readied herself to clear the store and then went in, the two women walking side by side. They cleared the aisles, nudging the corpses to ensure they hadn't reanimated in any way, and then cautiously opening the internal door. In less than a minute they had cleared the combined store room and staff room, and quickly set about opening the lockers and looking through the personal belongings. There were three bags there that had been left behind, and she smiled when she found an iPad in one of them. Rick had a surprising knack for Candy Crush, having cited many long nights on the graveyard shift. It would be great for Alexandria to have another iPad to share amongst the many residents.

"Oh, God…" Carrie muttered, clutching her stomach as a sudden wave of nausea passed over her. The stench of the sole Walker they had killed in the store room was particularly dreadful, and it felt like it was permeating her very pores. She resisted the impulse to take a deep breath, knowing that would only make the nausea worse, and instead forced herself to swallow the saliva building in her mouth.

"You okay?" Lana asked, rushing over. "Carrie?"

Taking a moment to collect herself, Carrie nodded and then stood up straight. Lana was looking at her in concern, worried about her state. Moments later she was digging around in her satchel before she handed over her jar of Vaseline, insisting Carrie take it.

"It's so farken' hot," Lana said, and not for the first time today. "Nothing like Marble Bar in January, but still farken' hot."

Taking some Vaseline, Carrie smeared it across her upper lip to help with the stench, and then handed it back. "How hot does Marble Bar get?"

"Easily over forty five degrees, and that's without trying."

Her impatience rearing its ugly head again, Carrie raised her eyebrows at Lana and looked at her expectantly.

"Shit," she muttered, wiping sweat off her forehead. "Like…at least over a hundred and ten degrees Fahrenheit."

"That is hot," she agreed, trying to be pleasant. "Thanks," she said next, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Let's get outta here. It didn't smell so bad on the shop floor."

She was about to say no, to suggest they rummage through the stock room first, but barely a second passed before the heat and stench got the better of her. Unable to hold it back she bent over double and vomited, her shoulders heaving and her eyes watering. Waiting patiently for her to finish, Lana scrounged up a jacket from the lockers for her to wipe her mouth with.

"Do you want to go back to the van?"

"No, I'm done," she muttered, taking a swig of water and then spitting it out. Done with it, she lay the jacket over the mess she had made. "And we need to finish in the store room here. We can't leave this stuff behind."

Without wasting any more time Carrie set to work, feeling immensely better now that the nausea was passing. Feeling a bolt of energy she got started, shining her flashlight across the shoeboxes on the shelves to find the correct size. Handing Lana the traced outlines of all the children's feet she climbed the ladder and started pulling down boxes, the two of them making quick work, though the necessity of avoiding the place she had vomited was a little annoying. In less than ten minutes they had a pile of shoes by the internal door, having more than enough for every child in Alexandria, and a sizeable collection for the adults too. They checked the safety of the shop floor before Lana headed out to bring their shopping carts into the store, and they quickly tossed their loot in, leaving the boxes behind to save room.

Leaving the shoe store they went back out into the main shops, using their radio to check in with the others as they went. They slowly made their way through the centre and then found the next store to target, though Carrie was reluctant.

"A gift shop?"

"It's a novelty gift shop," Lana said, gesturing to the flat blow up hand in the window. "They might have novelty condoms."

Carrie didn't want to bother, having started to feel unwell again, but she couldn't deny Lana's suggestion was necessary. Alexandria was experiencing a worrying shortage of contraception, and given that Pete had been in charge of that particular inventory before his death no one had been informed of the potential crisis. Already contraception was being rationed, and if they didn't manage to bring in more Alexandria was at risk of a population boom. With little else to do, abstinence was rarely practiced.

In no time at all they had cleared the store and were making their way through it, looking for anything that could be of use. Taking an oversized birthday card off the rack Carrie fanned herself with it, sweat moistening her shirt and hairline. It was happening again, she could feel the nausea coming on, but she just had to get as much work done as possible. As she went she collected the gift wrapping paper and stationary, knowing that the school could use it for some crafts. Beginning to feel rather pleased with Lana's suggestion, Carrie smiled when she found some children's nail polish she could paint Judith's fingernails with, and then a Lava Lamp that Carl might like. While Lana cleared the shelves of the novelty condoms and bandaids, Carrie looked for other things, taking painting sets and colouring books, pencils and glue, anything that the children might enjoy. She kept smiling now, feeling her mood improve with each small success. It was immensely satisfying to be part of a supply run that was as successful as theirs had been today.

As she dumped her loot into the shopping cart and went back inside she slowed down to a stop, her head becoming heavy and her knees weak. Grateful for the warning her body gave her she clutched a shelf and bent over double, waiting. To her frustration Lana rushed towards her again, having noticed her predicament, and she stood by as Carrie started vomiting again. She had two bouts before her stomach finally settled, and to her disbelief her nausea was instantly replaced by hunger.

"Jesus," Lana chuckled, trying to make light of the situation. "Are you sure you're not-"

"Carl had the stomach flu last week," Carrie said sharply. "Got it?"

There was a long silence, Lana's concerned expression souring. "Well excuse me for giving a flying fuck about your well being," she said cooly.

"A what?"

"A flying fuck," she repeated. "Excuse me for caring."

Carrie washed her mouth out a second time and then spat the water onto the floor. "Did you get all the condoms?"

"Yes."

"Let's go."

Both of them feeling slighted by the other they set off in silence, though that wasn't to last.

"So which is it?" Lana began bluntly, her mouth twisted into a scowl. "You got a wicked case of PMS, or are you just a bitch?"

Silently fuming at her, Carrie wished it was that simple. "Can we just get on with this?"

"Fine by me."

Each of them scowling now, they walked in silence and avoided eye contact, both wishing that Lana hadn't volunteered for them to go together. Maybe she would have been better off with Vetor after all. Nevertheless they got on with things, and after a few moments of frustration they individually pulled themselves together and returned their focus to the task, to keeping one another safe. As they silently swept through the shopping centre, looking in and around the various stores, Carrie found comfort in the fact that at least she wasn't there with Nicholas. No matter what happened today she knew that Lana would have her back, and that she had hers in return.

At the very end of the shopping centre they came to the supermarket, one they needed to take a closer look at today. Leaving their shopping carts further back they approached slowly, keeping their flashlights dimly lit as they scoped out what they were up against. They had already scoped this out earlier, already assured that the Walkers were kept back by the the grilles, now it was just a matter of taking a proper look inside.

A dozen snarling corpses were pressed up against the grilles, leaving behind blood and gore as they struggled to reach through them, longing to get their hands into them. Taking one of the chairs from a nearby donut shop, Lana carried it over to the security grilles and stood on it, boldly shining her flashlight inside. "It's been looted already," she observed, taking a thorough look. "Might be plenty of raw materials left though. It looks like it might have been early on, back when people were…"

As she continued explaining Carrie tuned out, mentally rolling her eyes. She knew what Lana was explaining, that if the supermarket had been looted early on then people would have been looking for ready to eat food, anything that could be stored and consumed with ease. What would be left behind was things like flour and baking soda, crucial supplies for preserving food such as salt and vinegar. It annoyed Carrie that Lana seemed to find it necessary to explain this to her, as if she wouldn't know what might be left behind after the first round of looting.

Though she would have liked to tell Lana to _shut the hell up_ , Carrie simply waited impatiently, fanning herself as she looked around. She was well used to being in places such as an abandoned shopping centre, the cavernous and dark space no longer intimidating and scary the way it once was. In a place like this she was in her element, comfortable knowing what type of sounds were normal and what were not, which moving shadows were tricking her and which indicated danger.

"We'll need more people to take this on," Lana decided, stepping down from the chair and returning to Carrie. "There's a lot of work to do, and we'll need to bring some trucks. We haven't got the room today, not with everything else we're bringing back."

For the second time Carrie chose to bite her tongue. These factors had of course occurred to her already. "Sounds like a…plan." She stopped herself just before saying _'_ _good plan_ _'._

Either not picking up on her annoyance or choosing to ignore it, Lana directed her flashlight into the donut shop in the centre of the wide shopping mall, walking around it before gracefully jumping the counter and letting herself in. Carrie did the same, the two of them looking around and scavenging what they could. It appeared the first looters hadn't looked in here, and they were lucky to find a variety of baking supplies and heavy bags of flour. Pleased with the various sprinkles and tubs of ready to eat frosting, Carrie felt her mood lift as they loaded up their shopping carts with their loot. She and Lana even managing to share a rare laugh when they critiqued the Employee of the Month, a freckle faced teenaged boy who was pulling a face the framed picture that hung behind the front counter.

"Let's take a look in here," Carrie said as they were pushing their shopping carts back towards the entrance of the mall.

"A music shop?" Lana frowned, looking up at the sign when Carrie shone her flashlight there. "What do you need in there?"

"Music."

Leaving her shopping cart behind Carrie headed towards the wide open front doors, cautiously shining her flashlight down each of the aisles. There was a corpse on the floor, its advanced state of decay indicating that it had died long ago and wasn't a risk for reanimation. Scoping out all the aisles, she set her eyes on something that she desired…or more accurately, something that would make Carl hit the roof with excitement.

"You're not going to find contraception in a music store."

Hearing Lana's abrasive tone, Carrie's hackles were immediately raised. She turned to her and narrowed her eyes. "Like we found contraception in the beauty store?"

"We fo-"

"You found tanning lotion and leg wax, that's what you found."

Lana straightened her shoulders, clearly readying herself for an argument. "And you found Dread Wax for Michonne and Clearasil for your kid."

"If you get to waste time, then so do I," she decided, already walking into the store.

"Carrie!" Lana hissed, keeping her voice down as best she could. "We're already late. They're waiting for us!"

Ignoring her, Carrie methodically cleared every single aisle of the store to ensure her safety, completely bypassing the items of interest to her. When all of the aisles were clear she stepped behind the counter and looked at the door that lead to the managers office and storeroom, listening for any sound. The door was properly closed, and the round door knob meant that even if there were walkers inside, they wouldn't be able to get out. If it were handles that could accidentally be pushed down to let Walkers out she would have been forced to clear the rooms proactively, but today she left them untouched.

Heading back out into the mall she was unsurprised to see that Lana had ditched her. She had taken the shopping carts and returned to the entrance where the others would be waiting, and though Tara would have some choice words for her, Carrie didn't blame her. It was a longstanding rule that you never split up your team on a supply run, that one person is never left behind while another goes on ahead, but Carrie had been asking for it. She was being uncooperative and annoying, and in Lana's shoes she would have been tempted to do the same.

Pushing a shopping cart to the entrance, she went back inside and began browsing the racks of CDs and vinyl. It was a perk of the job that supply runners could take whatever loot they wanted for themselves, that as long as they handed over essential supplies they were allowed to keep whatever they pleased. Diamond jewellery, coffee beans, wide screen televisions, Playstations…it was all theirs for the taking. Right now Carrie was shopping not for herself, but for Carl, whose taste in rock and roll music left a lot to be desired. Only a fourteen year old would think that Nickleback were the only true rock legends.

Looking through the racks she collected CDs from various artists, smiling as she stowed a Jimmi Hendrix and Nirvana CD, leaving the Guns and Roses when she remembered someone already had a copy at home. When Tenacious D caught her eye she took it for Daryl, whereas it was Daft Punk that Tara and Glenn would enjoy the most. Her satchel bulged as she expanded the genres, seeing a few that she too might like, and one that she queried would be of interest to Rick. His taste in music had been a surprising insight, particularly when they started sharing an iPod together.

Emptying the CDs into the shopping cart, she gave herself a moment of fresh air and then smeared some more Vaseline across her upper lip, trying to mask the stench of the dead. Normally she was a lot more tolerant of it, and rarely resorted to masking it, but apparently not today. Steeling herself, she returned to the store and went to the items that had first caught her attention, the electric guitars that would be a birthday gift for Carl. Unlike in choosing wine or coffee beans she was far from an expert in the field of musical instruments, and so she took her time to make her choice.

There were many to chose from, each of them varying in price, and purely out of habit she moved on to the more expensive ones. Rick's eyes would have bulged if he saw the price of some of them, and if he were buying one in the old world he wouldn't have even considered the higher end range. But Carrie on the other hand was used to this, the cost being a mere drop in the ocean for her. As she pondered the choice between a matte black guitar and a glossy white, she wondered if this would be a birthday gift given by she and Rick together, or just from her. She knew it was splitting hairs, that the fact Rick didn't go out scavenging to find the guitar himself didn't mean anything, but part of her wanted to give Carl a gift that was only from her.

Rick already had two gifts that were clearly from a father, so shouldn't she have a gift solely from her? As she pondered her choices she remembered her own birthday gifts as a child, how even though the card said it was from mom and dad, her dad had absolutely no idea what was inside the box. For that matter most of the time her mom didn't even know, as more often than not it was her nanny who was sent to do shopping for her birthday. God knows her nannies knew her better than her parents did.

Making her choice, Carrie reached up and carefully removed the matte black guitar from the display, blowing the dust off. It would perfectly match the watch Rick intended to give his son for his birthday, one she had helped him chose months ago while they were on the supply run to Georgia. Regardless, she would consult with Rick and Michonne over the final choice. Taking down two other guitars she carefully carried her loot out to the waiting shopping cart and then looked down the shopping mall, the shadows on the wall informing her that Lana was returning. _God damn_ …even in shadow her body was perfect.

Going back inside before she had to tolerate her any more, Carrie began looking for the other necessities that belonged with the electric guitars. An amplifier would be needed, but if Carl's guitar stood any chance of making it inside the house then a pair if headphones were required, Rick's insistence not hers. He was often yelling at Carl to turn his music down, that was when he wasn't confiscating the rap and hip hop CDs he couldn't stand him listening to. Headphones were already a must to maintain peace and harmony in their home.

Deep in the store, Carrie shone her flashlight over the various headphones, again veering towards the more expensive ranges. She studied their features carefully, and so engrossed was she that the sound of a door opening and then closing barely registered. It was only the sound of light footsteps followed by a shy giggle that got her attention, the intrusion on the silence making her heart lurch. Feeling a moment of sheer panic, she got herself together and then lowered herself to the floor, placing the end of her flashlight against her leg to hide the light. On her left hip she fumbled to find her radio, needing to alert the rest of her group that they weren't alone in here.

"Richard, stop it," a woman giggled softly. There was a slight scuffle followed by a long sigh. "Mmmm, no. Come on…we have to watch our asses."

"I'm watching yours," a deep voice said, his tone laced with innuendo that made Carrie's skin crawl.

"Tara, do you copy?" she whispered, simultaneously lowering the volume on the speaker. She pressed it right up against her ear and then continued when she heard Tara's affirmation. "I need back up, now. I'm in the music store, there are people here."

With that said she turned the volume all the way down and returned the radio to her hip, breathing slowly as she listened to the people moving around the store, trying to gauge how many. Her estimate was two, a man and a woman. To her horror the two people appeared to part, the shadows of their flashlights separating in different directions before one began closing in on Carrie. Her heart skipped a beat as she turned off her flashlight completely and slipped it into her satchel, choosing instead to occupy her hands with her knife and Ruger. Psyching herself up to protect herself at any cost she breathed slowly and then rose to a half crouch, knowing that she couldn't wait for the others to come to her aid. Mere seconds had passed since she alerted her group, and already one of these people was closing in on her.

Prepared to evade them and defend herself if necessary, she silently moved around one of the aisle shelves and into the next. She looked over her shoulder at the beam of light that was now passing over the headphones she had just been looking at, then when she heard the sound of running footsteps from outside the store she decided to make a run for it. Seeking safety in numbers she rose to her full height and bolted down the aisle, her eyes focused on the shopping cart she had left outside. But she made it no more than five hasty steps before a dark figure loomed up at from one of the cross aisles, and by then it was too late.

"What the-"

She had just enough wits to hear the dark figure speak, to reassure herself that it wasn't a Walker, but as the two crashed into each other Carrie wished it was a Walker. The hard collision knocked the breath right out of her chest, loud smashes ringing through her ears as she fell against the shelves while her hands clambered for anything she could grab onto. She could hear herself screaming breathlessly, and even when her knife was knocked out of her hand she struggled and fought against the heavy mass that pushed her down to the floor. There was screaming and yelling all around now, the deep voice above her telling her to stop before rough hands seized her by the arms and pinned her down.

Carrie froze, petrified with fear. Though her body was silent and motionless she could feel herself screaming, fighting the man on top of her even as he groped, his hand reaching between her legs as he told her to shut up, to make sure this was good for him. Her gun fell out of her hands as he started to kiss her, his hands pinning her down even as they groped her breasts, squeezing hard enough to make her cry. Bile rose in her throat, threatening to choke her should she try to draw breath, but she couldn't even if she wanted to. She knew what to do, that she just had to close her eyes and wait for it to be over, and when she felt him pushing inside of her she did exactly that. She held her breath and lay motionless, knowing that if she wanted any chance of making back alive she needed to play along. But as this thought occurred to her she felt herself rousing, as if a veil was being lifted.

She opened her eyes and slowly looked, coming around and realising there was no one on top of her. She lay motionless on the ground, not breathing and not screaming, perfectly alright. Hearing the sound of Tara's voice she struggled into an upright position and drew a shuddering breath, and it was then that she realised what had happened. On the ground further down the aisle lay a man curled up with his knees against his chest, his face bright red as he let out a shuddering breath not unlike her own. A woman clad in body armour stood by him with her gun raised, angrily shouting.

When the events started falling into place Carrie looked down at herself, giving a small cry of relief when she saw that her jeans had not been removed, that they were firmly secured around her hips with the belt in place. She hadn't been raped, but the spots of pain on her back and shoulders and the struggle to draw a full breath indicated that something had happened…just not what she first thought. As Tara helped her up to her feet, clicking her Ruger into its holster for her, Carrie looked around the music store once again, relieved to find the rest of her group there too. Sonja, Vetor and Carter each stood in various places around the store, penning the two strangers in while Lana stood on Carrie's other side, her gun raised at the man on the ground.

"You make one more move, _mate_ , I'll kick those balls so high they won't ever reascend," she threatened.

The man gave a pathetic moan, and then a moment later he slowly began to relax, lowering his knees from his chest. "No, thank you," he said hoarsely, taking a few short breaths.

"Good. We have an understanding then."

"Lower your weapons," the other woman said firmly. "This does not need to turn this into a gun fight."

"Shoot him!" Carrie suddenly commanded, the words leaving her mouth before she even thought about them.

"No!" the other woman said, taking a step forward to be in front of him.

"Shoot him!" she said again, her volume escalating with fear. "He…he trie-"

"I what?" he moaned, struggling up onto his knees. He made a motion as if he was going to get to his feet, but when he winced in discomfort he seemed to think better of it. Still struggling to catch his breath, he reached out and ushered the woman in front of him to move aside, allowing him to look at Carrie properly. "I didn't do anything to you."

"You did!" she cried, stepping forward even as Tara grabbed her by the elbow. "You…you did!"

"You ran into me!" he shouted back at her, clutching the nearby shelves as he gingerly pulled himself to his feet. Though he made it to his feet he stood hunched over, still winded and suffering from Lana's kick to the groin.

"You were goi-"

"You grabbed me," he insisted loudly. "You pulled me down!"

"No! You were on to…" she trailed off, unable to voice the words. "You pinned me down, you-"

"Of course I did! You were about to claw my eyes out!" he shouted angrily, gesturing to the blood on his face. "I protected myself. I like my eyes very much, thank you."

There was a long silence now, Carrie's breath coming in short pants as she looked around at her group, willing one of them to support her. She could feel the blood rushing through her head, a high pitched noise ringing in her ears and making it difficult to think straight. All her body told her to do was take her gun out and shoot his man, to take out the threat that just attacked her, but she was torn. She could see his frustration, his fear…her mind told her that she had made a mistake, even as her brain told her to kill.

"Lower your weapons," the other woman repeated. "Nothing happened here except a misunderstanding. Lower your weapons."

"You first," Lana insisted.

"You already have the advantage," the woman insisted. "You first."

The man seemed to give a long sigh of exasperation, and though he still held onto the shelves to support himself he reached out and put his hand on top of the woman's. There was a long moment before she did as he asked, and when she finally lowered her weapon Carrie breathed a sigh of relief. Nevertheless she didn't relax, her brain still telling her to kill this man, to take action and kill them both.

"Let's go," Tara said authoritatively, gently tugging Carrie's elbow and pulling her back. "Now."

The others obeyed without question, Carter, Vetor and Sonja backing out of the store while still keeping their guns raised and ready. Lana on the other hand didn't move, and she critiqued the two people with great care.

"What were you doing in there?" she asked, gesturing to the store room from which they must have come out of before.

"None of your business," the woman snapped.

"Di," the man said softly, telling her to stand down with only a word. "We were taking advantage of solitude and a locked door," he said, not needing to explain any further.

His answer drew Carrie's attention to the woman's somewhat disheveled appearance. Though she wore various items of body armour, the straps appeared loose and her shirt untucked from her jeans. She quickly glanced at the man now, noting that although his disheveled appearance could be attributed to the scuffle, his belt was open.

"Midday quickie, huh?" Lana questioned. "I suppose that means you have contraception with you? Condoms?" When they didn't reply she boldly took a step towards them, and she turned her gun to the man. "They're ours now."

There was a long pause, the man and woman exchanging a loaded glance, sharing a conversation in complete silence. With obvious disdain he reached into his pocket and pulled out two squares of foil and then reached out with them. When Lana didn't come forward to take them he tossed them to the floor at her feet.

"Enjoy your loot," the woman said sarcastically.

Still holding her gun on them, Lana crouched down and retrieved the condoms before tucking them into her pocket. "Pleasure doing business with you arseholes."

"Hey, wait up there a sec," the man said as they all began to back away. "You need contraception, do you?"

To Carrie's annoyance Lana stopped, peering at him in curiosity. "What's it to you?"

He took a deep breath and then glanced at the woman, once again sharing an entire conversation in silence. "I'm Richard…this is Dianne. If you need contraception we can help you out. Can you offer anything for trade?"

"Like what?"

"What have you got?"

"What do you want?"

When he didn't reply, Lana sighed and then stood her ground.

"Fine," he conceded. "We're looking for assorted ammunition, scrap metal and gun powder."

Lana scoffed at this. "We're not helping you gain firepower."

"You may decide you have to," Richard countered. "If you're in need of contraception, then you're possibly soon in need of diapers, maybe even baby formula, am I right? My community has that to spare."

With his comments hitting a little too close to home, Carrie started forward angrily. "We don't need a trade, thank you. Let's go."

"Wait," Dianne urged them, holstering her weapon completely and then raising her hands, showing her passivity. "Let's talk a little."

"So more of you can take us by surprise? No way. We're going, now," Carrie stated. While the others started backing out Lana did not, her defiance grating on Carrie's nerves. "Lana! Let's go."

Ignoring her, Lana stayed where she was. "Now's not a good time to talk, as you can see," she said, gesturing to Carrie over her shoulders. "Maybe some other time? We can arrange a place on neutral ground…I'll bring a picnic, and you'll bring me contraception as a show of good faith."

"Agreed."

"No!" exclaimed Carrie.

"What antibiotics does Carl need?" Lana asked next, looking over her shoulder. "The ones we ran out of, what were they?"

Carrie was speechless with anger, and Tara answered for her. "Cephalexin…it don't make him sick."

"Bring me a two week supply of Cephalexin too," Lana said, turning back to Dianne and Richard.

"No," Dianne shook her head. "A show of good faith, yes. But its the contraception, or the antibiotics. Pick one."

"Antibiotics."

"It's a deal," Richard agreed, looking between Lana and Carrie. "You don't want to show your cards by telling me what you have, I understand that. If you're not willing to trade supplies keep in mind that you can trade labour. Your people can come and stay with us, do some work to pay for the trade. Think about it."

"An agreed time period?" Lana clarified. "No working in arrears, no getting into personal debt the longer they stay to pay the debt?"

Richard shook his head. "No. We're not like that." He paused, taking a breath before carefully choosing his words. "Our community is known as Th-"

"That's enough!" Carrie snapped, bringing her gun by her side and marching forward. "This is not happening, let's go."

"I'm trying to get your kid antibiotics," Lana hissed at her. "Or do you not care about that opportunity?"

Her tolerance already exceeded, Carrie did something that she knew she shouldn't, something she knew she couldn't take back. There was a sharp intake of breath from all as she raised her gun and pointed it at Lana, and though her finger was on the trigger guard and the safety was on, it was still wrong of her. She knew what she was doing, that even the motion of pointing your gun at someone meant you were willing to take responsibility for their life. Despite the threat, Lana stared Carrie down, her mouth twisting into a hateful snarl. Not backing down, she turned back to Dianne and Richard.

"Washington Monument. One week at midday. I'll bring the picnic."

Carrie wanted to scream, to lift the roof with her righteous rage. If there was ever a time to shoot Lana, it was now. But before the thought could even properly cross her mind Lana turned her back on the strangers and walked away, leaving Carrie standing there with her gun raised at nothing. As she slowly lowered it, reality came to bite her in the ass as she realised what she had just done. She turned to the others in her group, seeing the way they looked at her with uncertainty, perhaps even a little fear. Unable to stomach their justified disgust she glanced at the strangers, to the man whose blood was underneath her fingernails.

She didn't need to say anything more to indicate that her group would not be making the meet, and she didn't care if she had to forcibly restrain Lana, she was not meeting another community who they knew nothing about. Keeping her gun drawn she backed out of the store and left them behind, grateful to Tara who lingered back and fell into step beside her. They started running as soon as they left, and in the back of her mind Carrie felt a flicker of disappointment as they left the electric guitars behind, the CDs in her satchel smashed. Nevertheless she chose her priority, and that was getting her people the hell out of here and back on the three hour journey home.

It was a sweet relief to emerge back into the fresh air outside the shopping mall, Carrie sucking in a deep breath that she desperately needed. She felt a brief bout of nausea before it passed, and then turned her attention to the van they had brought with them, glad to see that the supplies she and Lana collected had been stowed while she browsed in the music store. Lana and Vetor stood by the back of the run van, and just like always they were arguing about something, both of them furious with the other...that was until Lana turned her attention to Carrie and looked at her in disdain. The look on her face incited Carrie immediately, and she knew they had to have this out right here and now.

"You stupid bitch!" she started, advancing on Lana and holstering her gun.

"Me?" Lana questioned angrily. "I'm the bitch here?"

"I knew being a model meant you weren't high on intelligence, but I had no idea you were this stupid. How could you tell him what we need?"

Astonished, she looked at Vetor for support and then closed her eyes for a moment, realising she was alone in her argument. "What does it matter?" she shrugged. "He can't use it against us, he doesn't know where we are!"

Carrie looked at her incredulously. "Thanks to you, he knows we're within driving distance of the Washington Monument!"

Lana rolled her eyes, unconcerned. "There are plenty of places within driving distance of Washington. I'm getting your kid antibiotics. What did you get him today? A lava lamp?"

"Don't you dare say I don't provide for him!" she shouted, Tara jumping forward to grasp her by the elbow. "I-"

"Carrie, stop!" Tara pleaded.

"Whose roof is over your head tonight?" she screamed at Lana, losing control of herself. "Whose food are you eating? Whose clothes are on your back? Mine! My community gave you that, my people provided for you!"

"It's my community too," Lana countered, doing a much better job of keeping her temper. "And don't pretend like you weren't in the same position as me. I know your story, I know Rick's group saved your life, just like they saved mine."

"You want to stay much longer?" she threatened. "All I have to do is tell Rick to kick you out, and he will. He'll drive you out with a pack of supplies, pretend he's dropping you on the side of the road, but in reality he'll just put a bullet in your head."

"Carrie, stop!" Tara shouted, getting in her face, seizing her by the shoulders and shaking her. "Stop this, now!"

Lana was laughing at her now, shaking her head in disbelief. "Jesus Christ, what happened to you has fucked with your head. I don't even know what I did wrong, but you act like I pissed in your goon bag."

"I ca-"

"Your community needs me as much as I need it," Lana continued, her tone annoyingly reasonable. "I defended you today! I kicked that guy in the nuts so hard he cried, and turns out you pulled him down on top of you! It was all you."

"He-"

"You raised your gun at me," she continued, cutting her off. "You raised your gun to someone who had your back, but I'm the bitch?"

"You were endangering us."

"I was talking to them."

"You were telling them where we were!"

Tara whirled around and looked at Lana. "Don't say anything else," she said firmly, looking her in the eye. "This is over, now."

"But, Tara-"

"Enough," Tara snapped, looking back to Carrie now. "We're not having this out here, you got it? Carrie?"

Rendered speechless by Tara's aggression, no matter how necessary it was, Carrie slowly nodded. Immediately she felt a wave of relief flooding through her, the end of the argument helping the pressure inside her head to ease. Trying to hold herself together despite the emotions flooding through her, Carrie looked at Lana, resenting how calm she seemed, how in control she was.

"Everyone get in the van, now," Tara said, resuming her role as leader. "In the back. Carrie and I will take the front."

As the others complied with her request, Lana held Carrie's gaze a moment longer, looking satisfied with the result. "Grade A Bitch," she said slowly, enunciating each word. With that said she turned on her heel and followed Vetor to the pick up truck, while Carter and Sonja got into the back of the van.

Vetor got into his vehicle last, giving Carrie a sympathetic glance as he closed the door, and then she felt her resolve crumble. She started trembling now, the pressure in her head moving to her chest and making it hard for her to breathe. Refusing Tara's offer of comfort Carrie took a few steps away as she broke down, dissolving into tears. It was clear to her what was happening, that the misunderstanding with Richard had brought the trauma of everything else back to her. Although Pete hadn't sexually assaulted her, his attack had been the catalyst for every unexplored issue to break free, and ten weeks later she couldn't pretend she was never raped by Granger's group.

It was getting harder to deal with this, she couldn't cope now that it was all coming to the surface, the trauma desperate to be dealt with rather than forgotten about like she used to do. Today Lana was the unlucky recipient of her anger, Carrie struggling to contain her emotional outbursts and overreactions. Normally it was Rick who was on the receiving end of this, it was Rick who knew how to tolerate it, who knew how to comfort her with a few words of understanding. But Lana had fought back, refusing to be bullied by someone who was really just trying to protect herself. Everything had escalated beyond Carrie's control, and she didn't know how to stop it, she had no one to talk her down.

"C-can we go home, please?" she asked Tara.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea," Tara agreed.

Taking a deep breath Carrie stood up straight, feeling her lungs filling with air now that she wasn't hunched over. She looked at Tara gratefully, taking her extended hand and squeezing it tightly. Needing it now, she let Tara embrace her for a few moments, and as she held her Carrie looked back towards the shopping centre's entrance. Richard and Dianne stood in the open doors, but their backs were turned, a clear display of submission. They weren't going to watch them leave, they weren't concerning themselves with the direction the unknown group departed in.

The van was silent when Carrie climbed into the front seat, but she knew better than to presume they weren't talking about her, whispering about her outbursts and behaviour. Her tension dissipated as soon as Tara started the engine and the music started playing, for after all this time they still listened to Aidan's awful run mix. Despite everything the familiarity of the awful music brought comfort to her, for this was something she knew to expect, this wasn't something that was going to take her by surprise. Settling in and buckling her seat belt, she looked at her watch and counted forward until their arrival back home.

She had three hours in which to get her shit together before facing Rick.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Hi all - thanks for the awesome reviews, I'm glad that you enjoyed the first two chapters. I recently sat down and formally mapped out my plans for this story, I think it's gonna be a great ride with some awesome twists on the existing material. Thanks again for the reviews, and don't forget to head to The Walking Dead . Com to read the character profiles and pictures for this story.

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Thursday 28th August

The sun was wonderfully hot that morning, beating down on the back of Rick's neck and reminding him of days gone by in Georgia. Making his way around the community seated atop Buttons, his ears filled with the wonderful sound of Judith laughing and Carl scolding her. Slowing Buttons to a stop Rick turned and looked around at his children, amused by what he saw. Judith rode in the baby seat on the back of Carl's bike, her weight there being the latest challenge in his physical therapy, but it seemed she was challenging his patience too. Cheeky and mischievous, Judith reached forward and tugged on the waistband of Carl's shorts, flicking it against his skin before reaching for the top of his underwear.

"Judy, stop it!" he told her in frustration, blindly waving his hand behind himself, trying to make her stop. She was undeterred, and the moment he took his hand away she started up again, grabbing the top of his underwear and tugging. "Judy…Dad! Make her stop!"

Content to leave him with his struggles, Rick turned his attention back to Buttons and dug his heels in, prompting her to get started again. As they resumed their former trot he looked over his shoulder at the foal, Bubbles. He was following them impatiently, for although he hadn't nursed in the last half hour it seemed the moment Rick saddled up his mother he was desperately hungry.

"Dad, she's giving me a wedgie!"

"I can't hear you," he called back, preferring to let him deal with his sister on her own. At a year and a half her independence was flourishing, as was her tendency to push the boundaries. Right now it was up to Carl to show her his authority, to set the limit of what was fun was what was not okay…he needed to do that himself. If he would just stop reacting to her behaviour she would get bored. He didn't blame her for keeping at it, not when Carl's reaction was so entertaining.

Seeing that the younger kids had been let out of school early he slowed Buttons to a stop and let them come closer, kindly reminding them to give her some space. They stood a few yards away and admired the horse and foal, calling out their names and desperately trying to coax them over, but to no avail. As he rubbed Buttons' neck Rick looked at Sam from the corner of his eye, glad that he had come over too. With the exception of Carol, Sam had no interactions with Rick or his family, but it was nice to know that he seemed to be getting on with his life after the death of his father. He had been back at school for a while now, and seemed to be flourishing thanks to a newfound stability at home.

Having caught up to him, Carl rode past with Judith on the back, continuing to ride around Alexandria on their own. A month and a half ago Rick would have worried about Carl riding a bike without someone there to keep him steady, particularly with his sister on the back, but these days he knew Carl was capable of more than either of them expected. The loss of his eye had indeed held him back for some time, but he was making progress in leaps and bounds. A few minutes later Rick dug his heels in and ushered Button's back into a slow walk, the children waving goodbye as Bubbles hastened to keep up with his mother. Glad to be back on the move, Rick went down towards the solar panels where Carl and Judith were, trying to hide his amusement she he saw the ongoing battle they waged over his underwear.

"Dad, seriously," Carl said in frustration, stopping the bike and then straddling it as he stood to his feet. Keeping it upright for his sister, he pursed his lips as he readjusted his shorts and underwear, glaring at her over his shoulder.

Seated atop Buttons, Rick's chest felt a little tighter as he looked at his son's face, observing the white bandage he could see peeking out from underneath his hair. More than ten weeks had passed since his son's injury, ten weeks in which Rick thought he would get used to the idea, that he would become accustomed to seeing his changed face. Despite the time that had passed and Carl's better than expected recovery, for Rick it wasn't getting easier. The bandage drew his eye every time he looked at his son, and he often found himself focusing on that rather than his remaining eye, a faux pas he tried not to make often. The bandage still didn't seem like a normal part of him, and when it was removed every second day to inspect the wound and change the dressing, Rick still expected to see his right eye as normal.

Giving in, Rick explained the solution to him. "Move her seat back so she can't reach you. And stop reacting to her. You're just making it fun."

"But I told her to stop," he moaned, thanking Barbara who came over to help him adjust Judith's seat.

Rick knew what was holding him back, that he was worried about Judith no longer liking him if he tried to exert some gentle discipline. Carrie had been through the same worries too, but had picked up the techniques rather quickly. "She won't hate you," he assured him. "She needs to know her boundaries, and who is in charge."

Leaving it at that, Rick rubbed his hand over Buttons' withers and then dug his heels in again, prompting her to resume their journey. Their opportunities to ride Button's had been limited first by the attention Carl's injury required, and then by the birth of Bubbles. It was only more recently that they had been riding her, having given her adequate time to recover and bond with her foal. She was well accustomed to most of the people now, and was happy to let many of them ride her, though none were yet prepared to risk taking her outside the walls. Not even Michonne was confident to take her out, for if the worst did happen they still had a young foal who needed his mother.

As Carl and Judith fell behind Rick took Buttons off the main roads of Alexandria and towards the walls instead, making his rounds of the watch posts on horseback. Button's followed, the simultaneous rhythm of their hooves providing a backdrop to the peaceful silence of Alexandria. They checked in on each of those on watch, and when they reached the south tower they were met by Carl and Judith. She seemed a little more glum now, her fun having reached its end now that Carl had moved her seat back, while he seemed much happier. They rode in wide circles, Carl going about all of the balance exercises that had become second nature after so long. From afar Rick watched him ride in circles before slowing down to go back the other way, concluding that with some figure eights. Judith started sounding a little happier now, and she hung onto the sides of her seat and shrieked in delight.

Glad that they were enjoying themselves again, Rick kept Buttons still so that Bubbles could come back and start nursing again, and while he settled he checked his watch and looked at the gate. It was late morning and Carrie had been gone since sunrise, departing before even Judith was awake. She left with a brief parting kiss, his request that she always wake him before an early supply run, and then Rick was left to go about his day without her. It still felt strange that she wasn't around right now, that after two months of them being at home with the kids more often than not she had resumed her job on the run crew.

Denise had removed the cast on her right wrist a little over a month ago, and she had immediately resumed her former role. Frankly it had been against Rick's wishes, he having hoped that they could continue as they were, that she could stay at home with him and their family. Nevertheless she was only gone once or twice a week, and he knew this was important to her. What had happened last June had affected them all, but Carrie in particular. Pete's attack and Carl's injury had jolted her confidence, leaving her unsure of herself and questioning everything she had done. She needed to get out of the Alexandrian fishbowl, to feel like she was contributing and that she was still capable…if that's what she needed, then Rick would support her.

But his support didn't mean he wasn't going to worry.

There was the understanding that the run crew didn't stick to a dedicated schedule, but that wasn't going to stop any of them from watching the clock, Rick in particular. So while Carl rode his bike and Bubbles nursed he lingered by the gate, awaiting Carrie's return. He looked back at his children, grateful that after everything that had happened, all of the mistakes he had made with Pete, his children were still alive, he still had them with him.

As he waited he continued looking around the community, taking in two of the five new faces that had joined them over a month ago. Twin brother and sister Mitchell and Mina stood side by side in the watch tower, they too awaiting the return of the other group members who were on the supply run. The group of five had been an unexpected arrival, for although Aaron and Daryl had left with the intention of finding more people, Rick hadn't been holding his breath. The world outside the walls seemed barren and lifeless but for the dead that roamed, the possibility of other survivors out there feeling remote. But as he often did Daryl proved him wrong, and after only four days he returned with Robert, the man affectionately known as Little Red Riding Hood. A week after that they returned with five more, Lana's group.

While on the surface Lana's group were eagerly welcomed and settled in smoothly, Rick knew otherwise. Following his agreement to let them stay in Alexandria he had gone straight to Abraham and slipped two of the listening devices into his hand, unseen by anyone else. With the quiet instruction to have them installed before the group moved in to their allocated townhouse, Abraham set about organising surveillance of the newcomers, taking point on the task so that Rick didn't have to. Trusting it was all taken care of Rick had returned home to be with his family, feeling somewhat put out by the disturbance the group's arrival had on his day.

It hadn't taken long for Abraham to come to him with some poignant insights from the surveillance. Lana and her group had not arrived with any intention of staying, not long term at least. Instead their daringly bold plan was to rob them blind and then do a runner, to take advantage of their kindness and forgo the opportunity to live in safety. They planned to slowly siphon food and supplies from the pantry, to cover their tracks by altering the computerised inventory on the computer in Olivia's office. That in itself had been easy enough to prevent, Abraham simply warning Olivia to keep doors locked while ensuring the spreadsheets were password protected.

It had been at Daryl's request that the newcomers be given another chance, that they be allowed the opportunity to prove themselves. At Rick's instruction the surveillance of the group continued, and that was when they learned the full extent of the plan, not to mention the group dynamic at play. Although she was their leader, it had become quickly apparent that Lana didn't call the shots in her own group, and that she was not the one driving the plan to rob Alexandria and flee. That plan was courtesy of Vetor, and it was only their arguments over this plan that gave Rick any faith that they might be worth a second chance.

"She's going to try and sleep with you," Abraham told him bluntly. "Tonight at the party, she's going to get her tits out and let you grab 'em…you lucky bastard."

"Sleep with me, why?" he had questioned, not really paying attention. He wanted to get home to Carl who wasn't feeling well again, he and Carrie curled up together in bed watching television.

"Well, she's going to fuck you ten ways to Sunday, than as you pass out from dehydration you're going to give her the access code to the armouries."

Rick blinked at him, giving his full attention now. "So she's going to sleep with me, just to get the armoury codes?" he sighed, struggling to keep up with all they had learned in their six days of spying.

"She doesn't want to. But, she's going to," Abraham said.

"Ain't all her," Daryl piped up, having been mostly silent. "It's all him… _Vetor_ ," he said in disdain. "He's the one puttin' her up to it, telling her to fool around with you. Keeps telling her it's the only way."

"It doesn't help that no one else is willing to give her the armoury codes," Abraham added. "She knows the order had to come from you."

Indeed the order had come from him, for although the Alexandrian's were used to not sharing details like the armoury codes with newcomers, Rick had extended this restriction indefinitely. It had been an inconvenience for sure, requiring someone to let Lana's group in and our of the armoury as needed and to supervise them while they were in there, but it was a small price to pay for peace of mind. None of the Alexandrian's had curiously questioned Rick's order, for which he was glad. Despite his reservations about them, he didn't want to influence other people's opinions of the newcomers.

With the advance warning Rick was prepared for what Lana had tried the night of the party, and just as Abraham had said it appeared she was willing to pull out all the stops. With her low cut dress and beach blonde hair she sure resembled the swimsuit model she used to be, and it took all Rick's self-control to not take more than one glance at her cleavage. Her flirtation was just subtle enough to pass for friendliness, the type of friendliness that might have worked on him any other time, but it wasn't to be. He wasn't the slightest bit interested in her advance, not even flattered given he knew her ulterior motive, but her biggest error was her timing. It was a bold move to flirt with someone whose significant other was at the same party, a move that hadn't paid off for Lana.

Secretly, Rick liked the reaction Carrie had to Lana's flirtation. Never before had she shown possessiveness over him, had she been bothered by other women talking to him, but it didn't take much for Lana to rub her up the wrong way. The moment Lana touched his arm and laughed at something only mildly funny, Rick had seen Carrie coming, had hid the smile that wanted to make its way across his face. In an instant she was stepping between them, her hand reaching around his waist and into his back pocket as she gave Lana a pointed glare. Perhaps in hindsight he had liked it too much…perhaps if he had privately admonished Carrie for her reaction her dislike of Lana wouldn't have grown to the extent it had.

In the days that followed things seemed to settle down, normal life resuming faster than Rick had expected. At his request Abraham had continued the surveillance of Lana's group, Rick opting to trust his judgement of the best course of action. It didn't take long for her to figure out that Rick had gotten wind of their plan to steal from them, the ongoing denial of access to the armoury being a key indicator. Heated debates between Lana and Vetor soon developed into full blown arguments, and two weeks after their welcome party they seemed to reach breaking point. They'd made no progress in gaining access to the armoury, Lana having all but given up on seducing Rick, and finally she delivered an ultimatum that was a long time coming. She told Vetor that they were staying…that _she_ was staying. The rest was up to him. Listening as their arguments unfolded on the surveillance tapes, Rick couldn't help but feel sorry for the position Lana was in.

Still sitting atop Buttons, Rick turned his attention to Carl now, who had been joined by Rosita and Michonne. They stood on the curb watching him, challenging him to the other physical therapy exercises he could do on the bicycle. The last ten weeks had taught Rick more about his son than he thought possible, having come to see first hand just how resilient and strong he could be. To say that he was proud of his son was a gross understatement, for his strength of character spoke volumes of the man he was to become in the future. But despite these good elements it hadn't easy on them, not for even one damn day. The wound was healing incrementally, but nerve pain and infection were a constant detriment to both Carl's health and spirits. Rick couldn't blame him for the days when he struggled to get out of bed, when he'd rather hide away in his room watching television with only select people for company.

He had made a point of not pushing Carl too hard, of allowing him to set the pace at which he returned to life outside of their home. But despite gentle encouragement it had taken over a month for Carl to go much further than the gardens directly outside their house. He was too nervous to face other people, not yet ready to deal with their well meant sympathy and pity. For a while it had worked for them, Rick pleased with every incremental step Carl took towards taking his life back. He had gone to the welcome party for Lana's new group, and made frequent visits to hang out with Tobin in his wood shop where they were working on some custom furniture, but anything more than that had taken time. Watching him now as he rode his bike all around the community, Rick knew that a month ago it wouldn't have happened.

It had pained him to do it, to finally force Carl into taking a step before he came to the decision on his own, but Rick knew he had done the right thing in making him return to school. Even with the world at an end he still saw value in his son's education, and not just so that he had a basic understanding of various subjects. Simple things like physics and chemistry could be applied to the new world they lived in, as could general math and literacy…but it was more than that too. It was important to for Carl to learn, to understand the world's history and accomplishments, to consider the resilience of the human race. So the day Carl asked him why the Cold War was only fought in winter, Rick knew he had to send him back to school.

Until then Rick had done his best to keep Carl's mind active in spite of his injury, to have him completing some homework and exercises assigned by Alexandria's rotating school teachers. But unsurprisingly he had shown little interest unless it was Michonne encouraging him, though he was surprisingly receptive to Daryl and Carrie when they told him to do some homework. Nevertheless a significant change had come over Carl in the days that followed his return to school. It had come with some expected resistance, Carl outright refusing to go when the subject first came up, but in the end things had settled.

Allowances had been made, they had to be. The mere presence of Ron Anderson had made the transition a little bumpy at first, not that the teenager had outright done anything to Carl. So far the two boys had taken seats on opposite sides with Mikey and Enid between them as a buffer, and the teachers gave them work to do in pairs rather than as a whole group, but tension was there. When Carl's recovery progressed to a stage when he was able to spend time with them, Mikey and Enid had been a routine presence in Rick's home, the two teens making an effort to keep the friendship going despite the unsaid understanding that they were also friends with Ron. If Rick wasn't mistaken, their divided allegiance between their friends had started to cause some unrest in what had until then been a mutually beneficial arrangement. He'd heard discussions of an argument between Ron and Enid, one that involved Carl although thankfully he wasn't there.

In spite of these difficulties, Rick was confident in his decision to send Carl back to school. Forcing him to socialise with other people outside of their family had seen a profound change come over Carl, one that made Rick wonder if allowing him to stay home and recover had really been the right thing. In the last couple of weeks he was starting to come out of his shell again, spending more time out with his friends than at home. It was a change, but it was nice to be at home and not know exactly where Carl was at any given moment, to know only that he was safe within the walls and hanging out with his friends as a teenager should be.

Checking the time, Rick gave a heavy sigh as he rubbed the back of Button's neck and dug his heels in to make her walk. He couldn't sit there all day waiting for the gate to open. Carrie would be home when she got home, there was nothing he could do to change that. Besides, like always there were things to do, tasks he had taken back on as Carl's recovery progressed. Today he had work to do in the gardens, and although all residents pitched in and helped with the gardens, they were conscious of leaving some work to him. He still harboured his newfound enjoyment of gardening, the satisfaction and small surge of endorphins to be felt every time he unearthed a fat potato or tasted one of the sweet, juicy peas. As it had been for some time, the gardens were still Rick's sanctuary.

"Wait, Dad!" Carl called out, changing course and riding over to him as he started to leave. "Are you done with Buttons?"

"For now."

"But you said I could take her for a ride."

Rick hesitated, checking his watch a second time. "It's nearly time for school."

Carl wouldn't have it. "You said I could ride her. Come on," he insisted. "I'll be busy after school."

Having indeed agreed to this request, Rick nodded his head. "Fine, but get your helmet and face guard."

Carl's protest was swift. "No. I hate that thing."

"Put it on, or you're not riding."

Carl gave a heavy sigh but then nodded in agreement, knowing that Rick was right to insist. Returning to Michonne and Rosita he let them help get Judith out of her seat, and then hastily rode the bike straight back to the shipping container where it belonged. Five minutes later he was jogging back to Michonne with a riding helmet in one hand and his facial guard in the other. One of the few people he had ever allowed to change his bandage, he let Michonne help him fix the facial guard over the bandage and get it comfortably in place. They laughed at something, Michonne grinning in amusement before smacking him across the arm. When he turned away and came over to Buttons Rick looked at his face, reminding of why Carl hated wearing that guard so much.

In the wake of his injury the moratorium they had placed on supply runs had been lifted, regardless of the Wolves being nearby. Despite plans to soon step back from supply runs before Maggie gave birth, Glenn had immediately started organising new runs, venturing away for days at a time to find extra medical supplies, knowing that Carl was going to need them in the long term. He and the run crew had found many things of value, extra monitors and spare parts, a machine for equipment sterilisation and antibacterial laundry detergent, but it was the physical therapy office that proved the most pertinent to Carl. A variety of plastic facial guards had been scavenged, the type worn by sports players who had suffered facial injuries in the past. A cigarette lighter and some experimentation meant that one of the masks was perfectly moulded to fit over the right hand side of Carl's brow, protecting the wound and eye socket from accidental harm.

But while it was useful for protecting him, for even an accidental bump caused excruciating pain, it was difficult to hide. The colour of the plastic didn't match his skin tone, and when he wore it the mask stuck out like a sore thumb, making it harder to Carl to pretend that everything was fine. These days he wore his lengthening hair across the right side of his face, his way of hiding the self-perceived flaw, but there was no way to hide the plastic mask. He may be physically recovering well, but his confidence and self-worth was not.

"Come on," Carl prompted him impatiently. Self conscious even in front of Rick, he was playing with his hair and pulling it across his face to hide the shield. "It's my turn."

Thanking Buttons with a rub of the neck he gently dismounted her, relishing the way his body felt after riding a horse again. It was more enjoyable to ride Buttons than he had let on, the time he spent on her back reminding him of happier days. Double checking Carl's helmet he stood back and resisted the urge to help him up, knowing that it not only annoyed him, but that it wasn't required. Carl ran his hands over Buttons' body and then stroked her mane, letting her become accustomed to the new rider before he mounted her. Well learned he mounted her gracefully and settled in, taking the reigns and then prompting her into a slow walk. None of them were yet able to go much faster than a slow trot, knowing that she got a little anxious should Bubbles ever be left too far behind her.

As they took off around Michonne came over to him, holding Judith on her hip. "I can stay with him if you'd like," she offered, letting him remove Judith's bike helmet before passing her over.

"Yes, please," he agreed, taking Judith and then setting her onto the road so she could walk. "Make sure he's not too late for school."

"Never," she assured him, both of them knowing it was an empty assurance.

Ushering Judith to follow, the two of them set off towards the gardens, raising their hands to Bob and Natalie who sat out on their porch watching Carl. Making sure to walk slowly while Judith rushed to keep up with him, they made their way around the houses and into the lush gardens on the western side of Alexandria. The gardens were lush and abundant with fresh food, the entire community having eaten quite well this summer. Now they were preparing to plan ahead, ensuring that had a good food supply should the gardens not fare well through the winter. There were still plenty of food supplies left from their supply run to Georgia all those months ago, and the greenhouse was now home to a large number of healthy looking plants.

Making their way through the gardens Rick stopped occasionally to pull up a weed or to check the leaves of various plants, and satisfied that all was well in there they headed to the greenhouse. Knowing she wasn't allowed to run amok in here Judith was cooperative when he picked her up, looking and listening attentively as he talked to her while they made their way around inside. Like always though he couldn't keep her attention long, and soon enough she was looking around disinterested, annoyed that she wasn't allowed to get down. Taking note of the few odd tasks he wanted to complete in there that afternoon, Rick wondered if he could leave Judith at Deanna's house for a little while, or if Michonne wouldn't mind baby sitting. If Carrie wasn't home and Carl was in school, he needed someone to watch her for a little while.

Thinking on this, Rick made his way through the greenhouse and then left, gladly putting Judith down onto the grass. Going about another chore now he collected their large compost bucket and started making the rounds, stopping by his own empty house first before continuing on to Maggie and Glenn's next door. They crossed the front porch and opened the door without knocking, knowing it wasn't necessary. The house was quiet and peaceful, and he found Maggie curled up on the couch. Her pale face exhibited all the signs of sleepless nights, but Rick had never seen her looking happier. Reminding Judith to be quiet, he set the compost bucket down on the porch and came in, Maggie smiling at him as he entered into the living room. Laying on her chest was Herschel, his dark eyes half open as he listened to his mother's heart beat.

"Hershie," Judith cooed, coming to Maggie's side and looking at him. She repeated his name and then settled as Rick shushed her, then happily stood there and peered at him. While she seemed rather pleased by the new addition to their extended family, perhaps she was still wrapping her head around his existence.

"I'm just here for the compost," he said softly, he too admiring Herschel. "How you doing?"

"Good," Maggie replied, though her voice was husky with tiredness.

"We brought you some cabbage leaves."

She smiled and then thanked him. "Can you put them in the fridge please, and then get me two cold ones."

Doing as requested, Rick put the leaves into the crisper drawer and then gave Maggie two of the cold ones, helping her exchange them for the ones already in her bra. He got the feeling that over the coming months his cabbage crop was going to result in more than rotten smelling farts, but in relief for Alexandria's nursing mother. As Judith stood by and continued looking at Herschel in awe Rick collected the compost scraps and then tidied up the kitchen a little, ignoring Maggie's protests. He like everyone else knew the protocol for visiting new parents, and with Glenn on watch for a little while, he had intended to stop by anyway. There wasn't much to do though, and noting that the dishwasher had been emptied and the floors swept he suspected that Enid had visited that morning, the young woman having taken quite a liking to Alexandria's newborn. After she visited there was never much left to do.

Herschel had come to them five days ago, and despite a multitude of helpers in Alexandria most had been good about keeping their distance, giving Maggie and Glenn the space they desired. After his initial introduction to the community Herschel had been whisked back home to be with his parents, and so far only immediate family had been encouraged to visit. Many things had changed in Alexandria over the last few months, including a shift of living arrangements in order to prepare for a new phase in their lives. So while Abraham, Rosita, Sasha, Eugene and Tara had taken up residence in one of the new houses encompassed by the expansion, and Carol had moved in with Tobin, it was Michonne who hadn't gone too far away. To help them adjust to life with their newborn she had moved in next door with Glenn and Maggie. So far the arrangement was working well, the new parents having an extra helping hand (not that any were very far), while Michonne came and went as she pleased, still spending a significant amount of time next door with Carl.

As he stacked the dishwasher and double checked the refrigerator to ensure there was enough to eat, Rick thought back to the day Maggie had gone into labour, when he'd been here exactly a week ago to collect the compost. He'd been standing at the sink right next to her when she suddenly grabbed a hold of his arm, her eyes widening in momentary panic. Having been experiencing worsening back aches and pre-labour contractions for days they were all prepared for labour to start, and so he wasn't too panicked by the look of alarm on her face.

"Either my waters have broken, or I just peed myself," she said quietly, looking down at herself. "I'm not sure which."

Despite having never helped Lori through labour, Rick stayed calm and simply took a look, noting that there was indeed a damp patch at the top of her legs. "You think you can waddle to the bathroom?"

That was the extent of the initial fuss, and despite Denise quickly confirming that her waters were breaking, nothing more happened for a while. Maggie spent the day straddling a beach towel and sleeping upright on the porch furniture, the only place she could ever get comfortable rest, and the next morning stronger contractions began. With no choice but to go with what her body dictated, Maggie spent the day enduring contractions as she walked laps around Alexandria, trying in vain to speed things up. It wasn't until very early Saturday morning that Herschel was finally born, more than a day after her waters had first broken.

"You need anything else while I'm here, Maggie?" he enquired. Glenn would be home shortly, having really only taken watch to get out of the house for a while, but Rick was happy to stay and help. "Cup of tea? Something to eat?"

"Mmmm," she pondered for a few moments. "Actually, yeah. Could you take him for a moment?"

Washing and drying his hands, Rick came on over and then gently took Herschel from her, the newborn small enough to be held in just his hands. He wriggled unhappily for a few moments, stretching one arm high up in the air before slowly drawing it back to his chest. A few unhappy grumbles passed his lips before he quieted again, his eyes slowly blinking as he looked up and tried to focus on Rick's face.

"He's beautiful, Maggie."

Bringing Herschel to lay in the crook of his arm he straightened his teeshirt and put his little finger into his hand, smiling when he grasped it. His almond shaped eyes and thick dark hair made him a spitting image of Glenn, but his rosy pink cheeks reminded them all of Beth. For a moment he remembered the day that Glenn and Maggie told him they were starting a family, remembering the immense pride he felt for the two of them. That pride was nothing on what he felt for them now. They were brave enough to take what they wanted for their lives together, to start a family in spite of everything. Herschel and Beth would be proud of them.

There was a happy moment as the two of them stood there and looked at the baby, and then Maggie took a deep breath and gave a cheerful sigh. "Well, I'm going to take a shower."

Rick's brow furrowed, having not expected that. "Oh, sure."

"That's okay, isn't it?" she enquired, though the tone of her voice indicated that there was only one acceptable answer.

"Yes, of course," he said sincerely.

"I might take a little while," she warned him, though she was already backing away. "If I can reach my legs I might shave them, then I need to wash my hair…maybe exfoliate."

"Take as long as you need."

"And I might take a nap too, if he's sleeping."

"That would be smart."

"Thank you," she sighed, her weariness showing through. She lingered a moment longer, starting to look unsure of herself. "There's a bottle of breast milk in the refrigerator if he starts to fuss, you can just microwave it if you need to. But if you have time the bottle warmer is…somewhere around here…"

"We'll be fine," he insisted. "Take your shower, have your nap."

"Oh, and uhh I think that's his poop face. The changing table is in my room, just come in and use it. Otherwise, I-"

"Maggie, we're fine."

As Maggie promptly disappeared into the downstairs master bedroom Rick turned his attention to Herschel, taking note that his expression did indeed resemble what every parent knew to be a poop face. His eyes were closed and his cheeks screwed up, and a few moments later he began to relax. Checking his diaper Rick felt a flicker of annoyance to find that he was wearing a cloth diaper, not a disposable. It had been a streak of good luck that they had rarely been without an abundant supply of diapers for Judith, and very rarely did they have to ration them or use cloth. But Glenn and Maggie were being more organised, with many Alexandrian's having spent months fastidiously sewing them.

Tending to Herschel's diaper, and grateful that it wasn't significantly soiled, he wondered when they were going to start potty training Judith. It had been agreed long ago that it would be Carol's task to start that, an agreement reached one day at the prison in which Rick found himself the unfortunate victim of a diaper explosion. He couldn't remember how old Carl was when Lori trained him, nor how she had done it, how she had convinced him to even go near the toilet that for some reason had terrified him. While Judith hovered at his feet Herschel began to cry, unhappy with Rick's ill equipped attempt to fasten the various clasps and buttons on the home made diaper. Though the water was running in the en suite bathroom, Rick knew that Maggie would be listening to every cry her son made, and so he hastened to settle him. She and Glenn had barely come up for air in the last week, it was a small wonder he was keen to take watch while she simply wanted to shower.

Rummaging around the changing table storage, he gave a sigh of relief when he found a tiny disposable diaper, one whose two simple tabs he was more accustomed to. Remembering a day when he and Shane had jokingly duct taped Carl's diaper, and the look of exasperation on Lori's face, he redressed Herschel and then brought him back into his arms. When they came back to the living room Judith's insistence that she get to hold him were not to be negotiated with, and so he patiently set her beside him and helped her hold the tiny baby, keeping his hand beneath his head and neck.

As Judith crooned and babbled at him, her words a mixture of clear enunciation and mumbles, Rick checked the time on his watch, still anxious about the run crew. With Carrie on his mind he started also thinking about Carl, dwelling on some worrying behaviour he'd noticed over the last couple of weeks. While Carrie and Judith developed an easy bond that didn't surprise him, the one she and Carl developed did a little. They had shared a horrific experience, both trying in vain to protect the other, and both feeling as though they had failed. But Rick was quietly confident that it was more than that experience, that Carl and Carrie had been able to develop an actual friendship with one another. It didn't hold a candle to the relationship and bond he had with Michonne, nor to the brotherly relationship he had with Daryl, but they had definitely become more than just house mates to one another. It made Rick smile to think about the days following Carl's release from the Infirmary, the many hours Carl and Carrie lay curled up in the main bedroom watching television in bed, both unable to find the will to do anything else.

However, Rick couldn't help but notice that Carl had developed a somewhat strange sense of protectiveness for Carrie, the type that Rick tried not to have. Like she, Carl also seemed to dislike Lana without reason, and he often seemed a little more unhappy than necessary when she went on a supply run. The day they told him she was rejoining the run crew he had all but hit the roof, his temper kept in check only by Rick's stern glare. He told Carrie straight out that he didn't want her to join the run crew, that she was risking her life unnecessarily. In many respects Rick agreed with him, that he too didn't want her risking her life for some school supplies and canned ham, but he had to respect her wishes. Despite these wise words, Carl's initial unhappiness seemed to be turning into an overall attitude problem, one that Rick hoped to quickly nip in the bud.

Dwelling on all this, Rick wondered if Carl still felt guilty for what had happened to them, even though none of it was either of their fault. While ten weeks had passed quickly, it had still been a lot of time for he and Carl to talk, their conversation ranging from something as innocuous as Buttons and Bubbles to the heavier things like the attack. Carl had confessed once that even now he couldn't get the image of Pete on top of her out of his head, the sound of her crying and fighting ringing through his ears. He was still struggling with the impossible decision he had faced, to stay and risk his life for Carrie, or to run like she asked him to. He had nearly died trying to save her. But even after everything he had given, still Carl didn't feel like it was enough, that he hadn't done the right thing. Funny thing was, Carrie felt exactly the same about protecting him.

"The run crew got back twenty minutes ago."

Glenn's news announced his return home, his trudging footsteps an indication of his weariness. He kicked off his shoes as he came inside, but despite his exhaustion a happy smile crossed his face as he came into the living room and looked at his newborn son. Herschel was now happily laying on the rug, kept company by Judith who sat beside him and played with his toys.

"Maggie's resting," Rick said, explaining her absence. "You should get some rest too."

"No, it's alright," Glenn shook his head, though his insistence was betrayed by a poorly stifled yawn. "I…I'll just…" he trailed off, slowly changing his mind. "I'm not putting you out?"

"No, not at all," he lied. He really did want to finish the compost rounds, but he knew where his time was most needed.

Glenn's relief was remarkable, and he cleared his throat and dithered for a moment. Another yawn crossed his face as he began recounting the previous night they had with their newborn, sharing the small details like so many new parents liked to. They talked for a little while, Rick listening attentively as he learned of the newborn's tendency to nurse only in small bursts, which conflicted with the cries that seemed to indicate insatiable hunger and unhappiness. It was a contrast to the content little boy who lay on the rug now, his unfocused eyes slowly blinking as he turned his head, listening to the sound of Glenn's voice.

Finally Glenn took his leave, retreating into the master bedroom where Maggie was also resting. As he left Rick thanked him for the news of the run crew, though it wasn't necessary to ask for more information. In the case of the run crew, no significant news was good news. When they came home and hastily began to recount what happened, that was when there might be cause for concern. They had been home for twenty minutes by now, and Rick suspected that at any minute Carrie would come to find him, having returned home to an empty house. There would be her post-run rituals to complete, a hasty debrief with Deanna and Olivia over the supplies, then while others stepped in to unload the supplies, the run crew would return home. After a well deserved shower, their work for the day was done, and Carrie would spend her time at leisure.

A short while later he knew he was right, glad to hear Carrie's approaching footsteps. He recognised her footfall on the front porch before catching her reflection in the blank television screen, and just like he had she let herself in without knocking.

"Hey cutie."

Rick grinned, liking the occasional use of a pet name between the two of them. "Don't let my girlfriend hear you calling me that."

Carrie scoffed in derision, but she smiled. "I was talking to Herschel."

"Oh, I see." He turned his head to kiss her, but she was coming into the living room now.

She called Judith's name to get her attention, both of them catching the moment that delight crossed the little girl's face. "Hi, Mommy…hi," she smiled, clambering to her feet and reaching up. "Hi."

Heeding her request, Carrie happily picked her up and gave her a kiss. Like it often did, Rick's heart ached with happiness to see Carrie and his daughter together like this. _No_ , he corrected himself. _Their_ _daughter_. In that moment Carrie and Judith were nothing less than mother and daughter, despite the slow start they may have gotten in the earlier days of their relationship.

"I got you something," Carrie said, getting Judith's attention. "I got you some shoes," she told her, readjusting her on her hip and pointing to her foot. "I got you some sneakers, and slippers and _two_ pairs of snow boots."

Judith's eyes widened, and she mumbled something to her, something that Carrie appeared to understand. They talked a few moments longer before Judith squirmed and asked to be let down, happily rejoining Herschel now that the initial excitement of Carrie's return was over.

"What size winter boots did you get for her?"

"I sized up from the notes you gave me," she assured him, passing Judith her water bottle when she saw her looking for it. "You know, to account for thicker socks."

Rick smiled, having forgotten to mention this to her. "I knew it."

They both knew that he wasn't referring to the shoes just then, but to the fact that he had been right about her being a mother to Judith. Every time Carrie succeeded in something, particularly things she didn't think herself capable of, Rick told her that he knew she could. The first diaper change, the first bath and story time…the first temper tantrum. Carrie had learnt it all in the last ten weeks, just as Rick knew she would.

Carrie smiled too, and then she came over to join him on the couch. But as she approached she reached out and took his hand in hers, entwining their fingers as she sat down beside him. In one respect he should be glad that she still wanted to do something as simple as holding his hand, but he knew what that motion was indicating, that it was her way of asking him to give her some space. She didn't want him to touch her right now, she didn't want him to put his arm around her or kiss her cheek, and so she took control of the touch they shared by initiating it. Her need to keep him at a distance wasn't personal, but it did tell him that something was off, that all was not well.

"You're back much earlier than I expected. How did everything go out there?"

Not to his surprise, Carrie sighed before she answered. "I don't want to talk about it," she muttered, sounding annoyed. "Not yet, anyway."

Her answer surprised him, having expected that he would have been alerted to any issues the moment they returned. "Problems?"

"None that aren't taken care of now."

He wagered a guess. "Lana? Did something happen?" he enquired when he got no response.

"Nothing, just…" she trailed off, appearing to reconsider her answer. "She and I just don't see eye to eye."

Considering this, Rick was cautious about the conclusions he drew. On one hand he knew that Carrie was rational and very cautious these days, but that on the other hand she seemed to dislike Lana for no particular reason. She wasn't privy to the fact that Abraham had planted listening devices in the townhouse, or to Lana's original plans to steal from them. Though at first they hadn't gone out of their way to hide this from her, now that he was conscious of her strange dislike he didn't want to give her more reason.

"You don't like Lana very much, do you?" he enquired, curious as to how she would answer.

"That's not true. I don't like Lana at all."

He resisted the urge to chuckle, not feeling it would be welcomed. "Why?"

Carrie drew a breath as though she was going to answer, but then released it with a long sigh. I don't want to talk about it now…later, maybe." She turned a little and looked up at him. "Sorry."

Sensing her reluctance he chose to let it go, knowing that pushing the subject would only make her feel more defensive, that if he went too far she would get worked up. Instead he let them fall into silence, and a few minutes later he knew this had been the right thing. With a short sigh she raised his hand and draped it around her shoulder, moving closer against his side before kissing his cheek.

"It's good to be back."

Wanting more than that, Rick turned towards her and sought out her lips, glad when she kissed him properly. It was only soft, but it was all he needed in that moment, understanding of what she didn't and didn't want. There were a few moments of peace as they settled into the embrace, enjoying the innocent touch of their body against the other's, but it wasn't to last. Herschel let out a stuttered cry, the type of newborn grumble that would one day soon develop into a full blown wail. Almost immediately Rick felt tension in Carrie's shoulders, the fight or flight response kicking in at the sound of a crying baby she was ill equipped to help. To her, Herschel's cry was a problem or an indication that something was wrong, whereas it didn't overly concern Rick. A quick glance down assured him that the baby was fine, his cry settling into a few moments of silence before starting again.

"Is he alright?" Carrie enquired, looking at him in worry.

Though he suspected that Herschel was only minutes from falling asleep where he lay, Rick got up from the couch and went to him, unsurprised that Judith scurried away when she realised his crying was going to start again. He scooped the baby into his hands and then brought him back to the couch, comforting him as he laid him out in his lap and checked his diaper. It constantly amazed Rick how tiny he was, and he tried to remember what Judith and Carl were like at this age, if they had ever been this small and fragile.

"He's fine," he assured Carrie, watching as Herschel's tiny chest rose and fell, his eye lids heavy with sleepiness.

As the baby quietened he looked over at Carrie, noting the way she looked at him with a mixture of apprehension and affection. She'd been a little strange since his birth last weekend, and despite everyone else in their family clambering to hold the newborn, Carrie had not. She'd held him once, for a few awkward moments in which he could tell she was uncomfortable. Even Eugene had held him more than once. He thought that perhaps he understood the root of her discomfort, for being at the start of a relationship in the presence of a newborn, people tended to ask uninvited questions. When the community had gotten together earlier this week to wet the baby's head, someone had the nerve to ask Carrie when she and Rick were starting a family, and he had seen the look of thinly veiled horror on her face.

"Do you want to hold him?"

She hesitated for a moment, Rick feeling her shoulders lurch ever so slightly. "No, it's okay. He's comfortable there."

Her moment of hesitation was not missed by him, and he suspected what she really wanted. Ushering her to sit into the corner of the couch where she would be most comfortable, he picked Herschel up and then slowly passed him to her. He positioned him to lay in the crook of her arms, talking her through how to hold him comfortably before carefully pulling his tiny arm out from behind his back. Despite her initial refusal she took him without protest, nervously holding her breath until she saw Herschel getting comfortable and staying silent. As Rick anticipated his eyelids began to droop, and though he tried his best to look up and focus on Carrie's face, less than a minute after entering her arms he was sleeping.

"Do they always sleep this much?" she asked softly. Her free hand was holding his, studying his miniature fingers. "I've really only ever seen him asleep."

Remembering what Glenn had told him about the previous night, Rick shook his head. "They sleep a lot the first couple of weeks, but he's been keeping Glenn and Maggie up at night, that's for sure."

Comfortable silence fell again, and as he watched her holding the baby he found he couldn't look away, feeling almost entranced. He often felt this way when she was with Judith, loving the bond the two had formed, the things they did together. Every morning if Carrie was awake first she and Judith sat on the front porch together to watch the sunrise, Carrie drinking her morning coffee while Judith ate her breakfast. It was their little ritual, something Rick couldn't have anticipated her doing until he found them out there one morning. Much like then, the sight of her cradling the newborn entranced him. Now he studied her face, noting that she hadn't taken her eyes off Herschel, though he was doing nothing more interesting than breathing.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," she said softly, her tone sincere. A moment later she gave a small smile and then looked up at him. "I'm just trying to contain my ovaries from latching onto you next time we have sex."

In spite of the sleeping baby, Rick laughed out loud at this. At the sound of his laughter Judith came over eagerly, tugging on the leg of his jeans until he helped her up into his lap. As she settled there and beamed up at him Rick sobered a little, holding his daughter's gaze before turning to Carrie. "I thought you didn't want a baby," he said gently.

This was a subject they had talked about before, one that Rick had wanted them to consider, to get out of the way. Their relationship was serious now, they had made a commitment to seeing things through together, and to Rick that meant they needed to be aware of the future. They needed to know what the other wanted from this relationship, what they needed in order to feel fulfilled even in the awful state of the world. Before they got engaged he and Lori had talked about children, and their mutual agreement to have them was the final factor that sealed Rick's decision that he wanted to marry her.

With Carrie he wanted to have the same kind of understanding, they needed to be on the same page about these things, and so the subject had arisen. He told her that he was happy with his two children, that they were enough for him, but he needed to know how she felt too. If she wanted a baby of their own he would give that to her, but to his surprise she remained firm in her decision. From the very start of their relationship she had been adamant that children weren't on the cards for her, that Carl and Judith were enough.

"I don't want a baby," she answered, turning back to Herschel again. The same look of affection was back on her face, but she stood by her words. "I just didn't know he'd smell so good," she sighed in wonder, leaning down and pressing her nose to his cheek.

"Here," Rick said. Reaching over he stroked the top of Herschel's head. "Smell him here."

Doing as he suggested, Carrie gave a heavy sigh as she breathed in, her smile widening. "How long will he smell like this?"

"I don't know. I still think Judith smells the same as she did at that age, just sweatier and dirtier."

Carrie chuckled, finally taking her eyes off Herschel for more than a moment. "How do you ever put them down?"

"You've just got to remember that they turn into this," he said, gesturing to Judith who was presently undoing the buttons on his shirt. "And then into Carl."

"Ahhh, there's the reality check my ovaries needed," Carrie joked, though she affectionately stroked her hand over Judith's mousy brown curls. Without further comment she turned her attention back to Herschel, watching over him as he slept without a care in the world.

"I need to finish the compost," he began, batting away Judith's mischievous hands and fixing his buttons. "Do you want me to take him with me, or will you stay a little while?"

"Stay?" she said, looking up in alarm. "W-with him?"

He set Judith to her feet and then stood up from the couch. "Yeah, he's just sleeping. Is that okay?"

"No," she said firmly, shaking her head. "I'm not staying alone with him."

Part of Rick wanted to insist on it, to encourage her to stay and be with Herschel for just a little while, but he quickly thought better. "We'll take him with us," he reassured her, already looking for the stroller.

"Out?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"What about Glenn and Maggie?"

"I'll tell Glenn," he said, glancing through the open door of the master bedroom. Mentally running through everything they might need he brought the stroller over and laid out a light cloth. "Can you put him in?"

"No, you do it," she said quickly.

Though she was content to hold him in her arms, it seemed she was significantly less confident to actually handle him, perhaps intimidated by how small and fragile he felt in her hands. With expert care he took the baby from her arms and settled him into the stroller, wrapping him up in a comforting swaddle the way Maggie did. Reminding Judith to be quiet he went to the master bedroom and softly called Glenn's name, who immediately raised his head from the pillow and started to get up. Rick quickly ushered him back down, relaying the plan and assuring him that his son would be returned soon enough. For a moment it looked like Glenn might protest, but as he had before he took the help as it was offered, and with a heavy sigh he laid down beside Maggie and closed his eyes again.

"Do you want to push the stroller?" he offered Carrie, grabbing a disposable diaper and some wipes just in case.

"Sure, thanks." She sat on the living room floor, helping Judith put her sandals back on. "You'll need to get him down the steps though."

Doing as requested he pushed the stroller onto the porch and manoeuvred it down the steps, his expertise in the matter meaning that Herschel barely roused. As he set the brakes and waited for Carrie and Judith to follow him out he was struck by a memory of he and Lori, of the way they used to lower Carl's stroller down the twelve awkward steps in the King County Park, back when they had a new puppy who enjoyed frequent walks. As Carrie handed him the compost bucket and started pushing the stroller, Judith happily keeping pace beside her, Rick felt the type of longing he'd felt for a while now, the desire to see Carrie with a child of their own. He kept this desire to himself, feeling it unfair to project it onto her when she had made her own wishes so clear. Despite his desire to see her belly round with pregnancy and their own newborn in her arms, Rick did what he usually did and stopped thinking about it.

Beginning to make their way around the community he braced himself before entering the first house, prepared to face Jessie Anderson. What Pete had done had destroyed so much, one casualty being the friendship between Jessie and Carrie. Though it was more than justified, Carrie had been the one who killed Jessie's husband. So while it seemed in some respects that Jessie had forgiven her for this, it seemed neither of them were ready yet to move past it. Their friendship had not recovered, perhaps irrevocably broken…and Rick was glad. It was cruel, he knew that, but he didn't want Carrie to be friends with Jessie. He wanted his family to have as little involvement with the Andersons as possible, particularly with Ron. It was bad enough that Carl shared a classroom with him and that Rick occasionally took him out to see Pete's grave, they didn't need anymore involvement than that.

To his relief Jessie didn't appear to be home just now, and trusting that Ron would be at school Rick simply let himself inside and went into the kitchen. He had seen Sam playing outside by the lake, and so was unconcerned about awkward encounters with him either. With that taken care of, he and Carrie resumed their journey around Alexandria, Judith alternating between walking and insisting that she be held on Carrie's hip, determined to watch over her baby cousin as he slept soundly. The further they went around the community the more attention they drew, and by the time they made it to Betsy and David's house Carrie and the stroller were at risk of being swarmed. The attention and excitement of Herschel's birth had not abated, and as Glenn and Maggie did every time they went for a walk, the newborn drew attention from all.

They made it a half hour before Rick noticed Herschel starting to rouse, his arms twitching in the swaddle as his head started moving. Recognising the cues Rick hurried the final few houses, and as they reached their last stop at the Infirmary his eyes were fluttering open, lips and tongue already sucking on thin air. As he left her to wait out on the street he took a quick look at Carrie as she admired Herschel, amused to note that she had no idea he was hungry, that if they didn't return him to his mother soon he was going to start crying for her. He oughtn't find it amusing, but he had quite enjoyed being an observer to her learning curve over the last few months, helping and watching on as she learnt how to be a mother to Judith. As she reached up and pulled the small canopy over to shield Herschel's face from the sun, Rick one again tried not to think about her with a child of their own.

Conscientious of getting the baby home, Rick hastened into the Infirmary and knocked the door, noting from the open blind that Denise wasn't seeing any patients. Denise welcomed him in happily and went to fetch the small container of food scraps from her kitchen, the two of them making small talk about mundane things like the late August heatwave. It was nice to talk to Denise about the weather and not Carl's health.

"Rick?" he heard Tara's voice call out, followed by some hurried footsteps upstairs. "Rick, is that you? Wait a sec."

"I'm here," he called back, continuing when he saw her emerge from the hallway in a rush. "What's the rush?"

"What? Oh no, nothing…no rush," she said, sounding a little flustered. She took a deep breath as she came into the kitchen, looking glad to have caught him before he left. Despite this there was an awkward pause now, Tara looking at him expectantly…he just didn't know what for.

"Tara? If there something I can do for you?"

She and Denise exchanged a loaded glance, and Tara looked back at him with a heavy sigh. "So, she hasn't told you what happened?"

"Who?" he asked, beginning to connect the dots a moment later. "Carrie? What happened?"

"Ummm. Maybe I should let her tell you."

Feeling impatient, Rick set the bucket of compost down and looked at Tara, titling his head a little. "You're the leader of the run crew. If there's something I need to be aware of, then tell me."

Tara and Denise shared another loaded glance, and it was then she seemed to brace herself to tell him. "We met two people from another group, and it almost turned ugly. It was just a misunderstanding."

Rick flexed his jaw, not liking where this was going at all. Another group? That was an unwelcome occurrence. "And?"

"And…Lana bartered another meeting for next week, and then Carrie lost her shit and…" she trailed off awkwardly before forcing herself to continue. "Then she raised her gun to Lana. They had a huge argument. Unkind words were said."

At this Rick had to raise an eyebrow. "Unkind words?"

"Yeah," she answered, clearly uncomfortable to be telling him this. "Rick, I really hate to say this. I didn't like the way Lana organised another meeting with these people, but Carrie was way out of line. She really…she was really upset."

His good mood fading, Rick shifted his weight between his feet, trying to think. "Upset? Upset about…" he trailed off, momentarily losing his train of thought when he heard Herschel beginning to cry outside. The rushed pitter patter of footsteps warned him of Judith's approach, and he turned just as she appeared in the doorway with a wide smile on her face.

"Ah 'dere!" she exclaimed, pointing at Rick as she looked back outside.

Though poorly delivered, he recognised the summons he was receiving, that Carrie wanted him to come back out and tend to Herschel. He hesitated for a moment, torn between wanting to get the baby back home and hearing more about what happened.

"I'll be back in ten minutes," he said to Tara, picking up the compost bucket and heading for the door. "I want you to tell me everything."

"Rick, maybe you should talk to-"

"Ten minutes."

He forced his facial expression back to neutral, a determined resolve coming over him as he swiftly returned to Carrie's side. Whatever had happened, Carrie was already reluctant to talk to him about it, and so he knew he needed to go about this the right way. He needed to get the full story before bringing it up with her, and he trusted Tara's diplomacy, her ability to give him the whole picture without unfairly taking sides. She would explain to him what had happened, give him a full debrief of the supply run like she ought to have done the moment she returned. Earlier he had been complacent, figuring that as no one sought him out to deliver a debrief that nothing of significance had happened. Now that he knew otherwise, he wanted to hear everything.

"We'd better get this little boy home," he smiled, joining Carrie where she stood with Judith and the stroller. He looked down at Herschel, glad to note he had wriggled his arm out of the swaddle and started sucking on his fingers. While he was still hungry and longing for his mother, for now he was quiet at least. Rick didn't want to bring Maggie's baby home crying in hunger.

"You took your time in there," Carrie said lightly as they set off towards home.

Her tone was lighthearted and friendly, but Rick suspected she'd been feeling stressed by Herschel's brief bout of crying. As they walked she ushered Judith to hurry lest she be left behind, but he saw her glance up at him from the corner of her eye.

"Just took a little longer is all," he answered, matching her lighthearted tone.

As they walked home together Rick resisted the urge to ask her about the supply run, reminding himself to bide his time and get the full picture.

* * *

A/N Don't forget to add this story to your favourites so that you can get notifications for new chapters. Thanks everyone.


	4. Chapter 4

It was to Rick's relief that they returned Herschel to his mother without delay, for the moment they crossed the threshold he started to fuss. His dark brown eyes fluttered open, and no longer satisfied with sucking on his fingers he opened his mouth wide and gave a low cry, making sounds to alert his mother to his dissatisfaction. As he suspected, although Glenn and Maggie appreciated the opportunity to get some rest, they had been awaiting their son's return and met them at the door. Sleepless nights meant little to them, the new parents finding it within themselves to keep going, knowing they had many people upon who they could lean on for support.

As Maggie took Herschel out of the stroller his cries began to ease into soft grunts, his head turning this way and that as recognised the comforting smell of his mother. So while Maggie sat down on the couch she offered Carrie a cold drink, playfully clicking her fingers at Glenn and telling him to get some refreshments. Rick on the other hand politely declined, citing the bucket of compost that was waiting for him out on the pavement. While Carrie and Judith stayed a little while Rick took his leave, making quick work of emptying the bucket into the compost heap before returning to the Infirmary.

He stayed there longer than he had expected, listening to Tara recount the events of the supply run leading up to the incident in the shopping mall, and then pressing her for details. There was no denying that none of this was news that he wanted to hear, much preferring the idea that the small community of Alexandria were the only ones around, that they were the lone survivors who had no fear of anyone bothering them. But in reality he had always known they weren't alone out there, for though there hadn't been any sighting of the Wolves there were still more Walkers with the W appearing almost day. Now it seemed the Wolves weren't the only ones out there, and once again there was another group that possibly posed a threat to Rick and his people.

But maybe things would be different this time.

Nevertheless, the other group wasn't even the most immediate problem to address, even with the knowledge that Lana had bartered a future meeting and exchange of goods. Carrie's reaction had been disproportionate to the situation. As much as he didn't like to admit it, she had crossed a line by raising her weapon to a person in her group, for even that simple act was enough to violate a much needed trust. Raising your gun to someone meant that you were willing to take their life, that you were prepared for any consequences that followed…what the hell was Carrie thinking?

Wanting time to wrap his head around it he delayed his return home, instead returning to the greenhouse and getting a start on the chores he had in mind. Just as he closed the door behind himself he caught a glimpse of Carrie and Judith leaving the second house, knowing exactly how long to visit before allowing the new parents to be alone. So while Carrie returned home Rick closed himself inside the greenhouse, working up a sweat as he tidied things and tended to some of the plants. Checking the soil and assessing the leaves for fungi felt therapeutic, allowing him to get his thoughts in order before returning home a short while later.

There was a confrontation to be had, one that could turn ugly if he didn't carefully manage the things he said and the direction the conversation went. He had to go about this in the right way, he had to make sure that he didn't accuse Carrie of any wrongdoing, nor allow her to think he wasn't on her side. Like he expected he came home to find her curled up on the couch with a book in hand, while Judith happily played with the toys that were strewn about the house.

Full of energy Judith happily bounded over to them, never faltering when she tripped over her feet and landed on the hardwood floor. As she got up and brushed herself off Rick saw the way Carrie's shoulders relaxed, knowing she had been holding her breath to wait and see if Judith was hurt. Eager to get back to her book Carrie flicked through the pages and then glanced up at him with a welcoming smile, reminding him of how well she had settled into her role as Judith's mom, how much she enjoyed being with his children. Wishing he didn't have to ruin this moment for them, he came over and gently pressed his lips to her forehead.

"You and I need to talk about the supply run."

Her face fell, a shadow of annoyance crossing her face as she looked up at him. A moment later she took a deep breath and sighed, looking away. "You've spoken to Tara."

"Yes. She told me what happened. I should have been told the moment you got back."

"You don't even want to hear my side of things?" she questioned, defensive already.

"I do," he assured her. "That's why we need to talk."

Leaving it at that he chose to give her a few moments of space, trusting that she would be willing to talk to him. He headed into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to indulge in an afternoon beer, a luxury he could take advantage of now that he had fewer responsibilities for watch and security checks. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No, thank you," she replied shortly.

Abandoning her book she came to join him in the kitchen, her body language confrontational and aggressive already. Taking a sip of his beer Rick sat down on one of the kitchen stools, whereas Carrie remained standing, her ams folded and her jaw set.

"So, what did Tara tell you?"

There was a hint of accusation in her voice, this telling him that she was still upset about what had happened, that despite the pleasant way they walked through the community earlier she was not alright.

"She told me that there were two strangers in the mall you were scavenging, that they took you by surprise and things started to turn ugly. Things settled, Lana negotiated another meeting on neutral ground, and then you two got into an argument after."

"Lana is reckless," she started angrily. "She's completely compromised us now. And then she had the nerve to say that she was providing for Carl and that I wasn't, as if everything I'm doing out there is just for fun."

Rick nodded as he listened, though on the inside he was already disappointed. Of everything that had happened, it was Lana who first came to Carrie's mind, the woman she seemed to have an unfounded grudge against.

"She told them we need contraception, and that we need antibiotics too. She completely showed this guy our hand, and now he knows what we need. He can use that against us, all because she was stupid enough to open her mouth."

"Carrie, stop," Rick said, his firm tone making her stop in her tracks. He held her gaze for a few moments, seeing the aggression in her eyes but recognising it for what it really was, self-doubt. She was upset by what had happened, she was trying to defend herself against criticism and accusations of wrongdoing. "You don't need to defend yourself to me. I just want to know what happened, that's all."

Not to his surprise, Carrie's aggression seemed to recede now, slowly to be replaced by uncertainty. She seemed to hold her breath for a moment, looking away from him as she tried to hold herself together. He'd seen her like this before, he'd seen her moods go from one extreme to the other, and he'd been patient and understanding. What had happened with Pete was traumatic, she'd feared for her life and for Carl's. She'd been groped by that mongrel, he had put his hands all over her and brought back memories of another attack, of the three days in which another group had extorted sex from her under the pretence of not harming her people. It seemed that after over a year of apparently handling that trauma, these days it was all coming to the surface.

He didn't blame her for the way she was trying to process what had happened to her, for the unexplained mood swings or the overreactions to small inconveniences. She was still the woman he loved, he had made a commitment to her that he was going to see through, but it was increasingly difficult on them both. Since she had rejoined the run crew five weeks ago things seemed to have become harder, this being when her behaviour had taken a dramatic turn. Self-consciously, Rick was also aware of another change that had occurred about that time, that it was around then they had started having sex again. In the aftermath of Pete's attack he had understood her outright rejection of intimacy, not taking it to heart when she turned away from his embrace, when she avoided sex all together. Even when she had swapped with Carl and moved into the master bedroom they didn't start having sex again, and it was only about fix weeks ago that they slowly started.

Was that the problem? Was she not ready for sex after all that had happened to her? On one hand Rick had been quietly overjoyed when their gentle kisses began turning into something more, but on the other hand it made his stomach turn to consider the possibility that she wasn't really ready for it. Was she having sex with him because she felt guilty for their lack of it? Did she think he had been getting impatient? Or worse, had he made her feel that way?

"Tell me what's going on, Carrie…please," he added.

Having had a minute or so to begin collecting herself, Carrie drew a shuddering breath and then started. "I overreacted, I know I did," she said quietly. "It's just…everything happened so quickly, and I thought that he was…"

When she didn't finish her thought, Rick prompted her to keep going. "Start from the beginning."

She nodded, though first she glanced into the living room to check on Judith, ever attentive to her. "Lana and I got into it immediately…before we even left the gates," she said with a bitter laugh. "It was petty stuff, and I was being a bitch. It's just so easy to be a bitch to her."

"Why?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she made it clear she didn't want to talk about that. "I wanted to go into a music store, and she said it was a waste of time. I went in anyway, because I wanted to get Carl an electric guitar, like we talked about for his birthday. While I was in there another group took me by surprise, and things just got out of hand," she explained, her words speeding up a little as though she needed to get through it as quickly as possible. "I thought he was attacking me, but he…he said it was all me, that I pulled him down."

"Which was it?"

"I don't know," she said quietly. A few moments passed in silence, her arms folded across her chest as she looked at the ground. "He wasn't attacking me. I overreacted."

Given what he had heard about it all, Rick could hardly blame her. Tara had given him her recount of the events, that she got there just in time to see this man scrambling away from Carrie, fighting off her attempts to defend herself from him. Lana had gotten to her aid first, delivering a heavy kick to the groin that rendered the man immobile in agony. Following that Carrie lay frozen on the floor, struggling to catch her breath as she slowly managed to get herself together. No matter which way the incident had started, Carrie must have felt under attack. According to Tara she had told them to shoot the man, that she said that more than once. This was a complete change of character for her, an indication of how much stress she had been under in that moment.

"They started talking, and that's when Lana crossed a line," she continued, her tone becoming resolute with her opinion. "She told them we needed contraception and antibiotics, and that we'd meet them at the Washington Monument. She was completely irresponsible, she could have severely compromised us!"

He hesitated now, choosing his words and tone very carefully. "Is that why you raised your gun to her?"

Instantly he saw the regret and embarrassment she harboured, having recognised this move as a major mistake. "You would have done the same," she insisted, her tone becoming defensive again. "She was endangering us."

Only somewhat agreeing, he quickly changed the subject. "They said they wanted gun powder?" he enquired, continuing when she nodded. "Did it sound like they were manufacturing bullets?"

"Maybe. They asked for scrap metal too. They also said if we wanted to trade but have nothing to give we can work, like we're prisoners in some kind of labour camp."

"It's an interesting premise," he muttered.

She looked up at this, her eyes narrowed. "You're not considering this, are you?"

Again choosing his words carefully, he answered as best he could. "It's worth thinking about."

"Rick, no," she said forcefully. "We can't. We don't know these people, they could be anyone!"

"I know," he agreed with her. "But I need to consider the implications of both choices. Having another group around isn't ideal, but I'd rather know a little about them than nothing at all." He shifted uncomfortably, taking a long sip of his beer. "Tara told me they have Cephalexin…that they're bringing some for us."

In spite of her determination that they not meet with these people, he knew she recognised the importance of this. Cephalexin seemed to be about the only antibiotic that didn't render Carl horribly sick with side effects, that didn't upset his stomach or cause a horrible rash. They had run out of it following the first infection in his wound, and since then the treatment for subsequent infections involved his son being practically bedridden with stomach cramps and vomiting. It meant two weeks of his life put on hold, his day to day health going up and down. Though he was alright at the present, Rick dreaded the next infection that developed. He knew that Carrie felt the same way, that their supply runs had been planned with finding antibiotics in mind.

"This group, they might have a doctor," he added gently. "Denise is good, Carl owes his life to her, but she's not a surgeon…she hasn't practiced anything other than psychiatry for a long time."

Carrie didn't say anything to this, perhaps knowing that he was right, that the opportunity to get antibiotics for Carl and perhaps even a second doctor to review his injury was invaluable. To Rick it was worth the risk…it was at least worth thinking about.

"Carrie, you know that I want you to be happy, that I've supported your decision to go back on the run crew," he began, wanting to reassure her of this before he continued. "But are you sure it's the right decision? Are you sure you haven't gone back too soon?"

"I'm sure," she replied shortly, though he noticed her shifting her feet as she spoke.

"You have nothing to prove, especially for Carl. Providing for him is about more than going out to find supplies. It's about being around for him, being a friend, supporting him. That's a mistake I was making before all of this, before we changed things and I stepped back."

"I'm not trying to prove anything."

"Then why are you going out there?"

"Because I want to," she said insistently, her voice starting to sound strained. "I want to get back out there, I…I want to do what I used to, before everything happened."

He paused for a moment, considering what she had said. "It's just…you seem like you're carrying so much pressure right now, like something's bothering you. If it's not the run crew, what is it?"

She fell silent again, but Rick caught the way the tendons in her neck tensed up, the way her lips were pressed together. Turning to Judith who was happily playing she watched her for a few moments before finally nodding, her face falling as everything got the better of her. Tears welled up in her eyes, a shuddering breath escaping her lips before she tried to wipe her cheeks. As he watched her trying to hold herself together he wished that he could go to her, that he could bring her into his arms and soothe her as easily as he could soothe Judith, but he stayed seated. She didn't want him to touch her earlier…he had to wait.

"Rick, I think…" she trailed off, reconsidering what she had been about to say. With a deep breath she wiped her cheeks and then tried again. "Maybe I am feeling the pressure."

"Pressure from what?"

"I…I don't know…everything," she said, the words falling from her lips as though each brought much needed relief. "I _fucking_ _hate_ Lana. I hate her guts…she's so fucking perfect, and I hate it. I know you find her attractive."

Rick's eyes widened, surprised by her latter remark. "Where has that come from?"

"You do."

"O-okay, sure," he agreed, seeing no use in denying it. Lana was an attractive woman, anyone with eyes could see that. "I find her attractive. I also find Michonne attractive, and don't think I haven't seen you checking out Spencer…it doesn't mean anything."

To his relief Carrie nodded in agreement, looking at him apologetically. "I know it doesn't mean anything," she paused, taking a shuddering breath. "I know that this is all my own issue, and that Lana doesn't deserve to be hated…it's just really easy to hate her."

"So, this is all about Lana?"

Carrie shrugged her shoulders, a deep breath helping her continue. "I miss Jessie."

Rick's heart fell, having anticipated that this problem would be weighing on Carrie's mind. "Yeah, I thought you might."

"I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think. What Pete did is not her fault, but I just…I can't get past the fact that she misses him," she said quietly, turning to look at Judith as she spoke. "She's grieving for that pig, and I just can't…I can't understand it."

"He was her husband," he remarked quietly, though he shared Carrie's feelings on the matter.

"Y-you should see the way she looks at me now," she shuddered, wiping more moisture from her cheeks. "It's like she's forgotten what he did to her and the kids. Like what he did to me and Carl was nothing."

"Have you tried talking to her? Reaching out?"

She nodded solemnly, still watching Judith. "Don't be upset, but the reason I went on that first supply run was because they were going to Forest Hills…it's where they lived."

"Who? Jessie?"

"Yeah. I got her address from Deanna's filing cabinet, and I went on the run. I wanted to get some some stuff for her, like their wedding album, some things from Pete's desk. I thought she'd like them for Ron and Sam."

"That's the reason you rejoined the run crew?" he asked, disappointed when she nodded again to confirm. He wished that she hadn't gone back before she ready, and clearly the incident today indicated that this seemed to be the case.

"I left it all on her doorstep. I thought maybe she would reach out to me, that she'd be glad for it all."

"She hasn't?"

"No." Wiping her eyes again she took a deep breath and turned back to him, her downcast expression showing him how disappointed she was, how heartbroken she must feel to have lost Jessie as her friend.

Looking at Carrie and seeing her grief for the lost friendship, the guilt that had been burning inside him for weeks now reared its ugly head. Jessie had reached out to Carrie once, she had come by one evening when Carrie was upstairs taking a hot bath after her first supply run. At the time he hadn't known about Carrie's gesture, he hadn't realised what might have prompted Jessie to come by. All he knew was that her visit was uninvited, and he had told her in no uncertain terms to leave his family alone, to not come by again. At the time he thought he was doing the right thing, that he was not adding to Carrie's stress by telling her Jessie had come by…though he was starting to question that, he was adamant that he had done the right thing. Nothing good could come from the Anderson family, even now that Pete was dead. Tensions between Ron and Carl had already indicated that the past could not be left in the past.

"You did a good thing by bringing her that stuff," he said, though he wished she hadn't. "There's nothing else you can do now."

"But maybe if I jus-"

"No," he cut her off. Though he disliked telling her what to do, in this case it felt necessary to tell her what he thought. "Let it go, Carrie. Focus on other things in your life, not her."

Her silence indicated that although she had heard what he said, perhaps she hadn't truly listened. He prayed that she paid attention to his advice, wishing that she wasn't so focused on Jessie, that she didn't bring herself any more heartache. Didn't she have enough of that already?

"Carrie," he began gently, unsure of how she would take what he said next. "I wish you'd go back to Denise, that you'd start talking to her again."

"You think I'm losing it?" she accused lowly, sounding defensive.

"No," was his honest response. "But I think you were doing better when you were talking to her."

There was a long silence, Carrie dwelling on these words as she stood with her arms folded. Though her tears had stopped falling her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, her emotional struggle was bared on her face. He hoped that she at least considered his wish, that she might start talking to Denise like she had been in the early days after the attack. Now that she didn't see Denise as often it felt like he was watching her slowly unravel, like week by week she was finding it harder to be herself.

"I just want to get through this shit from today," Carrie finally said. Her cheeks were dry now, her jaw set as she held herself together. "Are you really going to see this guy?"

Rick was reluctant to commit to an answer. "I'm not sure. I need to think about it."

"Don't," was her blunt request. "Please don't do this. It's a risk."

"It's a risk I need to consider. If this guy is legitimate, then we need this. Our son needs this," he added, knowing that referring to Carl this way was not without impact. He could tell she had noticed his choice of words and liked them, but still she was not confident.

"I thought I had a legitimate agreement once. What if this is another Granger?"

"I'd never put you in that position," he said quietly, knowing the type of fears she harboured. He remembered a horrible moment from months ago on the Georgia supply run, the morning their paths crossed with the man who led the group that had raped her. At the time he didn't know Carrie the way he did now, but the vulnerability and fear in her eyes was not forgotten. It wasn't something he wanted to see in her again…but he needed to think about this offer.

"Carrie," he began, waiting until she looked at him. "What can I do?"

She frowned at this. "For me?"

"Yes."

Perhaps embarrassed by the fact that he knew she was struggling right now, she took a deep breath and turned way, delaying her answer. Despite this Rick was content to wait patiently, knowing her well enough to just give her some time to think, to mull over her answer. A few moments later her shoulders sagged with a long sigh.

"I want to do what we always do," she requested, coming over as he stood up. "I'm going to cook dinner even though it's your turn. Then you, Carl and Daryl will eat and pretend it's not barely edible. You'll do the dishes, I'll put Judy to bed, and we'll nag Carl to do his homework. That's what I want."

Rick nodded, understanding. She wanted things to be normal, to be easy and uncomplicated by what had happened on the supply run. "It's Aaron and Daryl's last night before they leave again. Everyone's coming over, we're having a grill."

She took the change of plans in her stride. "In that case, I'll make some salads and you handle the grill."

Softly agreeing, Rick held her gaze for a few moments, observing her tired and blood shot eyes. Sensing that she wouldn't refuse him he raised his hand and brushed some loose hair off her face, letting his hand linger on the side of her neck. They shared a gentle kiss now, and when she moved into his arms he welcomed her gratefully, having missed her that day. It was hard being the one left at home to await her safe return, and now knowing what he did he hoped that she didn't go back out on the next supply run, that she chose instead to stay home with him and their family.

"Should I get you some lettuce from the gardens?"

Carrie shook her head, her hands resting on his forearms as she lingered in his embrace a little longer. "No, I'll go out."

He kissed her again, his fingers trailing through her blonde hair that was at her shoulders now. It was unusual for her to grow it out, and for a moment he worried she was doing so because she feared he was attracted to Lana, whose long blonde hair appeared to have escaped the damage of this world. Despite this Rick knew why she was growing it out, her estrangement from Jessie meaning she wasn't sure who to go to for a cut. Carol would be able to cut it for her, Maggie too, but for now he chose to leave her alone about it…perhaps she liked it longer these days.

As if they hadn't just had their most difficult conversation in weeks, Carrie simply got on with it, hustling Judith to find her hat and shoes so they could go out into the gardens together. Just like always Rick was amazed at the way she bonded with the daughter they were now raising together, how happily Judith had learnt to respond to her. When they disappeared into the abundant gardens to find the food they would need, Rick finished the rest of his beer and headed into the garage. Though he had taken a step back from maintaining security and being the leader, the surveillance system still operated out of his garage, and he was still often found in there watching the camera feed of the outside world.

Despite good intentions and finally having the right supplies, Alexandria had not yet installed more surveillance cameras out in the woods, reluctant to spend any more time out there than necessary. The last real sighting of the Wolves had been months ago, the week prior to Pete's attack, but the signs were still out there. Occasionally they caught blurry glimpses of them on the hunting cameras further out, the Walkers with the W still a constant and growing presence. Another of their safe houses had been discovered and plundered, and although none of their weapons or ammunition that were buried had been stolen, it was still a worrying trend. To compensate they had managed to secure another safe house, returning their number back to four, but they knew of the implications. The Wolves knew they were close to Alexandria, they were honing in on the location of the community…perhaps they had already found them, perhaps they were just biding their time.

A few months ago Lana's group had fallen victim to the Wolves, finding themselves taken by surprise in the middle of the night. When Lana made the call to surrender their belongings to the would be thieves she thought that she was making the right call to save lives, sacrificing their things in order to keep their lives, but that's when it had gone wrong. The moment they surrendered the real attack began, costing three of her group their lives while the others barely escaped. The day he and Deanna interviewed her she had recounted the attack in detail, the brutality of it astounding Rick, not that he had come to expect much different given what they had already seen.

If the security feed was anything to go by, all was quiet out in the woods, at least those areas covered by the three cameras that gave a live view. Watching the monitors and seeing only the slow shuffle of a few Walkers, Rick tried to reassure himself that all was well, that there was nothing to worry about. They had four watch posts that were manned twenty four hours a day, most residents were trained and went about their day carrying a side arm and pocket knife, each house had quick access to a fully stocked gun safe, radio and knives. If something did happen, they would be alright.

Though he hadn't seen her out there in months, Rick kept his eyes peeled for Enid, always wondering if she continued sneaking over the walls like she used to. Following the day two of the Wolves attacked and tried to kill Carl, Enid had reluctantly agreed to stop going out, unable to argue the implications of her being followed home. The Wolves had already told Carl they had tried following her before, and even though they kept losing track of her there was still the risk that they might succeed. Knowing that it was out of obligation and not preference that Enid stayed inside, Rick and the others continued to keep their eyes peeled, just to be sure she wasn't going back on her word.

But today he needn't have worried, for as soon as the older kids were let out of school Enid was hanging around their house, practicing the ongoing routine of coming home with Carl to hang out. By now she was as much a permanent fixture in their home as Michonne was, and Rick held no reservations about setting the both of them to work that afternoon. Though he let Carl off his homework so that he could spend time with Daryl before he departed the following morning, he set the two teens onto helping get ready for the grill out that evening, the entire community doing a little with the rations they had in order to put on a casual farewell. In no time at all the farewell was in full swing, the residents congregating out on the street as the sun slowly set. All with the exception of those on watch and Jessie and Ron were in attendance, the atmosphere pleasant despite the fact they were preparing for the departure of two of their own.

The younger kids had brought with them their bicycles and skateboards, Connor and Dean helpfully talking Hayley through some tricks she was trying to master. Elsewhere Herschel lay cradled in Glenn's arms, the new father reluctant to put him down or pass him around to the many onlookers who came to admire him. He too admiring him, Sam was in the company of Carol and Tobin, completely oblivious to the fact he was intruding on the couple, not that they appeared to mind very much. While Jessie and Ron made a point of avoiding all people associated with Rick, Carl and Carrie, Sam hadn't been able to bring himself to giving up his odd friendship with Carol.

Looking around a little more, Rick took note of Carl and Mikey sitting across the road together, and judging by the faces they were pulling it wasn't soda in their plastic cups. Knowing there was only one person who would dare give his son alcohol without his permission Rick set his eyes on Daryl, who as expected had a can of beer in his hands. These days Daryl didn't always avoid the attention he got, the community having slowly come to see him for who he was, recognising him as more than a surly glare. Ever since the day he and Aaron had returned with their very first recruit, Gordon, perceptions of Daryl had been changing. Certainly his efforts to recruit Lana's group had gone a long way in helping with that too, their arrival having brought many skills and friendly faces.

"Everything alright?" he asked, seeing Carrie and Judith crossing the porch and heading towards him. Judith looked particularly unhappy with something, her bottom lip stuck out as she tried to summon some tears.

"We're fine," Carrie smiled genuinely, jostling Judith on her hip to elicit a smile. "But mean Mommy won't share her wine. We're going to get her some juice."

Noticing the way Carrie held her half glass of red wine far out of Judith's reach, Rick couldn't help but chuckle. Judith's belief that all food and drink was hers for the taking had yet to abate. Struck by an impulse, Rick put his hand on Carrie's arm before she could move past him, and a slight tilt of the head was all he needed to tell her what he wanted. She came back and afforded him the requested kiss.

"Yuck," she declared, perhaps getting a taste of the beer he was drinking. She had never liked beer, and frequently made her distaste known when she kissed him in moments like this.

"What have you got there?" he enquired, gesturing to her glass. He hadn't been able to taste anything on her lips, and he was a little curious.

"A two thousand and seven cabernet sauvignon. It's delicious…want some?"

"Maybe tomorrow. I'll stick with my beer."

"Okay. How far is dinner?" she asked, gesturing to the grill. "People are getting hungry."

"It's ready when it's ready," he told her, his usual answer to this question.

She rolled her eyes and left, playfully jostling Judith to elicit another smile. Rick fondly watched them go into the kitchen, for at the sight of his daughter laughing and kissing Carrie on the cheek he found he couldn't look away. But it wasn't the kiss that held most of his attention, nor the happy bond that had developed between mother and daughter…it was the way Carrie quickly looked around the kitchen and then tipped her red wine down the sink, having not even taken a sip.

* * *

It was barely daylight when Carrie awoke early the next morning, the sound of a quiet voice rousing her from her comfortable sleep. She was sprawled out in the bed, the sheets kicked off in the middle of the night while Rick slept with his arm loosely slung over her waist. Like she often did every morning, she took a moment to bask in how nice it was to wake up beside him every day, listening to the sound of his slow breathing. His arm was heavy around her waist, but given the heat of the night they didn't sleep much closer than that.

"Dad," Judith said quietly. "Daddy…Daddy?"

With a long sigh she turned over and looked at the time, seeing that it was a little past five o'clock in the morning. Despite the early hour Carrie smiled and propped herself up on her elbow, looking past Rick to the crib that still resided on his side of the bedroom. Judith stood at the railing looking at her, her eyes heavy with sleep and her hair mussed up on one side. She appeared to be waiting patiently, and when she saw that Carrie had awoken she smiled sleepily. Their relationship had developed wonderfully, though on mornings like this it was still Rick that she called for first.

"Mommy…"

With a long sigh she moved Rick's hand off her waist and got up, hearing him sleepily mumble his gratitude for her getting up. He too had roused, always waking at any significant sound either of his children made during the night, but he was reluctant to do anything about it this morning. Indulging himself and wishing that Daryl wasn't leaving on another recruiting run, Rick had consumed more than his share of beers last night, and was likely nursing a small headache that morning. Hoping he had remembered to drink some water before collapsing into bed last night, Carrie reached for her own glass on her night stand, and before tending to Judith she drank it all down. She needed to go to the bathroom, but instead she waited.

As she crossed the room she slipped on her long silk robe and tied it at the waist, a necessity given she wore only underwear and a threadbare tank top. "Shhhh," she whispered as she pulled Judith out of her crib, reaching in and picking up her duck lest it be left behind. "Daddy's sleeping, shhhh."

As Judith mumbled her agreement she rested her head on Carrie's shoulder and snuggled down, her long legs wrapping around her waist. Well practiced now, she checked the diaper and decided it needed to be changed, glad when Judith tolerated it this morning despite her desire for a cuddle. With the diaper changed Carrie sat on the bed and let her snuggle against her chest once more, the little girl slowly awakening in her own time. Realising she was still there, Rick gave a pained moan as he shuffled over and heavily lay his arm across her lap.

"Headache?" Carrie teased.

"Mmmm."

As Judith awakened, Carrie reached over and ran her hands through his messy hair, letting the dark brown curls fall through her fingers. He was unshaven for the last week, and despite it being the result of nothing other than laziness, she liked his scruffy face and hair.

"Puh on shome cawphie…"

"What was that?"

"Coffee."

Carrie leant down and kissed Rick on the forehead, brushing her hand though his hair once more. "Of course." After a few moments passed in peaceful silence she turned to Judith next, kissing her forehead the way she had kissed Rick's. She was wide awake now, sucking her thumb as she looked up at Carrie, still snuggled into her chest. "Come on, Judy Pie…let's face the day."

As she crossed the room she swung Judith onto her hip, but she slowed to a confused stop as she looked at the bedroom door which was wide open. She had closed it herself after Rick had left it open after collapsing into bed, and it ought to have still been closed. Slowly realising what must be going on again her heart sank, for there was only one reason for him to keep the door open at night.

"Is Carl sick again?"

Rick nodded, turning onto his back and wearily rubbing his face. "Yeah…he's been up half the night."

"Does it have anything to do with what he had in his cup last night?" she asked, thinking of the beer Daryl had slipped him.

"No…he barely drank half a cup."

Feeling a little more sympathetic to Rick's tiredness, she gave a soft sigh. It wasn't unusual for Carl to suddenly come down sick without warning. Sometimes he bounced back very quickly, other times he was lethargic and without an appetite for days. She left the master bedroom and crept down the hallway, reminding Judith to be quiet as she peered through Carl's open door. He lay sprawled out on top of his bed, a pedestal fan blowing a gale force directly onto his face. She didn't go inside uninvited, but from the threshold she could see that he looked pale and sweaty, the empty bucket on the floor another indication that he had been unwell.

Everything Rick said yesterday was weighing on her more heavily now, and in that instant she knew that he was going to be more inclined to take this meeting with the people they had come across yesterday. Her own feelings on the matter hadn't changed over night, she still feared the potential of what might happen should they connect with another group, she still lived in fear of the consequences of things going wrong…but she understood what was at stake. If these people had medicine or a more experienced doctor, perhaps Carl could start getting on with his life. Like Rick, she was tired of seeing him like this, seeing him struck down by infections and the side effects of antibiotics.

Despite this weighing on her mind, Carrie steeled herself before going about the other task she had to complete that morning, one she needed utmost privacy for. Passing by the master bedroom she peered inside to ensure that Rick was still in bed, trying to get a little more rest before facing the day with a hangover and sick child. Satisfied that her activities would go undetected, she carried Judith on her hip and slipped into the bedroom directly across from the master, the one Michonne used to occupy before moving next door.

The room was almost completely bare now, the main feature being the colourful swatches of paint on the walls. When Rick decided she was ready this room was to become Judith's, and as such was a work in progress to get it ready for her. Carrie had been pleasantly surprised by how much interest Rick had taken in preparing this room, the fastidious and critical way he struggled to decide between soft yellow and soft pink for the feature wall. In the far corner covered by a sheet was a handmade toy chest that Tobin and Carl had built for her, painted a crisp white that would match the bed they was also building. While it would be easy to go to IKEA just as they had done for Herschel's supplies, there was something so deeply personal and wonderful about a bed someone had made for Judith by hand. Against the wall leant a brand new mattress, still in its plastic wrapping as it awaited the bed to go on.

Silently closing the bedroom door, Carrie made her way into the en suite bathroom and closed that door too. Having been through this process before Judith didn't protest when she was set down, happily making her way into the shower cubicle to look at the feature tiles whose colour and texture always fascinated her. With her occupied, Carrie removed her silk robe and hung it on the hook behind the door, and then got on with things.

She sat down on the toilet but forced herself to hold her bladder a little longer, instead reaching into the drawer of the bathroom cabinet beside her. She opened a box from inside and removed the contents, well accustomed to tearing off the long white stick's plastic wrapper and removing the cap. Wishing she didn't feel so deceitful with what she was doing, she held the end of the stick between her legs and then finally relieved herself, her hands a little shaky as she finished up and replaced the cap.

She set it onto the counter where she couldn't see the screen, and as she washed her hands she started counting in her head, needing to wait three minutes. While she waited she tidied away the box and the wrapper, slipping it back into the drawer and then checking on Judith. It had been at Carol's suggestion that Carrie started taking her into the bathroom with her, this being the first step in preparing her to be toilet trained when she was a little older. This seemed to be a task that Carol was going to organise, much to Carrie's relief. Though she had come a long way, the intricacies of toilet training a small child was far beyond her.

When three minutes had passed she turned back to the white stick waiting on the counter, bracing herself before picking it up. The first time she had done this she'd been horribly nervous, her hands and legs shaking so hard she dropped the test into the toilet, necessitating a second attempt. Today she was less anxious, for she knew what the result would be. She questioned why she kept doing this again and again, whether she expected things to have changed. Unlike the very first time her heart didn't fall into the pit of her stomach when she saw the results, she didn't cry or burst into a panic..

 _Pregnant_ _._

Having expected this, Carrie slipped the pregnancy test back into the bathroom drawer alongside the others, and then got on with her day.

* * *

A/N Hey readers! Thanks for reading, I hope you all enjoyed! I'm sure you have some thoughts about the ending of this chapter, more on that to come next week, but be sure to leave a review and let me know what you think :-)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Just a friendly reminder that all story warnings (violence, swearing, sex, drugs, alcohol etc) apply to this story, and that I don't generally give specific warnings at the start of the chapter. Thanks, and happy reading :-)

* * *

 _When three minutes had passed she turned back to the white stick waiting on the counter, bracing herself before picking it up. The first time she had done this she'd been horribly nervous, her hands and legs shaking so hard she dropped the test into the toilet, necessitating a second attempt. Today she was less anxious, for she knew what the result would be. She questioned why she kept doing this again and again, whether she expected things to have changed. Unlike the very first time her heart didn't fall into the pit of her stomach when she saw the results, she didn't cry or burst into a panic.._

 _Pregnant._

 _Having expected this, Carrie slipped the pregnancy test back into the bathroom drawer alongside the others, and then got on with her day._

* * *

Going about her normal routine, she set out two pill containers and opened them one by one, tipping a single pill from each into the palm of her hand. Drinking from the tap she swallowed the prenatal vitamins in one mouthful, mentally checking off that morning's dose. Sometimes she missed taking them on time, distracted by Judith or unable to find the privacy to slip into Michonne's old bathroom undetected, but most of the time she remembered. Finished, she slipped her silk robe back on and then hauled Judith up onto her hip, kissing her cheek as they crept out of her future bedroom. She didn't stop to look at the other pregnancy tests, to remind herself of how many times she had peed on a stick over the last few weeks. There was no point in dwelling.

Pleased to note that Rick was still asleep and her venture had gone undetected, she silently made her way downstairs and went straight to the coffee machine. She felt a little more sympathetic to Rick's hangover now that she knew he'd been up half the night with Carl. Setting Judith down she filled the pot with coffee and set it to brew, hunting around for her preferred mug. Their kitchen was an absolute mess, dishes piled up in the sink and assorted junk cluttering the benches. With everyone preferring to spend their time with one another rather than tidying, they were content to leave it for the morning, as was Carrie. She had no doubt that in a few hours a couple of people would come around to help them tidy up, that she wouldn't be left to do it alone.

"Do you want oatmeal or toast for breakfast?" she asked Judith, beginning to smell the delicious aroma of fresh coffee.

"Oatmeal," she stated clearly, already standing in front of the pantry. "P'ease."

"Get your bowl then…your bowl, Judy. Get your bowl."

"No," she protested, rushing over and showing Carrie the plate she had chosen. "'Dis one."

"You need a bowl for oatmeal," she explained patiently, washing and drying her favourite coffee mug. "Oatmeal goes in a bowl."

When Judith finally complied and returned to the cupboard to find her bowl, Carrie took a moment to celebrate the small win, pleased with herself. While Judith waited patiently she fixed her some breakfast and then set it aside to cool while she cooked herself some toast. Navigating around the mess she listened to the slight sound of movement she could hear from upstairs. As she added honey to her toast she listened to the sound of Daryl's light footsteps as he descended the stairs, and moments later he appeared in the living room.

"Mornin'," he grunted, dumping his belongings by the island counter.

When he noticed Judith standing in the kitchen he went back and picked up his crossbow, setting it onto the dining room table out of her reach. At this Carrie glanced over at the crossbow, one that had taken him weeks to fix and fine tune after she had used it to beat Pete to death. Most of the time it gave her a small kick to see Daryl toting it around again, a small jolt of satisfaction that she had killed Pete, but days like today she felt nothing.

"What's that you got on there?" he asked, peering over her shoulder at her plate.

"Honey," she replied, knowing what he was about to do.

"Hmm, thanks." Without apology he took it from from her plate and then turned away.

Putting another piece of bread into the toaster, she watched sadly as Daryl picked up his pack and swung it over his shoulder. Though normally they didn't insist on long goodbyes, today Carrie felt the need for it, and so she cleared her throat and looked at him expectantly. Getting the hint he turned on his heel and came back to her, affording her a rough kiss on the cheek before giving Judith the same.

"Bye Ass Kicker," he said, waving to her. "Be good."

"Be safe out there," Carrie reminded him. "We love you."

He grunted his usual response, and then without any further fuss he departed, his stolen piece of toast hanging from his teeth as he walked out the front door. Like every other time Carrie was sad to see him go, and not just because she would miss him and worry. Every time he left to go recruiting it was like Rick's blood pressure rose just a little, his worry increased and his patience shortened. Carl had a similar reaction, he too worried that Daryl might never return to them.

"Here's your bowl," Carrie instructed, passing Judith the bowl of oatmeal that had been cooling.

"Outside?" she asked, already walking towards the front door.

Taking her plate of toast and mug of freshly brewed coffee, Carrie hastily followed Judith out onto the front porch, the pleasant glow of daylight already making itself known. When she cleared away the left over mess from the coffee table Judith set her bowl down and started to eat, while Carrie sank into the rocking chair with a long sigh. As the first sip of coffee passed her lips she felt her worries beginning to ease a little, the sweet taste of the sugar and caffeine invigorating her. Feeling content she settled back and gave the rocking chair a gentle push from the ground, enjoying the way it slowly rocked.

The possibility that she might be pregnant hadn't occurred until roughly five weeks ago, the day Alexandria celebrated Christmas in July. At first she had blamed her nausea on a stomach flu that didn't quite abate, one that had already made the rounds of the community. But as she sat down to dinner with her family, over a dozen of them crammed into the second house to celebrate the occasion, it suddenly occurred to her that she had missed her period. While it shouldn't be unusual given her erratic cycle, the realisation saw her rooted to the chair, struggling to make small talk while she contemplated the delicious meal in front of her suddenly didn't look so appealing. That night she lay awake in bed, listening to the soft snores of Rick sleeping soundly beside her. She counted the dates again and again, trying to find some explanation for her absent period.

But as Rick sighed and rolled over, his warm body pressed up against hers while he slept, she remembered the day they slipped away from the Father's Day celebrations the previous month. They'd sought privacy so that they could reconnect after their brief separation, and nothing was going to stop them sleeping together, not even the condoms she had forgotten to restock. Caught up in the moment they barely gave it a second thought, simply deciding to take the risk while the consequences barely crossed their mind. Later when Carrie had found her wits she had reminded herself to visit Denise, to ask for the morning after pill which would abate the risk they had taken. She had every intention of getting that pill…at least until Pete had attacked her.

It was understandable of course, for even as she herself began recovering her attention was on Carl, on the life changing injury he had sustained. In the chaos of it all, the fact she and Rick had unprotected sex didn't cross her mind, not even once. Judging by the fact that he hadn't said anything, it hadn't crossed his mind either. In the weeks that followed, their focus and attention had been on him, and then slowly they settled into family life.

The morning after they celebrated Christmas Carrie had set her focus on taking a pregnancy test, sick and tired of counting the dates of her cycle and coming to only one conclusion. But she was delayed, her fear of the actual answer deterring her from going to Denise and instead encouraging her to carry this burden alone. She bided her time and waited until Denise was out of the Infirmary, the extended wait making her nervous and short tempered. But when she finally got her hands on that small cardboard box she felt a short lived relief.

She waited for Judith to go down for her nap that afternoon, and with Carl in his room and Rick out on watch, she nervously took the test. It took her two attempts, her nerves making her drop the first one into the toilet bowl, but when the second one came back positive she was certain she passed out just a little. It felt completely surreal seeing that single word printed onto the side of the test, its absolute finality leaving no room for doubt. Every fibre in her body told her to go running to Rick and tell him to fix it, to make it alright again, but she couldn't move. She wanted to scream, and when she started to cry she pressed her hand over her mouth, stifling the sound so that no one heard her. Already she was doing everything she could to keep this a secret, for although her first instinct was to go running to Rick for help, she wasn't ready to face it.

In the days that followed she felt like she was walking on a knife's edge, and there was no doubt that her family had noticed a change in her behaviour. They seemed to skirt around her with caution, even Daryl who had muttered something under his breath to Carl about PMS and cutting her a break. Her only saving grace in those first few days was the fact that Carol had already moved out of their home and into a quaint cottage with Tobin. Had she been around, Carrie was certain that she would have deduced what the problem was, that somehow she would have gotten it out of her. Perhaps it would have been a good thing, for Carrie knew that if Carol had confronted her about what was wrong she would have confessed everything, that it would have come pouring out of her without a second thought. Even now after having known for over a month, she still felt the need to go to Carol with this, to ask her to make everything alright again. Carol had been like her rock in the first few weeks after Pete's attack, and she had hidden how much it pained her when she moved in with Tobin.

But even in the midst of digesting the news of her pregnancy, Carrie knew that it would be wrong of her to go to Carol, no matter how close they were. Rick deserved to be told first. They'd made a renewed commitment to their relationship, to building a family together. He was meant to be her partner in all of this, and he was the father…this was his baby too. It was the thought of an actual baby that terrified her the most, the idea of a living, breathing being that depended solely on her for its life. It was this notion that also made her feel so ashamed of the type of thoughts she had harboured in the days and weeks that followed the first pregnancy test. She had prayed that the problem would just take care of itself, that she would simply have a miscarriage and it would all be over.

It was these thoughts that tormented her, that made her feel even worse about the situation. How cruel and inhumane did it make her to pray for her pregnancy to end in a miscarriage? Certainly she wasn't deserving of this pregnancy, she didn't deserve anything if she harboured that type of prayer. Her shame only grew as the thoughts continued, paranoid that somehow Rick would find out what she had hoped for, that he would be disgusted with her. She didn't know what to think, already feeling so frightened and scared by what she was facing.

That was the other side of her feelings towards the matter, for even in the shameful moments she hoped for a miscarriage, she was also afraid of having one. She'd suffered a miscarriage before, and though she was scared of what this unplanned pregnancy meant, she was terrified of that happening again. Her pregnancy to Logan hadn't been ideal, having only learned of it the week before deciding to file for divorce. But in spite of how ill-timed it was and how it could set her career back, she had been excited. Her mother had come to her prenatal scan with her, she put the print out of the small blob into her purse and started shopping at Macy's, spending thousands on tiny clothing that seemed too small…and then it was all taken from her.

Was that why she hadn't told Rick yet, even though she'd known for over a month? Was she trying to spare him the heartbreak of suffering a miscarriage?

Understanding that she wasn't yet ready to face this reality by telling another person, regardless of who, Carrie set about getting organised. Even as the shock and fear took hold of her, she knew what she needed to do next. She set her mind to finding some prenatal vitamins, so even while the cruel part of her was hoping for a miscarriage she was already taking care of her baby. Going undetected yet again she made her way into the Infirmary when she knew Denise wasn't around, knowing where the prenatal vitamins were kept, but when she found them in the cupboard she realised with a sinking heart that she couldn't steal them. Medical supplies were meticulously catalogued, perhaps Pete's only good quality. At the time Maggie was thirty five weeks pregnant, and the ration plan for her prenatal vitamins had been set out. Denise knew exactly how many pills they had, and how long they would be set to last for Maggie.

It was at this stage that she again faced the choice of telling someone, mere hours after finding out and instantly deciding she wanted to keep this to herself. She knew that she could tell Denise, that she took confidentiality seriously and would maintain her secret, even from Rick, but still Carrie wasn't ready to confront the issue. Previously she had been seeing Denise routinely, the two of them sharing a pot of coffee as they talked about what had happened to her, about Carl and Pete. But from that day Carrie stopped going to see her, fearing that just like with Carol she would confess everything. But her desire to keep things a secret wasn't going to hold her back from getting the minimal prenatal care she needed, and so she had no other option but to rejoin the run crew.

In hindsight it had been a bad idea. While finding a generous supply of prenatal vitamins and stashing them in her pack wasn't hard, there was no doubt in Carrie's mind that Rick was right. She had rejoined the run crew before she was really ready to, though he thought she had only gone on the first run to go to Jessie's house. The fact that the run crew were going to Forest Hill was just a convenient factor, something she was able to use as her outward motivation. As far as she knew, none of them had noticed her slipping the pills into her pack, though perhaps it seemed Lana was a little more observant of her morning sickness than Carrie would have liked.

"Ummm, more?" Judith said, bringing the her bowl of oatmeal over.

Understanding what she meant, that it wasn't a request for another serving, Carrie took her spoon and carefully scraped the sides of the bowl. Judith whispered her thanks as she took the bowl back and set it onto the coffee table again. She happily resumed eating, having as much as she could get onto her spoon before bringing it over to Carrie again. It was a familiar and easy routine, for after ten weeks of living as a family she knew all of Judith's cues, she knew how to read her expressions and body language, how to interpret the words she said. Scraping what was left for a second time, she spoon fed her the last mouthful and then set the bowl aside. Having learnt to be fully prepared she picked up the damp cloth she had brought out with her and began wiping Judith's hands and face, cleaning her up before allowing her to climb up into her lap.

"Was that a good breakfast?" she asked, making conversation. She loved talking to her little girl, enjoying the back and forth exchanges. Though by now she should be used to it, she was amazed to see how much Judith actually understood, and the way she was learning to communicate more and more every day.

"Nice," Judith nodded, peering at Carrie's empty plate.

Satisfied there was nothing left over for her to eat, Judith scurried back inside before returning with some of her books, clumsily passing them to Carrie before reaching up for her. Often looking forward to these moments she helped her up and then settled her into her lap, and when she noticed the gooseflesh on her arms she opened her robe and engulfed her in it. Happy and content, Judith snuggled up with her duck under one arm and her head resting on Carrie's chest, waiting expectantly for her to start reading.

"No," Judith said urgently, reaching out to push away the first book selected. She pointed to the other one, trying to communicate what she wanted.

"Please?"

"P'ease."

Selecting the preferred book, Carrie sighed when she read the title, feeling that perhaps 'There's Going to be a Baby' was a little too close to home right now. Glenn had found this book on one of the last supply runs he made before stepping back, figuring it would be good to prepare Judith for the impending birth of Herschel. She had fascinated by Maggie's growing belly and the sensation of the baby kicking, and she was often wanting to touch her, still trying to understand what was going to happen. She'd taken an immediate liking to Herschel, aside from when he cried that was, and having read this book every day for the last month perhaps had something to do with that. Thoroughly sick and tired of reading it, in particular the not so subtle reminders it brought with it, Carrie was greatly reluctant when she opened the book and began to read. Like every time, Judith listened attentively, sitting up and reaching forward to turn the pages.

As they read together and Carrie successfully managed to convince her to read something else too, she dwelled on the fact that she was running out of time. What at first had been a preference to digest the news of her pregnancy alone had now turned into a secret, one that she ought to have shared with Rick by now. Though she wasn't exactly sure of how to date a pregnancy, she figured she was ten weeks along by now, having counted back to the day when she and Rick had sex. _Conceived on Fathers' Day. How appropriate_ _._ While she had allowed herself time to digest the news, and had taken more pregnancy tests than necessary, the time had come to share the news.

Perhaps she was coming to terms with it now, feeling a little more prepared to handle his reaction, whatever it may be. She'd had her opportunity to process this news, and soon it was going to be his turn, though she already suspected how he would take it. Once he got over the shock he would tell her that it was going to be alright, he would offer any blind reassurance necessary to make them both feel better. But it wasn't only Rick she needed to consider going forward, she had to keep Carl in mind too. Once she told Rick about the baby the majority attention would be on that, diverted from Carl. On one hand perhaps that was a good thing, the change of focus might be what Carl needed to push himself a little more back into his normal life. Or maybe it would be hard on him, maybe he still needed Rick's attention and focus for longer. Even a few months later Carl was still not himself, even accounting for his poorly health…he still needed his dad's time and attention, or so Carrie felt.

When Judith climbed down from her lap and went back inside to fetch some different books, Carrie took a deep breath and then looked down at her body, taking into account the changes it was already going through. Her breasts didn't feel larger, but they sure as hell felt tender to the touch, their weight heavier without a bra to support them. But it was her stomach that worried her the most, for although she still maintained her slim physique, her lower abdomen did indeed seem a little…round. She wasn't sure if she was seeing a swollen belly because it was truly that way or because she was expecting it to be, though she was certain that her jeans felt uncomfortably tight on the supply run yesterday. Thankfully at this stage any changes in her body seemed to have gone unnoticed by anyone but her, and her clothes would hide any evidence with ease. Even Rick, who she knew had intimate knowledge of her body hadn't appeared to notice anything different…if he had, then he hadn't said anything.

The sun had fully risen by the time she heard movement from the other occupants of their household, and judging by the two sets of footsteps it was both Rick and Carl awake. There was muted conversation from the kitchen, and then it was a little after six thirty when Rick slowly made his way out onto the front porch, shuffling his feet as he walked.

"Good morning," he said softly. Squinting against the sunlight, he wearily made his way over to the rocking chair and then leant down, pressing a kiss to her forehead before giving the same to Judith. "Do you want a top up?" he offered, gesturing to her empty coffee mug.

"No, thank you." As he sipped at his own coffee and then slumped down into the love seat, she briefly wondered if he would suggest she switch to decaf when she told him about the baby. That suggestion would be politely declined. "Carl's awake?"

"Yeah," he muttered, watching as Judith squirmed off her lap and raced inside to greet her brother. "He's feeling better."

"He still looked a bit clammy," she worried out loud.

Rick shrugged his shoulders, though not without concern. "He's in there making himself breakfast, he seems alright." He looked over at her now, his eyes still squinting against the sunlight. "Come sit with me."

Liking his suggestion, Carrie stood up and then happily sat beside him, stretching her legs across his lap. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, reminding her of the tough night he and Carl had. Knowing he wouldn't slow down today, though she wished he would, she brushed her hand through his curls and then kissed him. Noting that he had brushed his teeth already she afforded him another kiss, deepening it as she tasted the coffee he was drinking. They shared an affectionate smile before getting comfortable, Rick sipping at his coffee and looking out across the community that was their family home. On mornings like this it was easy to pretend that the world outside the walls didn't exist, that everything was perfectly normal.

With her arm comfortably resting behind his shoulder, Carrie absentmindedly ran her fingers through his curls, liking the way he tilted his head back into her hand. She watched as his eyes darted towards the walls as he sat in silence, reminding her of how he was becoming increasingly stir crazy. Occasionally he went outside and made rounds with the others, the task having been resumed now that the Wolves seemed to have fallen off the radar, and occasionally he helped check on the safe houses. But she knew that this was only just enough to keep him satisfied, that getting out every now and then was only making his sense of claustrophobia worse. These days Carl needed Rick less and less, but his constant presence at home had became a much welcomed routine, one that reminded them of the unintentional neglect of months previous. Nevertheless, despite how good it was having him at home Carrie knew that Rick needed to get out more. He needed something to focus on, he needed to feel like he was actively doing something for the community.

Having finally reached the stage in which she felt confident enough to tell him about the pregnancy, the only thing left to decide was when and how. Ideally she would tell him when they were alone, when there was the time and privacy for him to comprehend the news however he needed to. It had to be when Carl was at school during the afternoon, the few hours in which Judith would be resting. With Daryl away recruiting they would have the entire house to themselves. But today Rick had watch in the afternoon…she could arrange someone to take his shift for him, but that felt strangely forced. She knew that Monday afternoon he wasn't on the roster, and besides, Friday's were always a little tricky with Carl. He usually let out as early as three o'clock if Shelly was teaching, his arrival home usually coming unexpectedly. One time he had almost caught Rick and Carrie in a rather compromising position in the kitchen, a day they only just managed to get their clothes back on by the time he took his shoes off and removed his gun holster. With that in mind, she ought not risk telling Rick today, not when Carl was likely to come early and unannounced.

Monday was her next certain opportunity, and it wouldn't take much to ensure Sasha didn't add Rick to the watch rotation if they were short sometime. Maybe even tomorrow or Sunday would work. Lately Carl had finally started going out a bit more, hanging out at Enid or Mikey's place…it was highly unusual for him to come too quickly when he was having a good time with his friends. Sitting there with her fingers trailing through Rick's hair she wondered if it was really that easy, if the opportunity to tell him would present itself without further delay. Dwelling on this, she knew that finding the time wasn't going to be the hardest part, that would be actually telling him the words _I'm pregnant._ Nevertheless she felt ready, reluctant to put it off any longer than she already had.

"What's on the agenda today?" she enquired, making conversation though she knew the answer.

He was slow to answer, having been deep in thought. "I've got watch at midday, and Carl needs his bandage changed." Absentmindedly he began running his hand up her leg, his fingers circling a bruise on her knee. "I'll help clean up here and then take him to Denise."

"Don't worry about this mess, the others will come around to help. Take Carl to Denise."

"Mmmm, later," he muttered, apparently in no rush. "What about you? What are you up to today?"

She shrugged, unsure of what she had in mind. Once Rick and Carl both left for watch and school it would just be her and Judith, and though she loved spending time with her, she had to admit that sometimes it was a little dull. There was only so much time you could fill with reading books and taking walks. As she sat there with Rick's hand running up and down her leg, a rather more pleasant idea came to mind, one she knew he would be partial to. It was certainly a good way to start the day, and the more she thought about it the better her idea sounded. Feeling amorous, she reached up and stroked his jaw, enjoying the way his stubble scraped against her fingertips. As they started to kiss she took his hand and encouraged it a little higher up her leg, parting her robe ever so slightly, and it was all he needed to know what she was getting at.

"What do you think, huh?"

"I think…" he began, his voice low and husky. "I think that's a great idea."

Though they had to behave themselves out on the front porch, Carrie sighed as his hand stroked the back of her thigh, his fingertips slipping under the edge of her underwear. She indulged herself for a short while, and in the back of her mind she listened to the sound of Carl and Judith in the kitchen, ascertaining that she and Rick would be able to find some uninterrupted privacy. With a sly grin she brushed her hand over the front of his sweatpants. It was nice having this moment together and so she was determined to enjoy it…there was no telling exactly how things would change after she had told him about the baby.

"I'm going to take a shower," she began teasingly, making sure he knew what she meant. Loving the way he sighed in frustration she took his hands and pushed them off, though she let them trail over her as she stood. "Follow me up in five?"

Sparing him one more kiss she made a point of not tying her robe straight away, allowing him a glimpse of what was to come. Judging by the way his eyes roved over her body her delay had the desired effect, and she grinned as she turned away and covered herself before going inside. As she crossed the living area she greeted Carl who was kindly sharing his toast with his sister, glad to see that Rick was right, he did indeed appear to look well. With the reassurance that there was no reason he couldn't adequately supervise his sister for a short while, she raced upstairs and undressed as soon as she closed the bedroom door. She dropped her robe by the end of the bed and then her tank top and underwear, leaving a trail for Rick to find when he followed her up here.

Like every other day, she pushed all thoughts of her pregnancy aside and simply got on with things.

* * *

"You're spoiling her."

Rick had been unsurprised to come into the bedroom that evening and find Judith fast asleep against Carrie's side, thumb in her mouth and her feet tucked up close. Having brushed his teeth and checked on Carl already, he happily divested himself of his duty belt and jeans, setting the holster and his Colt high up on the dresser. Proper precautions should see him securing it in the gun safe downstairs, but he had long been in the habit of keeping his gun close, to have it at the ready.

"Leave her alone, she's not feeling good," Carrie insisted, reaching down and stroking Judith's hair.

"Why's that?" he asked.

"I think you're right, that tooth is coming through. She was rubbing her cheek when I gave her a bath."

"And who needed the cuddle, huh? You or her?"

Though he teased, he knew he would have done the same thing, that he couldn't deny his children comfort when they needed it. Wanting to put her back into her crib he leant over Carrie and carefully extracted Judith from beside her, and just as he brought her up to his chest he felt Carrie's hand on his ass, her touch clearly no accident. As he straightened up he looked at her questioningly, trying not to smile.

"What was that for?"

She shrugged. "It was there, so I touched it."

Daring to hope she might be in the mood for a second time that day, Rick stroked Judith's back as she started to rouse, making sure to sway her as they made their way over to the crib. Rubbing her eyes she raised her head from his shoulder and looked around, and when she gave a wide yawn he took advantage of it by slipping his little finger into her mouth. He had just enough time to feel where the new molar had broken through her gum before she spluttered in protest, turning her head away with a disgruntled sigh. Just as he was about to reach for some numbing gel she laid her head back onto his shoulder, her eyes looking up at him as she started drifting off again.

"It's still pretty early. You want to watch Scrubs?" Carrie asked behind him. "We got season three on the supply run yesterday."

Confident she was drifting off, he lowered Judith into the crib and straightened the sheets when she turned over. If she got tangled in them the discomfort would wake her, and Rick too. "Sure. Can't be worse than Bridget Jones' Diary," he muttered.

"I heard that," Carrie said, opening the DVD case. "And you laughed yourself silly when we watched that movie."

"You noticed I fell asleep though, right? That was by choice."

She rolled her eyes at this, and as the first episode started playing they settled into the bed together, Carrie sitting up against the headboard while Rick laid down. "Behave yourself and maybe you'll get lucky tonight."

"I'll take maybe," he nodded, agreeing to behave himself.

Despite having little interest in what they were watching, for he and Carrie rarely found anything that was mutually agreeably to them both, Rick was content to lay there with her, keeping her company for a little while. It felt peaceful, and he figured he could use a little of that. Though it was no longer than usual, his shift on watch that afternoon felt particularly burdensome, making him glad that Carl had joined him for a short while. He always felt particularly restless and unsettled for the first few days after Daryl left, unconsciously adjusting to the fact that he was no longer around, that this might be the time his brother didn't come back to them.

Daryl's absence took some getting used to, particularly now that the house was less crowded with Carol and Michonne having moved out. Although Carrie often complained that she was unfairly outnumbered by Rick, Daryl and Carl, he on the other hand was quite partial to their living arrangements. At first Daryl too had entertained the idea of moving out, likely figuring he was an outsider intruding on Rick's family life, but they'd quickly managed to convince him otherwise. Much like Michonne, who despite moving out was a near constant presence around their place, Daryl was a key part of their family, particularly where Carl was concerned. Despite how hard it had been on him to do so, Daryl's mere presence and ongoing efforts had been a crucial part of Carl's recovery. Often times it didn't matter that Rick told Carl could do anything he set his mind to - but if Daryl said it then he seemed to take it on board.

Though there was a long way for him to go before feeling like himself again, Carl's self-belief and abilities were owed to Daryl. His unwavering patience and refusal to let him feel sorry for himself meant that Carl's recovery had come in leaps and bounds, his hand eye coordination having taken a massive improvement thanks to the many hours Daryl played darts with him, for the hours they spent shooting targets with the crossbow. There was still a long way to go, particularly with his firearm accuracy, but Daryl had been critical in that. It had been hard on all of them when Daryl went on his first recruiting run after the attack, but particularly so for Carl.

But they would manage in Daryl's absence, Carl still having plenty of others on who he could depend. After he finished school he and Carrie had been out on the street together, having not put to rest the debate that had started on Father's Day. Carrie's hockey set had been dug out from the mess of supplies in the shipping container, the two engaging in yet another round of one-on-one. Having early on put a stop to anyone letting him win a game just because of his injury, Carl and Carrie played for keeps, their games staying gentle enough to avoid further injury to his face, but lively enough to smash a pane in the newly erected greenhouse. Today they had been focusing on his hand eye coordination, the two of them bouncing the hockey ball on the end of the stick, seeing who could get the most hits in a row. Carrie won of course, but having been listening to them while on watch Rick was glad to hear that Carl's score was steadily improving.

Hearing the sound of Carrie laughing, he roused from his sleepy state and turned his attention back to the television, having missed most of the episode as he dozed. Noticing that she had roused him she apologised, not that he minded so much. Testing the waters, he turned onto his side and reached for her, setting his hand on her upper leg. He let it rest there for a moment, his fingers gently moving across her skin, and he was disappointed when she seemed not to notice. Nevertheless he took advantage of her inattention, and he moved his hand further up and rested it on her hip. Splaying out his fingers he tried to learn a little more about her shape, but there was little he could determine in the dark, his touch hindered by her loose tank top.

He knew that she had a lot going on right now, that the friendship breakdown with Jessie was hurting her, that she had rejoined the run crew before she was ready…but was that all? Something had changed, something was happening that made her struggle to cope with things. He had little evidence to support his theory, only coincidences and conjecture, but Rick couldn't help but wonder if she might be pregnant. Playing it over and over in his mind's eye he pictured what he had seen her doing the previous evening, the way she had tipped out a full glass of wine when she thought no one was looking.

It would have been difficult for him to miss the fact that she had stopped drinking alcohol lately, that celebrating Tequila Tuesday with Rosita or enjoying a glass of wine with dinner was no more, but until the previous night it hadn't struck him as odd. She was never wasteful, the world as it was meaning that they had to take care with the things they had, to ensure that nothing was wasted. Perhaps that was why her aversion to alcohol hadn't really aroused his attention until now. If she didn't want the glass of wine last night, why had she accepted it? Why hadn't she just given it to someone else? Michonne enjoyed Merlot, and Rosita joked she drank anything that was liquid…why hadn't she given it to one of them if she didn't want it?

Because she was hiding it.

That was about the only thing that made sense to him, that Carrie was pregnant and going to great lengths to hide it. Certain he was on to something here Rick wracked his brains to come up with an answer, searching for evidence to support his conclusion. She'd been unwell lately, but he couldn't attribute that to morning sickness, not when everyone in the community had been struck down by the stomach flu at various stages. The illness had hit Carl particularly badly on more than one occasion, and the fact that Carrie had been sick too was perfectly explainable. She was a sympathetic puker and always had been, perfectly able to face a rotting corpse but not a little vomit.

With little evidence of morning sickness he turned his thoughts elsewhere, wishing he had paid attention to her cycle, to any other signs he might have missed. That morning when they showered together was the first good look he'd had at her body in weeks, and he couldn't help but think that her stomach looked a little more filled out. Often times he missed the opportunity to catch a glimpse of her body as she dressed in the morning, and it was certainly difficult to really scrutinise her when they made love with the lights dimmed, but under the bright lights of the bathroom it was difficult to hide. After Pete's attack she had lost some weight from the stress, her hip bones had become a little more prominent, but that definitely wasn't the case any more. There was a definite softness to the shape of her body…regardless of his opinion, Rick knew better than to mention this to her. Pregnant or not, uninvited comments on the shape of her body would not be well received.

Despite firmly telling himself that he was being stupid, a part of him still wondered if just maybe she was pregnant. If she was he was certain of when it had happened, knowing the only time they'd ever taken a risk was back in June, the day Pete had attacked. In the midst of everything he had completely forgotten that they had unprotected sex, but in hindsight he figured it had been her intention to get the morning after pill. Part of him wanted to bring it up now that the possibility was on his mind, he wanted to ask if she had taken the pill amidst all the chaos, but he didn't want her to feel like she'd made a mistake if she hadn't. They had both taken that risk…if she was pregnant he wouldn't consider it to be her fault. Hell, he already had two unplanned pregnancies under his belt, he was the one who really ought to have known better.

He thought about little Herschel now, to the way the newborn had been making him feel lately. Rick knew that when the time was right he and Carrie would talk more about getting married, but he couldn't stop entertaining the idea of them starting a family together. It was a fantasy that the world was perfect and safe to bring children into. It would be a huge risk and responsibility, one that he's not sure he could convince Carrie was a good idea. Hell, he wasn't even sure himself if it was a good idea. Nevertheless he couldn't get the idea out of his head, the image of her pregnant with his child stuck in his mind's eye. She was a wonderful mother to Judith, and she would be a wonderful mother to a child of their own.

But despite his desires, he knew that it was just a fantasy. Fifteen years ago he and Lori worried about the world they were bringing Carl into…the world today was infinitely crueller and more vicious. Dwelling on this, it was inevitable he start thinking about the knowledge that Alexandria was not alone in this world. Though they had always anticipated that there were other groups around, likely those better organised and more well off than their own, it was confronting to actually connect with one of them. The two people the supply run had met the day before, Richard and Dianne…they represented both opportunity and danger.

Though he had taken into consideration Carrie's reservations, Rick was entertaining the idea of going to the meeting that Lana had arranged. Regardless of how things went, these people were bringing antibiotics, the type that sooner or later Carl was going to need again. The soft tissue infection in his eye socket was constantly recurring, and there was no prospect of no longer needing the antibiotics for him. If this meeting went well, if these people and their community were trustworthy, it was a huge opportunity for Alexandria's future. If they were transparent, trustworthy, not out for blood or to take advantage of them. That was a lot of _ifs_.

Earlier that afternoon Abraham had joined him on watch, the two of them had talked over some ideas and strategies, and had come up with what felt like a safe approach, one that would give them the advantage. There would need to be more discussion, the type that involved Deanna and then the wider community too…this was a risk they were all taking. It felt strange that Rick was even thinking about this, that he was mulling over the opportunity to connect with another group of survivors. He hadn't carried this weight of responsibility since before Carl's injury, when he had stepped back from being a leader and focused on being a father. Nevertheless he knew that stepping back couldn't last forever, that this was a problem he couldn't avoid. He needed to be involved in this decision, and he needed to follow through on whatever decision was reached.

When he came home that evening he had made a point of not bringing up the subject with Carrie, aware of how she felt about it. She wasn't going to like any of their plans, preferring to be conservative in their approach to other groups, to maintain a low profile. While he understood the root of her apprehension, he felt it necessary to disagree with her. Alexandria couldn't maintain a low profile forever, particularly with the way their supply runs were branching out further away from Washington. Sooner or later they were going to start running into more groups…the more that happened on their own terms, the better.

"Rick?"

"Mmm?" he muttered, opening his eyes at the sound of Carrie's voice.

The television had reverted back to the DVD's menu, the episode having concluded as Rick dozed, but he was wide awake now. Carrie was stretching herself out beside him, her tank top having made a much welcomed disappearance. Catching up and remembering what he had dared to hope for, he quickly started to pay attention. She kissed him languidly, one hand bringing his to her breast while the other reached down to the front of his sweats. As they kissed she started stroking him, her hand roaming his body at leisure.

"You thought I changed my mind," she smiled coyly, having noticed his hand on her leg after all.

"Well, your attention was otherwise occupied."

"You know how I love the Janitor," she said, teasing him as he pushed his sweats off and moved on top of her. "He's got that sexy handyman vibe."

"Remind me to get a mop and bucket some time."

They kissed as she welcomed him between her legs, pressing himself against her underwear while he stroked her breast. "And the coveralls," she sighed, grinning at his expression. "Don't forget the coveralls."

"Coveralls, mop and bucket. Done."

Thoroughly pleased, Carrie indulged him in a sensual kiss, encouraging him to continue rocking against her. With great ease every worry he felt right now left his mind, his attention focused solely on the moment, on the two of them being together. All thoughts of pregnancy and other communities vanished when she soon pushed at his shoulders, making him get off of her. She sat up and then ditched her underwear, grinning as she tossed them over her shoulder before straddling him. They shared another kiss, his hips moving as he dwelled on what he wanted from her, on where exactly he hoped she might focus some attention. Getting the hint, she whispered a dirty remark into his ear before shuffling down his body, the type of remark that would linger in his head for days.

Making a last minute check that Judith was fast asleep, Rick propped himself up on his elbows and watched as Carrie worked him over with her mouth and hands, uttering words of gratitude and praise. Soon enough his head fell back while his eyes fluttered closed, making a conscious effort to keep his voice down, paranoid that Carl might still be awake. He let his mind wander, wondering how she wanted to have sex that night, if she would take control by getting on top of him, or if they'd go torturously slow. So caught up was he that it was only at the last minute he heard the footsteps in the hallway outside the bedroom, and he had just ushered Carrie to stop when the bedroom door flew open.

"Dammit, Carl!" he yelled angrily, diving for the bedsheets as Carrie too shouted in dismay. "I told you to - Daryl?"

In the midst of his anger he felt a flicker of relief, not only glad that it wasn't his son catching them in the act, but that Daryl standing in his doorway meant that he was home safely. As Carrie scrambled to sit behind him for privacy he pulled the bedsheets up and passed some to her, and they looked at Daryl in dismay.

"Fuck, sorry man," he was cursing, having hastily turned away when he realised what he intruded on.

"I told you to knock," Aaron admonished, standing out in the hallway with his arms folded and his back turned. "Sorry, Rick."

"What the hell?" Rick demanded, looking at them expectantly. "Daryl!"

"Yeah, what the hell?" Carrie piped up.

"Nice to see you too, Blondie."

Rick checked to make sure Carrie was covered, and then cleared his throat expectantly. "You can turn around."

While Aaron lingered out in the hallway Daryl tentatively looked over his shoulder, and when he turned he kept his gaze lowered for Carrie's sake. "We uh…we got a problem."

"A problem that couldn't wait until morning?" Rick questioned angrily.

Daryl shrugged and then he raised his head, looking Rick in the eye. "I reckon a couple thousand Walkers is worth interruptin' you for."

* * *

A/N Hi readers - thanks for the great reviews, I love reading them. I like responding to reviews but can only do that if you're logged in - if you'd like me to reply to your review make sure you're logged in with you leave it. If not, anonymous reviews are still welcome and appreciated :-) Thanks to all.

A slow chapter, but things will be heating up now :-)


	6. Chapter 6

Saturday August 30

The following morning Carrie awoke before dawn, both surprised and pleased that Rick was rousing her to get dressed. Being honest with herself she had expected him to ask her to stay back, to try and minimise her time spent outside the walls. She wouldn't blame him if he had tried, not after the talk they'd had the other day when she confessed she wasn't ready for the run crew, but that morning he had simply asked if she intended to come. Grateful for his consideration, Carrie hauled herself out of bed and dressed, and she waited only until Rick had roused Carl and explained the situation to him before they left hand in hand. After a hurried meeting with their group and Deanna, Rick and Carrie had spent the night laying awake in bed, dreading what they were going to find in the morning.

What they faced at the quarry was overwhelming in magnitude, the prospect of it all rendering most of them silent for the longest time. They spent hours there that morning, the dust and stench settling onto their skin as they circled the cliff tops, learning as much as they could about the threat. It seemed that Alexandria was unbelievably lucky, for not only had this quarry protected them from more Walkers roaming the woods that surrounded them, but it hadn't imploded on itself yet. Judging by the semi-trailer blocking one of the exits, the ground ominously crumbling beneath the tyres, they didn't have long to come up with a solution. Various options had been put forth, the group tossing around strategies to build up the weak spots or set the whole thing on fire, but there was only one strategy that was the least objectionable long term…it just happened to be the most dangerous.

"This is your expertise, Carrie," Rick had told her, seeking her opinion. "You've handled herds like this twice before. What do you think?"

Digging the toe of her boot into the dirt, Carrie folded her arms across her chest before addressing the group as a whole. "I think our best option is to let them out."

There was no better alternative than to evacuate the quarry, to get the Walkers out and control the direction in which they went. They couldn't risk the chance of them breaking out and spreading in all directions, particularly given the hillsides would direct them straight back to Alexandria. Getting Walkers to move uphill rather than the path of least resistance was difficult, but not impossible. Despite the risks presented, Carrie was confident that this was something the community could handle…if she could do this type of thing alone, then Alexandria could sure as hell do it working together.

The finer details of their plan could be hammered out at a later time, but for now the community needed to be brought up to speed, which was what compelled them all to gather in Gabriel's church, the only building large enough to accomodate them all. Having returned home and requested Deanna summon the community for a meeting in promptly one hour, Carrie and Rick went home and showered, the two of them standing side by side in the double shower stall of their en suite. Unlike the day or night before there was no light hearted fooling around, no laughter or affection. Instead they showered in silence, Rick finishing up first and then leaving to redress.

Having kept her back turned so that he couldn't see the shape of her lower belly, which today seemed particularly bloated, Carrie resigned herself to the change that was coming over the man she loved. It couldn't last forever, she had known that, but having Rick step back from leadership to be with his family had been wonderful. Things were better than ever in their relationship, and though they had many struggles to face in the future, Carl was thriving with his dad around so often. But that was over now…it had to be. Just as they had always anticipated, the need for Rick to resume his role as the leader had come back, and he had no choice but to take it up again. Though it was never going to be convenient, the change had come at a particularly awkward time for Carrie, having just found the nerve to tell him that she was pregnant. Despite having found the nerve however, she knew that this news was going to have to wait. Rick needed to focus his attention on the Walkers, on making sure everything went as smoothly as possible.

Unlike it was during his church services, this afternoon the pews of Gabriel's church were fully occupied, any adult not on watch being in attendance. The atmosphere was one of uncertainty and fear, the normal chatter of people and families almost silent today. As she came into the church, and passed Judith over to Carl, Carrie had unfortunately come face to face with Nicholas. To their mutual relief the encounter was over quickly, he and Paula quickly averting their eyes before slipping into a nearby pew with Mikey, but it was enough to infuriate her, to make her mood plummet even further. Nicholas made an appearance in the community every now and then, occasionally taking watch from the east post, but he at least had enough sense to not approach Carrie or Glenn.

With Carl and Judith taking their seats at the front, Carrie took a deep breath before deciding that she wanted to stand rather than sit, and so she made her way towards the side door where Daryl was. He stood with his arm reaching outside the church, always a surprisingly considerate smoker, and like her his demeanour was rather sour. She suspected what had gotten up his nose, that finding the herd on the first day of his recruiting mission meant he and Aaron hadn't been able to find any survivors. Though she no longer shared his charitable inclination to find people, she was disappointed on his behalf.

The meeting started off well enough, Rick hastening to clarify rumours by explaining the situation without preamble. The Alexandrian's hung on to every word he said, listening to the leader who only a few months ago they had feared, had accused of being unbalanced and dangerous. Times had changed of course, and with Pete's attack and Carl's injury people seemed to look upon Rick as some kind of martyr, the lone man who saw Pete for what he was and who suffered the consequences. Their trust in him seemed to be unshakable, though the next few weeks were going to really put that to the test.

"There was a camp at the bottom," Heath was explaining, standing up in his pew. "The people there must have blocked the exits with those trucks back when things started to go bad. They didn't make it, they were all Roamers. Maybe a dozen of them."

"No one's been back since?" Maggie enquired. Standing at the back of the church she held Herschel against her shoulder, swaying as she rubbed his back to elicit a burp.

Heath shook his head. "Every town worth scavenging, they're all in the other direction. And I never really felt like having a picnic next to the camp that ate itself."

"So all the while the Walkers have been drawn by the sound," Michonne added. She stood at the front of the church by Rick's side. "They're making more sound and they're drawing more in."

"And here we are," Rick said heavily, his tone conveying the magnitude of what they were facing. "Now what I'm proposing, I know it sounds risky, but Walkers are already slippin' through the exits. One of the trucks keeping the Walkers in could go off the edge any day now, maybe after one more hard rain. That exit sends them _east_. All of them, right at us."

As he spoke Carrie looked around at the worried faces, glad to see that they were hanging on to his every word, listening attentively. Though the Alexandrian's had come a very long way in the months since her arrival here, having accepted the need to be trained and carry weapons on their person, their understanding of the world was still limited. Unlike her, they had no idea the magnitude of what they were facing. As she looked around she settled her gaze on Jessie, wishing that her old friend would look up, that she would make eye contact with her. Ever since she had come into the church she had avoided Carrie, keeping her eyes averted as she took her seat next to Erin. Jessie's avoidance still hurt as much as it had for the last three months, as did the way she sat with Erin. While Erin and the others had stayed uninvolved with the falling out between Jessie and Carrie, it still sometimes hurt for Carrie to see them with Jessie. It made no sense, she'd never been close friends with the other women. It shouldn't bother her to see them with Jessie, and yet it only added to the loneliness and isolation she had brought upon herself recently.

"This isn't about if it gives, its when. It's gonna happen. That's why we have to do this soon."

"This is…I don't even have another word for it…" Carol began, looking around tentatively. "This is terrifying. All of it…but it doesn't sound like there's any other way."

Ever amused by the meek role that Carol continued to play, Carrie looked at Tobin who sat on Carol's right. They had been together for almost two months now, and though Carol hadn't outwardly changed the way she presented herself, Carrie suspected that he knew exactly what she was capable of.

"Maybe there is."

Her hackles raised already, Carrie's mouth twisted into a grimace at the sound of Lana's voice. She found her standing to her feet in the fourth pew, clearing her throat as she prepared to address the meeting, but it was then that Carrie's grimace turned into a smirk. Lana looked worried, her shoulders hunched and her brow furrowed. It was satisfying to see her perfect face taut with fear.

"Couldn't we just build up the weak spots?" she suggested, looking around for supporters. "We can try and make it safe."

Carrie swiftly corrected her. "Even if we could, the sound of those Walkers is drawing more and more every day. Building up the exits won't change that," she concluded bluntly.

"There has to be another way."

Knowing she shouldn't feel so pleased that Lana was obviously scared, Carrie bit her tongue, holding back the condescension that would so easily slip out of her mouth. To her relief it was someone else who spoke up now, Deanna.

"We're going to do what Rick and Carrie say," Deanna said confidently, standing on Rick's left. "The plan they've laid out."

There was an awkward pause, the occupants of the church looking between Lana and Rick. Her fear was not without impact, particularly on a group of very scared people. Finally Rick broke the silence, and as he began speaking again Lana resumed her seat, though she didn't seem satisfied.

"I told you all, we're going to have Daryl leading them away," he recounted, working on reassurances.

"Me too," Sasha spoke up. "I'll take a car, ride next to him. It can't just be him. I'll keep 'em coming, Daryl keep's 'em from getting sloppy."

"I'll go with her," Abraham grunted, looking at her and then to Rick. "It's a long way to white knuckle it solo."

Rick glanced over at Carrie, seeking her approval which she gave with a short nod. The finer details of the plan would be decided on by the group as a whole, but overall this was her plan, this was her expertise.

"Alright, we'll have two teams. One each side of the forrest, helping manage this thing. While we're handling this we're going to need to rearrange our watch schedule. Rosita, you handle Sasha's role, take point from here. So Rosita's out…who's in?"

"Me," Michonne said without hesitation.

"Same," Carrie added.

With the first two volunteers speaking up, a low murmur of swept around the church. Ever critical, Carrie looked at Lana expectantly, both surprised and annoyed when she didn't volunteer. Dislike aside, Lana could more than handle herself in the world outside the walls, she would have been one of the better volunteers to have on board. But like before her fears seemed not to have abated, and she was whispering vehemently to Sonja and Vetor. Watching them, Carrie cast her eyes out over the other people in Lana's group, noting that they weren't volunteering either. She turned back to Lana now, waiting expectantly for her to volunteer.

"I'm in," Glenn volunteered, his words echoed by Tara and Carter.

"I'd like to help as well."

Carrie whirled around, the sound of Nicholas' voice hitting her like a punch to the chest. In an instant she folded her arms and looked him in the eye. "No."

Apparently in agreement, Rick nodded his head. "Who else?" he asked, looking around expectantly. "We need more."

"Just, wait," Lana said urgently, cutting off Heath who was raising his hand to volunteer. She got to her feet a second time, looking appalled that people were volunteering. "There's gotta be another play. We can't just control that many!"

"We said it before," Carrie said bluntly. "Walkers herd up, they'll follow a path if something's drawing them. That's how we get them all at once."

Taking note of her impatience, Lana narrowed her eyes and squared her shoulders, her response making Carrie do the same. A few moments passed in silence, the whole room collectively holding their breath as they waited for one of them to speak.

"So, what?" Lana shrugged. "We're supposed to just take your word for it?"

"I've done this before."

Lana gave an incredulous laugh and then looked around, turning her attention to Rick and Deanna next. "Is she serious?"

"What the fuck is your problem?" Carrie questioned, cutting off Rick when he started to speak. Infuriated, she started forward a few steps, prepared for a show down.

"You are my problem." There was another pause, and it seemed Lana wasn't done yet. As she spoke she looked around at the rest of the people as if rallying them to support her, to listen to her claims. "We're all supposed to just fall in line behind you, after…" she trailed off awkwardly.

Carrie's face fell, her hands beginning to shake. She knew exactly what Lana was getting at. "After what?"

Taking a breath, it seemed Lana was carefully choosing her words. "Look, I know whatever that bloke did to you has fucked with your head, and that's not your fault. But I'm not letting my people follow your lead."

A hushed gasp swept through the room, every resident there knowing exactly what Lana referred to. In the front pew Abraham sat forward a little, a softly muttered "Easy now," imploring Carrie to let it go, to not rise to the argument.

"You have a problem following my lead?"

"Yeah, I do. You were completely unhinged on the last supply run. You turned your gun on me, you nearly screwed up a valuable connection, and because of you we had to wrap up early." She paused for a moment and then turned to Rick, addressing him now. "I can support your strategy after we've exhausted all other options…but you won't have my group's help if she's involved."

As the church waited with bated breath, all eyes on Carrie and Rick, she looked at him expectantly. There was no doubt in her mind where his loyalties ought to lie…there was only one acceptable response Rick could make.

Steeling himself, Rick cast his eyes out over the rest of the church. "Who else?" he asked, completely ignoring the exchange between Lana and Carrie.

"I'll do it," Heath said, raising his hand again.

"Me too," said Francine.

As atmosphere in the church began to improve, a sense of hope and positivity sweeping the occupants, Carrie clenched her fists and took a step back, resuming her place next to Daryl. Despite the influx of volunteers who apparently took no issue with following her lead, Carrie was still infuriated. Her affect was already low as they came into the church, the pressure of the quarry herd already getting to her, but now her mood had taken a swift nose dive. Rick should have defended her, he should have told Lana and her group to go and fuck themselves…though perhaps that was a little dramatic for the community's leader to say. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, resenting that he had been forced to resume his role as leader, that he couldn't blindly take her side without consequence.

"Whatever you need," Tobin said, other members of the construction crew vocalising their agreement. "We're in."

While Glenn scrawled names down on a list a flurry of discord erupted in the fourth pew, everyone turning their attention to Lana, Sonja and Vetor. Stuck in the middle Sonja seemed to be trying to talk them down, yet the volume of their argument began to escalate quickly. From the front Carrie watched them in great interest, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction that Lana was having a hard time of this, that she was so scared. She had been there with them that morning, and for once she had been rendered speechless by what she saw. While everyone else circled the quarry and talked at length Lana stayed by the cars keeping watch, her face pale and her demeanour shaky.

"The decision is made," Lana snapped angrily, standing up in her pew and turning to leave. "I said no."

A stifled gasp swept the church as Vetor lunged and seized her by the arm, grabbing at her to prevent her leaving. In seconds those closest were slowly rising to their feet, looking at the pair in concern and wondering if they should intervene, if she needed their help. But it quickly became apparent that she didn't, a snarled rebuke making him release her as though she had burned him. While she turned on her heel and marched down the aisle Vetor resumed his seat, feeling the shameful gaze of disapproval from every other resident. As she passed them by she repeated her decision to Mitchell and Mina, loudly telling them that they were not to volunteer, and then she was gone.

A heavy silence fell about the church, the residents collectively holding their breath before slowly releasing it as the tension dissipated. Carrie glanced at Rick, glad that he didn't allow the silence to stretch on and instead picked up where he had left off by calling for more volunteers. Left alone in the fourth pew Sonja sat in silence, neither she nor Mitchell and Mina raising their hand to protect their community. They were following orders, doing as their group's leader had instructed them, and it was exactly what Carrie would have done in their position. Given Lana's outbursts it was clear they had a lot of groundwork to do, a realisation that seemed confirmed when she looked around at Rick as he continued. He spoke with the same passion and conviction he had before, but she could see it in his eyes that he was feeling the pressure. Lana's refusal to support them meant five strong fighters who were out, refusing to participate. It infuriated her, as did the accusations Lana had made against her. In front of the entire community she had questioned her competence, called her unhinged…the worst part of it was that she wasn't entirely wrong.

"I'll go," Nicholas insisted. This time he looked only at Rick, holding his gaze and imploring him to hear him out. "We have to do this…I need to help."

Carrie stepped forward again, but this time she was looking at Rick, not Nicholas. There was a long pause as he mulled over the unfavored volunteer, and he considered his options before looking at her for a moment. Surely he didn't need to think about this. He had seen first hand what Nicholas had done, how he got Noah killed, how he left she and Glenn behind at that warehouse. She wore a cast on her right wrist for two months because he shoved her aside, violently doing whatever necessary to save himself. Rick had to remember that…

"You sure you can handle it?" he questioned, turning back to Nicholas.

Nicholas nodded, though he lacked the body language to convey his confidence. "You need people."

"Rick, no," Carrie said quietly, starting towards him. He couldn't do this, she had to stop him.

"We'll make this work," he began, and though he was addressing the church as a whole it was she he looked at. He held her gaze for a moment, his expression indicating that he was firm in the decisions he was making. He turned to the others and continued. "All of us, together. We'll keep this place safe, we'll keep our families safe."

Knowing she was drawing attention to herself, Carrie turned on her heel and left through the side door, ignoring Daryl when he implored her to stay. She burst into the warm sunshine outside and then swiftly started for home, her whole body seething with furious rage. How could Rick do that? How could he just accept Nicholas as a volunteer, a man so poorly trusted he wasn't even assigned to a watch post anymore?

She reached the intersection by Jessie's house when she looked down towards the gate, catching a glimpse of Lana as she climbed the scaffolding up to the south watch tower. The long machete attached to her belt glinted in the sunlight, her weapon of choice for when she went outside the walls, and as she watched her climbing up Carrie felt envious of her. Lana was going outside the walls to kill Walkers, needing something to relieve her stress and fears about what her new community was now facing. She was out there often these days, hunting down Walkers with the W and looking for the people who had died on her watch, the three group members who had been murdered when she agreed to surrender to the Wolves.

As she watched her go Carrie wished that she could go out there too, that she could indulge in something to relieve the overwhelming rush of anger and resentment inside of her. But instead she stayed inside, knowing that her premature departure from the meeting didn't mean her job was done. There was more work to do, and in the pit of her stomach she knew that Rick would make her help convince Lana to join them. She had screwed everything up with this woman, and now they needed her group…Rick would expect her to help fix this.

Wanting to avoid it for as long as possible, Carrie avoided going home where she would be easily found, instead making her way towards the stable and enclosure where Buttons and Bubbles were currently relaxing in the sun. Letting herself inside, she brushed her hand over Button's neck before retreating into the shaded stable. Someone had been through to tidy it that morning, and so there was nothing for her to do other than sit down in the corner and wait for her time to come.

* * *

An hour later Rick stood on Deanna's patio waiting for the next meeting to begin, scanning the long list of volunteers and already sorting them in his head. He knew the instant their hands were raised that some of these volunteers, though well meaning, would not be active participants on the evacuation itself. But until then there was a lot of work to do, a great deal of manual labor they hadn't even considered yet. The list of volunteers was long indeed…but it was five short.

Lana's refusal to support this plan had come as a surprise to him, particularly given that the root of her problem seemed to be Carrie. He had hoped that during this time their differences could be set aside, that although Lana had every right to be mistrustful of Carrie given what happened on the supply run she would at least trust in his judgement. But it seemed neither of those were going to happen without a little help, without Rick and his group actively convincing her. It didn't matter that he wished that they could do this without her, that he wanted to let her lack of support slide. They were going to need all the able bodies they could get, and that included Lana's group.

Carrie didn't seem to have come through the meeting with any satisfaction, despite the overwhelming support of her plan to evacuate the quarry. It wasn't even just Lana's rejection that had gotten her down, it was Nichola's offer to help that was unwelcome. Even months later there was no getting over what he had done to her, that his cowardice had resulted in Noah's death. Nicholas had refused to stay and look for their missing group members, had pushed her away and abandoned her with a broken arm, had abandoned Glenn too. Since then he had kept his head down and nose clean, staying away from Carrie and her group at all costs. His sudden interest in resurfacing as an active part of this community had to be painful for her, and Rick only wished he could have supported her in the moment she needed him to. Nicholas' offer to help was unwelcome, but Rick didn't feel it wise to shoot him down in front of the entire community, to publicly humiliate him even. He was a problem to be dealt with later.

"When can we start?" Lana asked impatiently. She and Vetor stood on the other side of the table, having reluctantly accepted Rick's request that they talk more.

"We're waiting for Carrie," he said for a second time, knowing she wouldn't be far away. He wasn't going to start without her. Not only was this whole operation something she was taking charge of, she was the critical factor for getting Lana on board. Carrie was not going to be excluded, regardless of whether or not Lana's disapproval had fair grounds.

Getting the hint, Lana folded her arms and continued to wait, she and Vetor sharing a few quiet words. Being subtle about it Rick watched them from afar, still intrigued by their strange relationship. They seemed tumultuous at best, Vetor using his influence over her to dictate the decisions of their group, while Lana was torn between doing the right thing by her people and her desire to please him. She'd held an unreciprocated love for him for many years, and from what they heard during their ongoing surveillance Vetor continue to lead her on, promising things would change. If Lana wasn't so young and naive her situation would have brought about ridicule, whereas Rick felt only pity for her.

Her outburst in the church hadn't gone unnoticed, and although at the time he hadn't been able to dwell on it, he now understood what was happening. Though she'd done it before with some level of success, today Lana was standing up to Vetor, who no doubt wanted to use this quarry herd as an opportunity to gain access to the armoury. He knew from their surveillance that Vetor still held favour in his plan to rob Alexandria, but that Lana's devout opposition to this was about the only thing stopping their group from actively trying to get access. That debate was likely coming up again, leaving Lana torn between two choices neither of which she wanted to make. Risk their lives to help Alexandria by enacting Carrie's plan, or renew their efforts to steal from them and run. Either way, she risked losing everything, including Vetor.

Realising that Lana had noticed his attention, Rick didn't bother trying to hide it. He straightened up and held her gaze, trying to decipher what she was thinking. Like Carrie who he had learnt to read like a book, Lana's expression and body language didn't take much to decipher. She had taken an aggressive stance, her shoulders squared and her jaw tense, but he didn't try to make her settle. It was clear she was in a tough position, struggling with her ongoing refusal to let Vetor rob Alexandria, while also unable to trust in Carrie's judgement. It hadn't surprised him when she left the church in the middle of the meeting, nor that she had gone straight outside where she was often found hunting down Walkers.

Catching Daryl's short grunt, Rick looked over his shoulder and saw Carrie making her way up the road, having taken some time to continue cooling her temper before this meeting. He had recognised the stress on her face when the first meeting began, but as it continued he watched her expression souring more and more, the pressure of the herd, Nicholas and Lana coming down on her at once. Though he liked to think he would be able to help bring some element of comfort and reassurance to someone he loved as much as her, he knew that it was better to let her leave when she stormed out of the church. When he saw her hiding out in Button's stable he opted to leave her there too, knowing better than to push her for a debate when she was this livid…but he couldn't wait forever. Before things went too far he had called this meeting for them, hoping and praying that the two women would be able to find some kind of middle ground.

"Are you alright?" he asked, meeting her down on the pavement.

"I'm fantastic," she said harshly, her mouth twisted into a sour grimace.

Though he wished he could simply bring her into his arms and comfort her, Rick stood his ground and looked at her, waiting for her temper to settle. Knowing what he was doing she turned away and took a deep breath, taking a new approach. She aired her grievances and held nothing back.

"What the fuck was that in there?" she asked, gesturing towards the church. "Nicholas? Are you serious?"

"Nicholas is not the problem, we can handle him later. Right now we need to handle Lana an-"

"Well thanks for standing up for me," she cut him off. "That was real great of you."

He took a deep breath, keeping his own feelings on the matter separate. "Carrie…"

"Don't tell me you think she's right."

"She's not right…but she's not wrong either," he said apologetically, trying to be honest with her.

To her credit Carrie seemed to hold back whatever expletive first came to mind, her lips parting to blurt something out before she stopped herself. With a heavy sigh she raised her hands to her hair, clenching it in her fist as she tried to think. He waited patiently for her, seeing how difficult it was.

"So, I'm the problem then?"

He ignored this. "We need to fix things with Lana. This operation is going to be huge, we need all the able bodies we ca get, including her group. We need them to feel like a part of this community," he implored her. _So they don't rob us and run_ , he thought uncharitably. "Can you at least agree with that?"

There was a brief pause, Carrie's eyes darting up to Deanna's porch where everyone was waiting for them. "I can't work with that woman, I-I just can't," she began heavily. "She pushes all of my buttons. She does it intent-"

"You have to make this work, there's no other option. We need her."

With a heavy sigh Carrie lowered her gaze to the pavement, folding her arms across her chest. "I know."

"Your problem with Lana is completely unfounded, you said so yourself. With what happened on the supply run you have lost her trust."

"Rick…"

"You did raise your gun to her," he gently reminded her.

"But, she…" Carrie trailed off, looking at the ground again when she realised she had no grounds for argument.

"You are the one who has lost her trust, and now you need to earn it back. Swallow your pride and make this work."

There was a pause, Carrie twisting the toe of her shoe onto the ground as she mulled over this. She avoided eye contact, but Rick waited patiently, trusting that she would come to the right decision.

"Who's telling me to do this?" she asked, meeting his eyes now. "Rick my partner, or my leader?"

He knew what her question really meant, that she was asking him whether or not he cared more for her, or for Lana's group. She wanted him to stick up for her, to blindly support her no matter what, and he didn't blame her for wanting this. Conscious of the impact of his words, he chose them carefully while still being honest. "Both."

The flash of pain across her face was too quick for her to hide, reminding Rick that she wanted him to be on her side. But he simply couldn't…they both knew that the quarry herd was changing things, that he now had to resume his role as the community's de facto leader alongside Deanna. That meant he had to make the difficult decisions, even ones that made things harder for those he loved like Carrie. He wished it didn't have to be this way, that they could continue on as they were and he could help her through whatever pain she was struggling with…but it had to wait. Once the herd was dealt with they could go back to the way things were, they could resume their easy family life.

Without another word Carrie unfolded her arms and then walked past him, allowing him a glimpse of her expression as she went. Though she was still upset he could see the resolution in her eyes, the understanding that she simply had to do this. Just like he was, she was setting aside what she wanted in favour of what the community needed. He was right, they were going to need Lana and his group for this herd, and Carrie knew that. Steeling himself for whatever might come of this meeting, he followed her up onto Deanna's porch, apprehensively watching the two women as they faced one another across the table.

"Can we get on with this?" Lana requested, turning to Deanna with a silent request she referee.

"I think that would be wise," Deanna said diplomatically, giving Carrie a welcoming smile. Lana on the other hand was less welcoming, and bluntly got to the point.

"Go through the plan again. Every part," she said. "The exact plan."

For a long moment Carrie didn't say anything, her arms folded and her eyes cast down onto the table. As they waited Rick exchanged a glance with Michonne, both of them praying this went well. The fact was that they needed Lana's group more than they needed Carrie…but he didn't want to be the one to force her out. She'd be furious with him, even if it was the right call to make. Just as he was about to step forward, to set his hand onto her lower back and ask her to begin, Carrie raised her head and moved towards the table. She shuffled through the paper and the maps, finding one of the diagram they had drawn of the quarry.

"We have to open up two exits, here and here," she started, pointing out the features of the quarry. "Then w-"

"Why both?" Lana interrupted.

"Because we need to get the Walkers out as quickly as possible. We need to keep them in a tight formation so that we keep the attention of those at the back."

There was a long pause, Lana's lips pursed as she looked back at the diagram. With a short nod she prompted Carrie to continue. As she did so Rick released the breath he had been holding, relieved that they were getting on with things. She started explaining, going through it step by step and discussing the options, the implications and benefits of what she was proposing. Standing back and listening he was impressed with the way Carrie sold her idea, the way she spoke with absolute confidence and conviction, even through the flimsy parts of their plan. She knew how to sell her idea, how to be emotive or straightforward in the appropriate places. Nevertheless it seemed Lana was still unconvinced, her body language and staunch refusal to accept that this was the best option beginning to grate on Rick's nerves as well as Carrie's.

"I'm not confident with this," she said twenty minutes later, her lips pursed and her arms folded across her chest. "Redding Road will take the herd parallel to Alexandria. What if something happens and they come towards us?"

"I've already explained the contingencies."

"Flare guns and fireworks," Lana repeated, still unsatisfied. "And when they don't work?"

"We evacuate, like we discussed."

Lana looked at them all in disbelief, still incredulous. "I don't believe you're serious about that plan. There are over seventy people here, not to mention a one year old and a newborn."

Rick noticed the way Carrie tensed at this, taking offence to the suggestion that she hadn't considered these people. "We have our safe houses for a reason, so they can be used. We have enough supplies, food and weapons there to keep people for over a week."

"And Maggie?" Lana questioned skeptically. "She gave birth just over a week ago. And who does Denise go with? What if she had to chose between going with Maggie and Carl, or with Bob and Natalie?"

"Lana, you know full well that our evacuation plan is solid," Rick interjected. "Abraham took you and your group through the procedures when you first got here."

Suitably chastised but not done yet, Lana changed tact. "We cannot go through with this plan until we've considered every other possibility."

"We have," Carrie assured her. "We've been at the quarry since sun rise doing exactly that. We can't set fire to it, we can't build up the weak spots, and we can't do nothing. The-"

"There's got to be something else!"

Taking a deep breath Carrie seemed to steady herself for a moment. She nodded, her expression softening. "What did you have in mind?"

It was this question that rendered Lana silent, her inability to answer only supporting Carrie's assertion that the current plan was the best one. Floundering to come up with something, she weakly suggested building up the weak spots for a second time, only to be shot down just like before. Despite how much he wanted these two women to get along, Rick couldn't help but feel a small amount of satisfaction at the way Lana floundered now, glad that Carrie was being proven right.

"Those Walkers will get out eventually. The only way to protect ourselves is to make sure they get out on our terms," Carrie said vehemently, looking Lana in the eye and holding her gaze. "If we do this we control what happens, we get them away from us."

Unable to argue with that, Lana stayed silent, though she shared a loaded glance with Vetor, one that Rick was careful to scrutinise. Vetor hadn't said a word since Carrie had started, but now he spoke to Lana under his breath, his expression hard to read. Giving them a moment to themselves Rick looked around at this own people, glad to see Carrie waiting patiently. Deanna, Reg, Daryl and Michonne stood by too, watching the debate unfold, but for now they hadn't stepped in other than to clarify something Carrie had said in her explanation. Sharing a glance with Michonne, Rick was confident that this was going to go their way…it just seemed Lana needed a push, something else to reassure her that this was a worthwhile risk.

"Look, I get it," Carrie continued, imploring her. "You've got your people to look after…well so do I. This is our best option, but we need you to help us."

Reminding Rick that Lana's problem was more with Carrie than the plan, she kept her arms folded and her eyes narrowed as she gave her reply. "Tell me that you wouldn't have the same issues if you were in my position? Or would you just blindly follow the lead of a woman who raised her gun to you?"

"I know you don't want to follow my lead, but I thought this was your community too," she boldly challenged. "That's what you told me the other day."

"It is," Lana insisted, her voice tightening.

"Well trust me, I've done worse things I didn't want to do, so that I could look after my people. So suck it up and do this."

Rick held his breath for a moment, knowing what Carrie referred to with this remark. She never talked about what happened between her and the men who had coerced her into sex, but he knew it was something that she still thought about now. Now she had laid down a challenge to Lana, questioning her commitment to doing whatever it took to protect her people, even if it was dangerous. As silence stretched on Rick waited for Lana to respond, wondering how she would react to Carrie's abrasive tone. If he were in her position being told to suck it up would not have sat well with him, he would not have compromised just to prove that he was a part of the community. For the longest moment Lana held Carrie's gaze, her eyes still narrowed in disapproval, but then Vetor moved closer and muttered something under his breath.

Her expression souring even more, Lana turned away and conferred with Vetor, her brow furrowed as they quietly debated. She looked at Rick and Carrie as they spoke, and then cast her eyes over to Michonne a moment later. Whatever was going on between them, Vetor seemed to be winning, his squared shoulders and firm shake of the head leaving no room for Lana to negotiate. Making note of this, Rick reminded himself to check in with Abraham soon, to get a full report of what Lana and Vetor were talking about when they went home tonight. Whatever decision was made today, they were working an angle of some kind, whether or not Lana wanted them to. A minute or so later they turned back to the group, Lana looking even unhappier than before.

"You have our agreement," Vetor spoke for the first time, his Portuguese accent slow and melodic. "We will help you move the herd."

Lana quickly interjected before he could say anymore. "But on the day, it's Rick calling the shots," she said firmly, looking Carrie in the eye as she spoke. "Not you."

Feeling it was a fair compromise, particularly given it had been their plan all along, Rick turned to Carrie expectantly, waiting for her to look around for his confirmation. But she did not, and instead held Lana's gaze as if mulling over the terms of the offer. The wait was excruciating, but Rick had no doubt that this was intentional on Carrie's part. Mutual dislike aside, Carrie knew how to hold her audience.

"You have a deal."

* * *

Despite the setting sun the warmth of the day had waned only a little, the temperature comfortable enough for Carrie who was taking a brisk walk inside the walls. Her heart was pounding with every step, her hands clenched into fists as she tried to calm down following the stupid fight she and Rick just had. As she walked she replayed the argument over and over again in her head, trying to pinpoint where and why it had escalated, to find a reason other than the fact she was being completely irrational. It had been a stupid argument, one that Rick had tried his hardest to avoid. But she had been in the mood for drama, and after spending over an hour ignoring her petty comments he finally bit back, right in front of Daryl and Glenn.

"Why don't you climb down outta my ass and quit being a bitch," he snarled at her, angrily throwing Judith's toys into their container as he tidied the living room. "Could you manage that for ten minutes? Just ten minutes?"

Though she knew the better thing to do was say nothing, she was determined to have the last word, and so after suggesting he go fuck himself she slammed the front door on her way out. She hated what he had made her do that day, that he was forcing her to play nice with Lana instead of blindly taking her side…it didn't matter that he was right.

She knew what this kind of argument meant for them, that as soon as she returned home they would both offer an apology and it would be forgotten…but she wasn't quite ready to finish stewing in her own anger just yet. But as the anger and pettiness waned they were replaced instead with a growing sense of panic, for already she felt like things were spiralling out of her control. She barely had time to come to terms with what was happening to their family, still trying to get her head around the fact that Rick now had to resume his role of leadership. She wanted all of it to just go away, for her and Carl to have him back indefinitely so that their comfortable life could go on like before.

When they'd gone to bed last night, Rick had been curled up at her side while she watched a little television, she had been bringing herself to terms with a decision she had reached. She had been ready to tell him about the pregnancy at the first opportunity for privacy, ready to face the implications by telling him the truth about what was going on. The timing felt right, Carrie having already had weeks to come to terms with their future. She was ready and better prepared to help him through the inevitable shock and fear, to help him get through it so they could face it together.

Now though everything was changing, and the opportunity for Rick to process this news in private and in his own time had slipped through their fingers. The timing was all wrong now, for how could she possibly heap this news onto him the very day they learned of the quarry herd? It would have been cruel to weigh him down with more bad news, with something else he would inevitably lose sleep over. She just wanted everything to be right when she told him, and the change in circumstances left her feeling disheartened and let down.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't squash the growing feeling that she wanted to run away back to her home, as if she was a middle-schooler at summer camp. It was to her complete disbelief that she found herself wishing she had her mother by her side, her god damned mother of all people. Though they'd never been overly close, Carrie's mother was the first person she had turned to when she found out she was pregnant to Logan. Even now all these years later, she found herself wishing again that she could talk to her mother, that despite not being overly maternal she might be of some comfort right now.

There were tears streaming down her face by the time she came to her reluctant decision, her feet having automatically directed her to the next destination. She knew that she couldn't go on like this any more, that she had to make a change if she stood any chance of holding herself together for Rick's sake. This had gone on for too long now, and though she longed for Rick to be the first person she told about the pregnancy, she couldn't do this alone anymore. She couldn't tell him right now, but she had to tell someone, she just had to or she knew that she was going to spiral completely out of control. For his sake, it was crucial that she managed to keep her shit together until things were somewhat under control with the quarry herd. Things would be different then, she just had to make it that long.

She started trembling the moment she stepped onto the Infirmary's porch, knowing that everything was about to become a reality, that once she told Denise she couldn't go on pretending anymore. Praying that it wasn't Tara who answered she raised her fist and knocked loudly, self-consciously looking around as if expecting to find someone spying on her. It wasn't unusual for others to be taking a walk after dark…if someone was around they might see her, they might start asking questions. As she waited she wiped at the moisture on her cheeks, keeping her head down as her impatience grew. She knocked again, louder and more urgently this time, and when it was Tara who opened the door she didn't even care.

"I need to see Denise," she blurted out before Tara could greet her, the words falling from her mouth in an emotional rush.

Tara blinked at her in surprise, and then reacted appropriately. Suitably alarmed by her emotional state she ushered Carrie inside and closed the door, drawing the blind down to indicate to others that Denise was seeing someone. "You want Denise?" Tara asked, looking at her in concern.

"Yes," she said, resisting the urge to apologise.

It appeared Tara was in the middle of doing the dishes, that she was interrupting a quiet night at home between the new couple. Nevertheless Tara knew the expectations placed on Denise, that this was the Infirmary first and their home second. She didn't linger to ask what was wrong or offer support, instead doing exactly what was required of her whenever Denise saw a patient, which was making herself scarce. Promptly heading upstairs she called out for Denise, and the sound of hurried footsteps allowed Carrie to take a deep breath, relieved that she was coming quickly.

"Carrie, what's going on?" Denise enquired as she emerged from the hallway. In the distance the sound of the back door closing indicated that Tara had left the Infirmary, giving them complete privacy. "Are you alright? Is something wrong with Carl?"

Denise's questions were simple, but difficult to answer, and as she stood by the front door shaking Carrie struggled to speak. She didn't know where to start, she didn't know how to explain that she was falling apart inside, that any moment now she was going to break because she was barely holding it together. A few moments passed in silence, the words stuck in her throat until to her disbelief she started to laugh, tears simultaneously springing up in her eyes.

"I'm pregnant," she said quietly, laughing again as soon as the words left her lips. As the weight of her confession hit home her laughs turned darker, trailing off into a bitter chuckle. "I'm pregnant."

Maintaining her professional demeanour, Denise nodded supportively. "Alright. Have you taken a home pregnancy test?"

"Eight. I've taken eight."

Taken aback, Denise blinked at her for a few moments. "Ahh…that explains the missing inventory."

Carrie nodded, clearing her throat and speaking a little louder this time. "I wanted to be sure…and I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant."

Denise seemed to hold her tongue for a moment, her professionalism making her refrain from saying whatever came to mind first. Instead she nodded and then came over, picking up a box of Kleenex on her way. "Everything's going to be okay," she said kindly, holding her gaze. "This is nothing that you can't handle."

Taking one of the Kleenex, Carrie drew a shuddering breath and wiped her cheeks, feeling foolish when more tears fell. "I'm not so sure about that."

"I'm sure," Denise said, placing her hand on her upper arm. "Everything's going to be okay. Come over to a bed and take a seat."

As Denise stepped away to give her a moment to compose herself, Carrie turned and slowly made her way to the closest bed, recalling that the last time she had been in the Infirmary was the day she had her cast removed. Since then she had avoided Denise at all costs, no longer coming to talk to her about what had happened with Pete. At the time she had been afraid of telling Denise too much, of accidentally or intentionally telling her that she was pregnant. In hindsight that felt like had a poor choice, wondering if she would have handled things better had she told someone weeks ago. Already she felt a huge weight beginning to lift off her shoulders, having done the hardest part of actually telling someone. It was like the relief felt after gritting your teeth and ripping off a bandaid.

"When was the last time you emptied your bladder?" Denise asked, setting a large glass of water onto the moveable trolley beside the bed.

Taking it, Carrie clenched the glass between her hands, watching the water tremble as her hands shook. Everything felt completely surreal, and she could barely comprehend what she had just confessed. "I'm not sure…an hour ago, maybe."

"Alright, drink up then," she said gesturing to the water. As Carrie took a sip she started flicking through a small notebook, one in which she had hand drawn the lines and dates to make a personal diary. "Do you remember the date of your last period? The first day?"

"It should be in my medical file. Pete wrote it down."

"Ah, that's right. Your cycle was a bit erratic, so he was helping you track it, right?"

As Carrie nodded in confirmation, Denise opened her file and consulted the notes, reading Pete's messy scrawl and then flicking back a few more pages in her diary. She scribbled something down and then started flicking forward, and as she waited Carrie nervously took a sip of water, knowing Denise would want to do an ultrasound. The wait for the doctor to speak was excruciating, and even after all this time to come around to the idea, Carrie still wondered it maybe it was all a mistake, that all of the tests were faulty and there was no way she could be pregnant.

"Alright, so these dates are putting you at roughly thirteen weeks. That means-"

"No," Carrie abruptly interrupted her, startled by the number. "No, I'm only ten weeks. Maybe eleven, but not thirteen."

Denise frowned and then continued. "The first day of your last period was early June? Is that right?"

"Yes, but I know when it happened," she said awkwardly. She started to rush her explanation, trying to get it all out so that Denise could understand, so that she didn't say _thirteen weeks_ again. "Rick and I…it was on the fifteenth of June. It had to be then, that was the only time possible," she insisted, choosing not to go into more detail about how she was certain.

"I understand," Denise said patiently, flicking through the diary and indicating to the date Carrie told her. "This was roughly when you conceived," she agreed before flicking back two pages. "But there's always some give and take when it comes to dating a pregnancy. We'll figure that out shortly. When did you take the first test?"

"July."

"Why didn't you come to see me then?" she asked gently, looking at her in concern. "What held you back?"

Pressing her lips together, Carrie shrugged at first. But just as she resolved herself to not saying why the explanation came rushing out of her As Denise reached over and held her hand she recounted the day she had taken the first test, the overwhelming fear she had felt, the sense of failure for having allowed this to happen. Listening without judgement Denise spoke only occasionally, reassuring her that her reaction was understandable, that she wasn't being ridiculous.

"It sounds like a big weight off your shoulders," Denise remarked, still holding her hand. "I'm glad you came to tell me."

Taking a shuddering breath, Carrie nodded her head and took a deep breath. Denise was right, for every spoken word seemed to bring an equal measure of relief, as if she were sucking the venom out of a snake bite. Feeling a little more in control of herself now that the hardest part was over, she wiped her cheeks with a Kleenex and then took a sip of water, trying to ease the headache that had sprung up thanks to her crying. They sat in silence for a few moments, and then in her own time Carrie started speaking again.

"I haven't told Rick yet," she confessed. "He knows something's wrong, just not what…he thinks I'm just stressed."

"Why have you chosen to keep it from him?"

"It's just…I don't want him to have to worry, I don't want him to be afraid. Or angry."

"You think he'll be angry?"

Taking a moment to consider this, Carrie shook her head. "No, he won't be. I was going to tell him soon. Monday," she explained, wanting that to be clear. "But with the quarry, and…it's just not the right time now."

"What do you think he will feel when you do tell him?"

Though she noticed this was turning into a counselling session, Carrie answered the question. Denise had helped so much following Pete's attack, perhaps she could help now. "He'll put on a brave face, he'll tell me everything will be okay…but on the inside he'll be scared. I don't want him to have this burden too."

"When do you think you will tell him?"

"Soon, but not yet," she said, not committing herself to a deadline. "I want to wait until everything settled, but I don't know how long I can. I think he'll be hurt I didn't tell him straight away."

"If you'd like, I can be with you when you tell him. Or I can see you both after, whatever you think might be best."

Carrie just nodded, unsure of which path would be best. They fell into a brief silence again, Carrie beginning to feel shell shocked from all of it, the reality an enormous weight to comprehend. Unexpectedly she started to laugh again, unable to believe that this had happened to her for a second time. The only time she'd missed a pill during her former marriage she had fallen pregnant, and the only time she and Rick had taken a risk she fell pregnant again.

"Let's do that ultrasound," Denise suggested. "Check things out, confirm how far along you are."

She should have jumped at the chance, her heart should have lifted with elation the way it had the first time she had a pregnancy scan, but tonight she couldn't help feel rather unenthusiastic. Nevertheless she nodded her head in agreement, finishing her glass of water while Denise headed into the back room to bring through the ultrasound machine. As she waited Carrie looked around, still feeling nervous and paranoid that her reason for being here would be discovered. They had complete privacy, all the curtains were drawn already and a privacy screen always at the ready, but still she felt nervous, as if Rick would come looking for her and interrupt them. She knew he wouldn't, that he would be content to let her take a walk to blow off some steam, but still she worried. The time for her to tell him had well and truly passed, she should have told him weeks ago. With the benefit of hindsight she felt stupid for not telling him.

Denise returned a minute later, wheeling in the ultrasound cart and then pulling the privacy screen around. As she plugged the cord in and turned on the equipment, Carrie lay down and did as instructed, lifting her shirt and opening the button on her shorts. Pushing them down just a little she let Denise fuss around, placing a paper napkin around her clothes to keep them clean. As she waited Carrie looked up at the ceiling, her hands clenched together as she wondered what to do with them. The wait was excruciating, she and repeatedly talked herself down from the impulse to get up and walk out, to leave before the ultrasound could start.

"This will just be a little cold," Denise warned her, applying a conservative amount of blue gel to her lower belly. "Just until I get situated I'm going to keep the screen facing only me," she explained, her lips pursed and brow furrowed in concentration as she moved the transducer over her belly. "It's been a while since I've done a first trimester scan. I'll show you once I've got a good view of the uterus."

Not saying anything, Carrie kept looking up at the ceiling, wishing her heart rate would slow down a little. She felt sick to the stomach with nerves, wishing already that this was over. People were coming over tonight, to talk more about the quarry herd and to start planning the finer details. That's what she wished she could focus on, that if she could go home and handle that everything else would be okay. She would worry about the pregnancy tomorrow or the next day.

"Alright, take a look at…Carrie?"

The moment she heard Denise moving the computer screen around Carrie turned her head away, not even thinking about it. When Denise said her name in confusion she felt her cheeks going red, ashamed of the way she was behaving…she ought to want this, she should be longing to see her baby, but she couldn't. Her heart was pounding in the base of her throat, her hands shaking as she clenched them into fists by her side.

"I don't want to see it," she said quietly, struggling to speak clearly. "Not yet."

There was a brief silence and then Denise moved the screen back out of her sight. "Would you like to hear the heart beat?"

She hesitated, her answer on the tip of her tongue. "Is it okay? The heartbeat?"

"I haven't listened yet, but it looks as expected."

Hesitating for a moment longer, Carrie let out a slow breath and then nodded her head. Denise tapped at a few more keys and then readjusted the transducer, moving it around a little more, and then without warning the heartbeat started to sound. The high pitched rhythm startled her a little, the rate much faster than she had expected. For a minute she simply listened, and slowly she began to feel as if she were opening her eyes for the first time, that until now she hadn't really been awake for the last few months. There it was, the proof that eight pregnancy tests hadn't been able to provide. She was really pregnant…inside her was a beating heart, something was alive. Against her better judgement she turned her head and looked at the back of the ultrasound machine, listening closely to the sound of her baby's heartbeat. Still concentrating, Denise moved the transducer lower down her belly, finding a different spot and angle from which to study her new patient.

"It's fast," she commented quietly, looking at Denise to gauge her thoughts.

"It's in the normal range," Denise assured her. "One hundred and sixty eight beats per minute, that's fine."

"And…" she paused, taking a deep breath. "And everything looks okay?"

"Yes. I can see the whole foetus, everything looks normal. Are you sure you don't want to see?"

She did. Now that she had heard the heartbeat she felt compelled to see her baby for herself, to look at it and feel for the first time that perhaps everything would be okay. But just like before she held herself back again, for a different reason this time. "I think maybe I should wait for Rick," she said, her voice sounding stronger now, more in control. "I think he'd like that."

"That sounds nice," Denise agreed, turning her attention back to the monitor. "You haven't had any bleeding recently? Any cramping or discomfort?"

"No."

Noting that down in the file she continued the scan, tapping at a few more keys and muttering under her breath when she made a mistake. "I've done some measurements, we'll split the difference and put your pregnancy at twelve weeks. Like I said, there's always some give and take when it comes to dates, even when you know the day you had sex."

"How big is it?"

"Hmm," Denise murmured, glancing at her notes again. "Maybe the size of a small lemon. A little smaller."

"Wow," she said in astonishment, looking down at her belly. There was a lemon at home in the fruit basket…that was bigger than she expected.

"You're already beginning to show," Denise said a few minutes later, having finished the ultrasound and wiped the blue gel off her belly.

To her surprise she felt a smile beginning to cross her face, one she had not been expecting. "I wasn't sure if I was just imagining it or not," she said, still looking at herself. Denise was right, for the space between her hips did indeed seem a little rounder these days. "I can still hide it with my clothes though."

"You can sit up now."

Fastening the buttons on her shorts she did as requested, finding it rather difficult to look away from herself. As Denise started wheeling the ultrasound machine aside Carrie took a quick peek at the screen before thinking about it too much, disappointed when she found that it was turned off.

"Rick's blood type is A negative, right?" Denise enquired, continuing when Carrie nodded. "And you're an O negative," she said, consulting her medical file. "You're sure it's negative?"

"I'm sure. Does it matter?"

Denise nodded, wiping her finger down with an alcohol wipe before pricking it with a lancet, taking a blood sugar reading. "Do you know anything about Rhesus factors? If your Rhesus factor clashed with Rick's, you could experience difficulties with pregnancies subsequent to this one. But you guys are all set for as many as you want."

An incredulous laugh escaped her throat at this comment, and despite what was said she felt her mood lift a little. "I don't think subsequence pregnancies will be on the cards for us," she began, needing to say that out loud as if it were a superstition to acknowledge. "This one wasn't on the cards."

Denise nodded, giving a polite smile. "How are you feeling now?" she asked gently, being sensitive to her mixed emotions.

She paused before answering, wanting to give an honest answer. "Ummm…I don't know." When Denise passed her a Kleenex for the small dome of blood on her finger tip she took the moment to consider what was going on in her head, to take stock of her feelings. "Alright, I think."

"You're due in March," Denise informed her, flicking through her handwritten calendar diary. "At least you can avoid being pregnant over the summer like Maggie was."

Carrie nodded, sympathising with Maggie who had struggled with the heat during her final trimester. A startling thought occurred to her now, that of being struck down will a horrible illness, with preeclampsia or gestational diabetes…if she died, would Rick be left alone with another newborn? Would Carl's life be upheaved again, while Judith lost another mother? Or worse…what if something happened to the baby. What if she got hurt and it died? What if it was stillborn, or had…

Trying to rid herself of these thoughts, Carrie took a deep breath and asked, "What now? What do I do next?"

Denise wrote something down in the file before closing it, and she looked up with a reassuring smile. "Get on with things as normal. Keep taking the prenatal vitamins, drink plenty of water, avoid being in the heat for long periods. When you're ready to tell others I'll have Olivia start rationing your household a little extra food."

"Alright." While she took stock of the instructions she started thinking about something that had been bothering her for weeks, something that made her feel deeply ashamed. "Denise, I…"

"Yes?"

Carrie spoke softly, her eyes focused on her clenched hands. "Maggie's baby shower was a champagne breakfast…and then there was Tequila Tuesdays for a while…" She trailed off uncomfortably, thinking about the evenings when she drowned her sorrows, seeking a coping method throughout the first few weeks following the attack.

"Are you worried about your alcohol consumption?"

She nodded, forcing herself to raise her head and look Denise in the eye. "I stopped as soon as I realised I missed my period, I swear. I told Rosita I was on a health kick."

"There's no need for you to be worried. Half of all pregnancies are unplanned, so it's not uncommon for women to consume alcohol in the early stages of pregnancy before they're aware," she assured her. "Carrie, you've done all the right things."

"But, it was more than just one or two drinks," she said heavily, remembering the nights where Rick had to escort her home and into bed. The following morning she would awaken with a headache and queasy stomach, and all the while she had been pregnant. "Could I have hurt the baby?" she asked, the latter word more difficult to say than she expected.

"Like I said, it's not uncommon in unplanned pregnancies. This is not something I think you need to dwell on. What you should focus on now is taking care of yourself, and deciding when it's the right time to tell Rick."

"So you…you think it's going to be okay?"

"Like I said, you've already done the right things. You're taking care of yourself well, the baby too."

Trying her best to take the reassurance on face value, Carrie turned her thoughts elsewhere. "I want to tell Rick soon. It's just he's going to be so busy in the next few weeks with the herd in the quarry. I don't want to burden him with this."

"That's something else you'll need to consider," Denise gently reminded her. "Your role in evacuating the herd. I don't recommend you be spending extended periods of time out in the hot sun. From what I've heard, there's going to be a lot of manual labour in the coming weeks."

"Yeah," she agreed, beginning to feel the heavy weight returning to her shoulder. Nevertheless it felt like a different burden this time, one that although heavy was a little easier to bear. She thought about the sound of the racing heartbeat she had listened to, the rapid thump that reminded her of a galloping horse. Tonight she would fall asleep still hearing that sound, comforted by how strong and healthy it was.

"Do you have anything else you want to talk to me about?" Denise enquired. "Things going on at home? Carl? Anything at all."

"No, thank you. I think I should be getting home," she decided, feeling a little more level headed now. "Everyone's probably there by now."

"My offer to be there when you tell him still stands," Denise said, walking her to the front door. "Think about it."

"I will." Standing there with her hand on the door knob Carrie hesitated before leaving. "Thanks for seeing me Denise…sorry I had to kick Tara out."

Still paranoid that someone might be spying on her and would tell Rick where she had been, Carrie looked around as she made the short walk home. But like before there was no one around, no one sitting on their front porches to spy on her every movement. She walked in peace, taking her time as she resisted the urge to circle Alexandria yet again. Rick would indeed be awaiting for her return, concerned for her state of mind following their argument. Given their argument she didn't think it would raise his suspicions if she came home with her face tearstained, and so she didn't allow herself to delay her return home.

She wanted to find the house empty and peaceful, to simply join Rick on the couch and cuddle up against his side, but as expected the house was abuzz with activity. The magnitude of the threat they faced necessitated they get their plan into action as soon as possible, that there be no delays. There was a small crowd of people clambering around their dining room table, everyone talking amongst themselves as they consulted various maps and road guides. The usual people were there, and to her annoyance so was Lana and Sonja, but Carrie chose not to let herself dwell on that. Instead she brought her attention to Rick.

He had noticed her return home immediately, and without a word he pushed his chair out and turned it a little. Recognising the offer, Carrie came over and gently seated herself on his lap, liking how natural it was for them to do this. It still warmed her to know that they didn't have to hide their relationship anymore, that they could be open and affectionate in front of other people, even Carl. Tonight Rick put his arm around her hips and settled it on her upper thigh, helping keep her steady while her arm went around his shoulders.

"Everything okay?" he asked softly, giving her his full attention.

Their fight and the harsh words exchanged were forgotten, reminding her of how kind he was even when she didn't deserve it. She nodded in response to his question, absentmindedly stroking her hand over his hair as she turned to the meeting in progress. Like earlier, the group was still trying to pin down the best routes through which they could lead the herd, trying to identify any obstacles and challenges they might face. Carrie admired their forward thinking, but she knew that the only way for them to determine the best choice was to evaluate their options in person. The others knew this to, but it was natural that they want to prepare as much as possible. Judging by the conversation they weren't attempting to lay concrete plans for the evacuation, but rather dividing themselves into groups that would go and scout each individual routes, assessing them for the strengths and weaknesses of each option.

It was exactly what she would have had them doing had she been leading this meeting, and just as this thought occurred to her so to did something else Denise said. She needed to be reevaluating her role in this evacuation, to be deciding whether or not it was the right choice to be involved. While it was in the best interests of the group that they had all hands on deck, and certainly she had experience in this type of operation, it wasn't in her own best interests. So many things could go wrong out there, and that wasn't even taking into account the ill effects of undergoing hard labour in hot weather. Regardless of how serious the consequences could be to herself, if something happened to her during this operation she could endanger her group. She could distract them from the task, could necessitate some of them breaking away from their roles to render her assistance or take her home. She needed to think carefully about this, and not just for the sake of herself.

Hearing him making sounds, Carrie turned and looked at Herschel who lay in his stroller nearby. He had been sleeping soundly, but now his face was screwed up while his tiny fists flailed about. Moments later his mouth opened with a low cry, though Maggie and Glenn seemed unconcerned. He glanced down at his son and then reached in to adjust the light blanket he was swaddled with. Comforting him, he used his foot to push the stroller back and forth, turning his attention back to the others as he did so. Carrie on the other hand kept watching Herschel, entranced by the way he continued to give stuttered cries, his eyes open and unfocused as he peered up at the ceiling.

It was rather disconcerting to watch him crying, a dreadful sense of anxiety filling her as she waited for Glenn to do something else, for him to pick Herschel up. He looked so small and lonely in his stroller, his cries his only way of pleading someone to help him, to be there for him. But just as she was going to ask Rick if they should do something, Herschel began to settle. His cries tapered off into quiet grumbles, and after giving a yawn in which his tiny mouth was stretched wide open he closed his eyes and fell silent. As the anxiety inside her began to ease up Carrie glanced at Glenn, glad to find that he too was relieved, that he had been paying attention. He shared a glance with Maggie who sat across the table, giving her a nod of reassurance.

Looking back at Herschel again, Carrie was filled with wonder as she looked at his now peaceful face, trying to comprehend the fact that he was a living, breathing being. What was even more incomprehensible was the fact that in a few months she too would have a newborn, she and Rick would be in Glenn and Maggie's place. March was many months away, but it felt infinitely closer now that Denise had determined the month she was due to deliver. At this thought she felt a shiver go through her body.

"You okay?" Rick asked again, rubbing the side of her leg. "Are you cold?"

She shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile, embarrassed that he had noticed. Until now she hadn't even considered the prospect of having to labour and give birth, and was a horrifying thought. Maggie had contractions for more than a day, she spent an hour in active labour before it was finally over, and it was impossible for Carrie to not hear her crying out in pain from next door. She dared not think about how awful it might be, how she would fare through the worst pain she'd ever experienced. Did Maggie still think about that a week later, or had she forgotten it in the midst of her joy? Carrie didn't think it was something she would ever forget.

"I'm sorry about before," she quietly whispered, looking down at him with contrition.

He didn't need to give it a second thought. "Me too," he answered, the arm around her tightening.

While he held her gaze for a moment, he was soon forced to turn his attention back to the task at hand, answering a question before falling silent, not liking the implications of whatever problem had been raised. Though she ought to be paying attention, Carrie kept her focus on him for just a little longer, remembering just how grateful she was for the life they were building together. It wasn't perfect, they were still two flawed human beings, but the life they wanted to have together was making it all worthwhile.

* * *

A/N Sorry about the delay in posting this chapter, it needed rewriting work and I've been slammed at work. I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for the awesome reviews, I love reading them.


	7. Chapter 7

Wednesday September 3

It was with a heavy sigh that Rick collapsed down onto the couch beside Carl, his body heavy with weariness and pushed to the limit. Four days had passed since their community meeting, four days in which key members of the community had been out in the field on foot, scouting various roads and routes down which they could lead the quarry herd. It had been exhausting, and between the lot of them they had to have walked over a hundred miles, the trade off for the necessity of saving gasoline. Their work had been completed as quickly as possible, and by Tuesday morning they had decided on the final route, having chosen it for its long stretches of straight road and the minimal distractions to take care of.

Having finalised their decision that morning they had quickly set about preparing the road, dividing the labour up among the many capable volunteers. There was a section wall to build and a long stretch of road whose deep ditches needed to be blocked off lest the Walkers wander off. Rick had volunteered for the most labour intensive role, that being searching on foot for cars. The ones that ran were driven into place, but it was those that wouldn't start that were the hardest. A faulty engine or flat battery wasn't going to stop them being useful, simply necessitating that they be manually pushed.

Hearing footsteps approaching, Rick smiled when he felt a cool glass of water being pressed into his hand. He let his eyes flutter open as he forced himself to sit up a little, looking up at Carrie gratefully as he took a long drink. To his surprise she had gone home early that day, having joined him with the cars only for a few short hours. The moment Eugene arrived on his solar powered golf cart with refreshments she had opted to call it a day, taking a ride home with him. No one had been disconcerted that she left early, for the heat had always affected her more than southerners like Rick and Abraham, but Rick had felt particularly glad. Carrie worked just as hard as anyone else, but he did prefer the idea of her being safely at home, spending time with their children who needed her.

"Thank you," he said gratefully, passing her the empty glass. She gave him a knowing smile and then presented with another glass, this one filled with an amber liquid he had spent the day looking forward to. He took it gratefully, bringing the scotch to his lips and taking a sip. "I'll make a wife out of you," he said under his breath, low enough that Carl didn't hear him.

Judging by the way she rolled her eyes and struggled to hide her smile, Carrie heard what he said. Nevertheless she turned and left without another word, having taken a few moments to take care of him. The two of them had the mutual understanding that when the time was right they would talk of getting married, and that just as Rick enjoyed teasing that she'd make a good wife, Carrie enjoyed the pretence of refusal.

"Hey, where's mine?" Carl protested playfully, looking up from the novel he was reading. "I'd like a glass of water with lemon and ice."

"You've got two legs, get your own," Carrie retorted as she left. "And take your feet off the coffee table. Both of you."

There was a heavy thud as Carl did as he was told, whereas Rick simply stretched out and put his legs across Carl's lap, making sure to briefly dig the heel of his boot into his knee. He grinned at the look of disdain on his son's face, glad that he seemed to be in a good mood that afternoon. It had already been a long and difficult couple of days since they'd discovered the herd, but Carl had been particularly difficult to content with, not that Rick blamed him. Their quiet life together had been completely upheaved, and the easy consistency they had developed as a family was no more. But while he'd been in an understandably bad mood, it seemed he had begun directing that at Carrie in particular, his attitude and general demeanour towards her having taken a turn for the poorer. Given his current good mood, Rick hoped that it was done with now.

"Where's Judith?" he asked, having only just noticed her absence.

"Still at Deanna's house," Carrie answered, bustling around somewhere. "I tried to take her home, but she refused."

"She refused?"

"Point blank refused. She enjoys going there."

Noticing that Carrie sounded a little disappointed, Rick smiled to himself. It wasn't unusual for Judith to enjoy being out of her normal routine, but it was somewhat disappointing when she wasn't pleased to see you'd arrived to pick her up. Looking forward to seeing her again later, Rick sipped at the remainder of his scotch and closed his eyes, glad that Carl seemed to be tolerating him draping his legs on his lap. He needed to get up and take a shower, to wash the day off and then spend the evening relaxing with his family, but he struggled to find the energy and motivation to do anything about it.

As he began to worry he might slip off to sleep right there, a knock at the front door roused his attention, the interruption to the serenity making him sigh in disappointment. He sat up and took his feet from Carl's lap, rubbing his eyes as he listened to Carrie's footsteps heading for the door. But a moment later they began to slow to a stop in the middle of the living area.

"It's Ron," she said quietly.

At this news Rick's sigh grew heavier, and now he forced himself to get to his feet. Carl who had looked up from the book he was reading quickly turned back to it, well used to going out of his way to avoid Ron. Time had not anything to heal the rift between the two teens, not that Rick had hoped it would. She too avoiding Ron, Carrie made herself scarce without another word, the sound the dryer door opening and closing indicating that she was seeking refuge in the laundry room. Like every other time, he was to deal with Ron alone, the only one among them who had any tolerance to do so.

"Ron," he began as he opened the front door, bracing himself for the request that he knew was to come. There was only ever one reason that he came over. "Is everything alright?"

He nodded, his mouth twisted into its usual grimace. "I want to see my dad."

Pretending to consider it, Rick paused for a moment before answer. "I'm sorry, Ron. Now's not a good time. I-"

"Please," he added, the word sounding difficult for him to say.

"It's ju-"

"I rarely ask for this," he reminded him, sounding as though he had expected the refusal and so rehearsed his argument. "And now everyone's too busy with the herd to take me…it could be weeks, and I want to see him."

Silently cursing, Rick looked away from Ron and tried to think, furious with the position he was in. The last thing he wanted was any ongoing involvement with the Andersons, especially Ron, but the small flicker of compassion he felt for him compelled him to set that aside. He thought about Carl, knowing that despite all that had happened with Pete, one day he might be in the position Ron was in. One day it might be Carl asking someone to take him to Rick's grave, it might be Carl suffering this grief.

"Do you have your mother's permission?"

"Yes."

Despite his plans to shower and spend the rest of the afternoon with Carl, he came to a reluctant decision. "Meet me outside the armoury in five minutes."

Without a word of thanks Ron turned on his heel and left, returning home to collect the heavy jacket and closed in shoes he was required to wear outside the walls. As he watched him go Rick took a deep breath and then closed the door, knowing he had to face his own son's disappointment now.

"Carl, I have to go out for a while."

"It's okay," he said quietly, looking up from the novel he was reading.

"I won't be an hour."

"Go for as long as he wants," Carl muttered, turning back to his book.

Rick knew that he wasn't being charitable to Ron, but that he had simply accepted the fact that from now on, Rick's time and attention had to be shared. In one respect Ron was right, for the quarry herd did indeed mean that everyone was going to be busy with the preparations, that his opportunities to visit Pete's grave were slim from here on out. Rick's decision to come home early meant that he was the unfortunate selection to take Ron, his intention to spend some time with his family forced to be set aside.

Before he left for the armoury he stopped by the laundry where Carrie was bustling around, not because she had work to do in there, but because she wanted to avoid Ron. With a soft apology Rick told her his intentions, but like any other time he didn't mention that it was Pete's grave he was taking Ron to. There was no need to bring up his name, not when she already knew exactly where he was going. Like the other times she simply nodded her head and asked him to be safe, not wanting to discuss it any further. He was glad she took it so well, that over the last few days a change had come over her, a more positive energy that was probably attributed to having a strong solution for the quarry herd.

Temporarily setting aside his frustrations, Rick departed for the armoury in hopes of getting this over with quickly. As he made the short walk he mentally ran through the whereabouts of his people, knowing that many of them were still out at the various sites working for the remainder of the daylight. There were only a couple of people who had come back early like him, and as he rounded the corner and passed Deanna's front door he saw two of them standing out on the pavement a few yards down. Lana and Vetor were standing by the foot of the stairs, arguing as usual, but when she looked up and saw Rick approaching he realised she had been waiting for him.

"You're going out to the grave, yeah?" she questioned, turning away from Vetor all together.

Rick raised his eyebrows at her, looping his thumb through his duty belt as he walked straight past them. "What makes you say that?" he asked as she followed him up the front steps of their storage townhouse. "You taken to reading minds?"

"No. Ron came to me first, wanted me to drive him out."

"And?"

"And, I told him to ask you. I take it you said yes."

"A reasonable conclusion to draw," he conceded, starting up the stairs to the first floor where the armouries were. As she followed him he looked at her over his shoulder. "Yes?" he asked, though he knew exactly what was coming. Behind her, Vetor lingered out on the footpath.

"We'll come with you. Back you up."

"That's kind of you," he said, playing along. As they reached the hallway upstairs he slowed to a stop in front of the first armoury, the one that held their general use weapons. He turned to face Lana expectantly, prepared for the standoff that was likely to result.

She looked at him with a polite smile that soon became strained, and then she gave up all pretence. "Seriously? Come on."

Rick shook his head. "Wait downstairs."

She flexed her jaw before turning on her heel and marching away, but she barely made it to the mouth of the staircase before she spun back around. "Come on Rick, we've been here over two months now. Why are you still holding out on us?"

"Call it an executive decision."

"Robbie had access within a week," she argued in frustration. "He told me so himself."

"Robbie's nice to me," he mused, tapping the toe of his boot on the wooden floor. "He compliments my cucumbers."

Lana rolled her eyes at this, swearing under her breath. "I'll do whatever you want me to do to your cucumber, just give me the code."

Given her original intentions to sleep with him for the armoury code, her crude remark was not lost on him. "No."

"No?" she spluttered. "You can't just say no, I deserve access to the armoury! I'm sick and tired of having to go through Olivia anytime I want something more powerful than my handgun. I'm sick of having to empty my pockets to prove I'm not hoarding rounds after a supply run. You know she makes me turn out the hem of my jeans? My shoes?"

"She does that because I told her to."

"Why? What the fuck did I ever do to you?"

Rick paused before he answered. "I think you know."

That was all he needed to say, and a brief silence elapsed as Lana's expression soured even more. Impatient, Rick cleared his throat and gestured towards the stairs, and despite having plenty more fight in him he was glad when Lana reluctantly gave up and went downstairs. Entering the code he slipped into the armoury and collected two rifles, a spare handgun for himself, and then Ron's pistol and holster. He considered it for a long moment, reminding himself of the small tricks he used to pull on Carl, the small sabotages he used to make before bringing them to his attention. It was a way of teaching him how to be safe and prepared…if things had been different with Pete he knew that he would have extended the same learning to Ron. With this in mind he kept the magazine separate from the pistol, opening the chamber and checking that it was clear before he departed.

Lana and Vetor were waiting out on the pavement, whereas Ron lingered on the other side of the street with a bunch of flowers in his hands, avoiding having to interact with any of them. Looking at all three of them, each person being a small thorn in his side, he wished the drink Carrie had poured him had been a little more generous. The sooner they got on with this the sooner it would be over, and so he passed one of the rifles to Lana and kept the other, while he handed the pistol and holster to Ron. As he expected Ron didn't immediately notice that the magazine was missing, and the group had made it to the gate by the time he realised something was amiss. Having secured the holster to his belt he took out the gun and looked it over, his lips parting when he realised.

"Hey, what the hell?" he said angrily, showing Rick the empty grips. "You're giving me an empty gun?"

As the gate was closed behind them Rick took the magazine out of his pocket and passed it to Ron. "Don't forget, you need to check your weapon first thing," he instructed, speaking quietly so only they heard.

Ron's cheeks flushed a little, but he made no apology as he took the magazine and slipped it into place, Rick listening out for the tell tale click that secured it. From the corner of his eye he watched as Ron looked the gun over and brushed his thumb over the safety switch, double checking that it was secured. He then pulled the slide back to bring a round into the chamber before holstering it safely.

"Can I drive?" he asked as soon as they reached the car.

Rick grit his teeth, finding no reason to refuse him. After all, it was he who had insisted on teaching kids like Ron to drive, and this was the perfect opportunity for him to practice on the short distance to the grave site. Besides, he knew that Glenn and Abraham let him drive when they took him out. Without a word he gave him the keys and then took the front passenger seat, feeling a glimpse of satisfaction when he saw Vetor looking rather unhappy with the change of driver. Ron seemed perfectly competent, easily finding the friction point and changing gears smoothly. Keeping careful watch of his attention to the road and speed, Rick thought back to the day many months ago when they had been teaching the kids to drive. Carl had mostly learnt to drive when they lived at the prison, barely able to see over the wheel even after sitting on two telephone books, but he had learnt well. Like Carl, Ron too had learnt to drive from his father, the two of them making laps around the community and enduring frequent engine stalls and a rose bush that never quite survived being run over.

The short journey passed without incident, though the car's handling was a little rough as Ron drove it across the field, and Rick could have sworn he was aiming for every bump and hole. When they came to a stop he checked that the handbrake secured before he looked around to scope the area, stepping out for a better assessment and then deciding it was safe for Ron to get out. Ron too was careful to look around as he stepped out of the safety of the vehicle, following all of the procedures that came so naturally to Rick, and would one day come naturally to him too.

Taking the flowers with him, Ron didn't spare the others a word as he went over to his father's grave and set them down. He stood there for a few moments, perhaps deciding on how long he wanted to stay, and then he sat down at the end of the mound of dirt. With the indication that they was there to stay, Rick went around to the driver's side and removed the keys from under the sun visor. Though it was standard practice to keep them there, today he pocketed the keys, feeling unusually cautious. It was strange to be wary of a teenager, and though he didn't really expect Ron to steal the car, he was still careful. Perhaps if he had been more careful with Pete, Carl might never have been hurt.

Lana slung her rifle over her shoulders and started walking the field with Vetor, keeping an eye on all of the lines of sight. On the other hand Rick stayed back, opening the glove compartment and rifling around the maps and emergency supplies until he found the small cardboard box. Feeling he deserved one today, he removed a single cigarette and lit the end, indulging in his first smoke in two weeks. While he felt his efforts qualified him as having quit smoking, he still allowed himself a small indulgence every now and then.

Prepared for a long wait, Rick settled himself on the hood of the car, the heel of his boots resting on the grille guard as he watched over Ron. There was no point in denying that he hated bringing the teenager here, resenting the fact that Pete was afforded a dignified burial in a nearby field. If Rick had his way he would have dumped Pete's corpse on the side of the road and never spared it a second thought, but it wasn't he who had organised the burial. At the time he had been in the midst of Carl's injury, and the disposal of Pete's body hadn't even crossed his mind. Now he couldn't help but feel slighted, annoyed that the community had gone to such efforts for the man who attacked Carrie and maimed Carl. A small service had been held for him, Gabriel reading him the last rites before his body was taken away to be buried. In the weeks that followed Jessie and Sam had made him a wooden cross, had painted it light blue and carefully traced his name on it. It was only the fact he was buried outside the walls that gave Rick any semblance of satisfaction with the arrangements.

Only slightly soothed by the taste of the tobacco, Rick often thought about his own inevitable death, wondering if he would go down in a fight or be devoured by Walkers. Perhaps he would die peacefully like his mother had, or in a freak accident like his father…would his family be able to bury his body, or would there be nothing left? Frankly he didn't care for his own burial, funeral rites being for those left behind not for the dead…perhaps that was the reason he hadn't bothered coming out here to desecrate Pete's grave. He wasn't above doing that, getting one last kick in to seek some vengeance for Carrie and Carl, but for the sake of Jessie and her boys he refrained. Nevertheless it was tempting to consider. That wooden cross was flimsy, it would barely take more than a kick to break.

"How does the missus like you smoking?"

Surprised by her comment, Rick raised an eyebrow as Lana came to join him on the hood of the car. Further out Vetor was still walking the perimeter, keeping an eye on things while Rick and Lana's attention lapsed.

"It's frowned upon at home."

"I'll bet." She boldly reached her hand out, gesturing to the cigarette and requesting a draw.

"Aren't you too young to smoke?" he jibed, though he passed it over anyway.

Lana scoffed. Judging by the easy way she held the cigarette and drew on it, this was not her first. "Most models smoked, even if they didn't admit it. How else do you think we stay so skinny?" she said as if sharing a scarcely known secret. She passed it back and thanked him quietly.

Looking at her now he considered her carefully, taking a long draw on the cigarette as he thought. "You and Vetor are very close."

It seemed she was unperturbed by this observation, which had likely been made by many people before himself. "We are. He's been my agent since I was sixteen."

"And the outbreak?"

"He was with me in Miami when it started, doing a swimwear shoot. Things went to shit pretty quick, we nearly didn't get out."

"Why's that?"

"Florida? Being surrounded by water on three sides pretty much had us trapped at the peninsula for weeks. From there we slowly made our way north, trying to get back to familiar grounds."

Understanding, Rick nodded his head as he listened. A long passage of silence passed, and then he asked a question that he knew was opening them up to sensitive territory. "Why was Vetor never your group's leader?" he enquired, curious as to how honestly she would answer. "He's older, wiser…it would make sense."

Lana shrugged, gratefully accepting the dwindling cigarette back and taking another draw. "There was a falling out early on. He was ousted."

"It's quite the feat for a twenty three year old. Leading a group, taking responsibility for their lives."

"Sure, I guess."

"It's just funny…I've always had the impression that although you were the leader, he's the one calling the shots."

He caught the glimmer of annoyance that crossed her face. Avoiding his comment, Lana changed the subject. "I've been wanting to talk to you about something," she began.

She drew on the cigarette once more and then passed it back. Taking the last draw Rick stubbed it out on the grill guard and then flicked it away. "Is this about Carrie?"

Lana hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "Not directly, but I'm sure she won't be happy with what I have to say."

"Oh?"

"That meeting is tomorrow," Lana reminded him, looking him in the eye to convey the importance of what she was telling him. "I want to go."

Rick sighed, this particular thorn in his side one he still hadn't decided how to handle. In less than twenty four hours the group the run crew had encountered last week intended to meet them at the Washington Monument. They were bringing antibiotics, a show of good faith before negotiating a trade relationship between their two groups. While on one hand Rick understood Carrie's reluctance to engage, on the other hand the idea of letting this opportunity slip by felt negligent. If everything was above board and this new group was trustworthy this would be huge for Alexandria. There was no point in denying that this was something they needed, that although they had been managing well so far, further years of isolation was going to make them weak. They needed to connect with another community…they needed to learn how other people had adapted to this world.

"Those people looked healthy. Dianne? Her hair was clean and neat, her fingernails were trimmed and filed. For Christ's sake, they were having a root in the midd-"

"A root?"

"Sex," she clarified her choice of word. "They were two healthy, clean people having sex in the middle of a supply run. They weren't concerned about what they did or didn't find. They're well off, and it's not just them. They have more than a small group of people."

"And you can tell all that from just their appearance and choice of activity?" he questioned, though he agreed with her observations. He was pushing her, trying to get a more in-depth opinion.

"Yes. They offered us a trade, it seems legitimate. I want to make this meeting."

"Just because it seems good, doesn't mean we go rushing in to things," he said. Reminding himself of all he had to be cautious of, he looked over at Ron. He still sat quietly with his headphones in, listening to his iPod as he sat by his father's grave.

"So, it's a no from you?"

"I didn't say that."

"A yes then."

"I didn't say that either," he clarified. "I said we're not rushing into this."

There was a long pause, Lana giving an impatient sigh. "Not to nag or anything…but the meeting is tomorrow. If there was ever a time to come to a decision, it would be now."

Though he understood her urgency, Rick's caution was not to be swayed. As they sat there in silence he once again milled over many of the options that had been in discussion, different scenarios hashed out over a late night nightcap with certain people. There was a general agreement that this other group could not be ignored, that they needed to get on the front foot of this relationship and ensure nothing took them by surprise again. Much to Carrie's displeasure, the consensus was that they needed to go to this meeting, if anything to learn more about these people. Tentative plans had been put in place for them to go tomorrow, but for now Rick had asked them to hold off on announcing it. Through their surveillance they'd overheard Lana talking about the meeting, that she wanted to join them but was unsure of how to approach it. Given this, Rick wanted to wait and see what she would do, if she would come to him about it. Finally the day before she had finally found the nerve.

"You want to take point on this?" he clarified, turning his attention back to Lana.

She nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I do. They know me already, I think they'll trust me."

"They'll trust you over Carrie?" he asked, though he knew the answer. He wanted to hear Lana's response, to see where her head was at right now.

"In a heart beat," she said bluntly. "She didn't exactly come across as friendly."

As he thought a little more he rubbed his hand over his jaw, reminding himself to shave some time. There could be more than one opportunity at play here, for although Lana had agreed her group would help with the quarry herd, he was conscious of the fact that they hadn't yet assimilated to life in Alexandria. Their initial predisposition to robbing the community blind was not lost on Rick, and though he knew Vetor wanted to use their work with the quarry herd as an opportunity to gain access to the armoury, perhaps Rick was going about this the wrong way. While he wasn't yet prepared to relent on that, perhaps this meeting in Washington was an opportunity to set something in motion…Lana needed more encouragement and opportunity to stand up to Vetor.

"I'll be there with you, but you can take point on this," he agreed thoughtfully, still mulling things over as he spoke. "You're going to follow the lead I set for you."

There was a long pause, but soon enough Lana gave a nod of agreement. "What lead is that?"

"We're going to be cautious, and we'll do this on our terms, not theirs. We'll do a no show at the Monument and keep them waiting, we'll watch from afar. We only show ourselves when they're about ready to leave."

"Why risk annoying them?"

"Because we're going to show them that this is on our terms, not theirs."

"Yeah, but…we're the ones who suggested the time and place. It's already on our terms."

"Even better," he said, turning to look at her. "When we meet with them you'll take the antibiotics, and set another meeting for one week after, back at the Monument again. Tell them we can trade some canned goods and clothing."

"What do we want in return?"

"We'll see what they come up with, try to gauge what they have and haven't got. The main concern is to not show our hand. You're not to tell them what we have, nor what we need. Wear the same clothes you were wearing when you met them last week, we need to look like we're scraping by I day to day. Go roll in some dirt before you go."

Lana laughed at this. "Yeah, sure."

"I'm serious," he said bluntly. "Go and roll in some dirt. You've already dropped the ball by telling them we need contraception. We have to protect ourselves by hiding how well off we really are."

"Okay, I get it. But Rick, I think these guys are legit," she said gently. "Not everyone is out to get us."

Feeling a pang of frustration, Rick paused before responding. Lana and her group had faced adversity, they too had fought both the dead and the living, but they'd faced nothing like what he and his people had. They knew nothing of what people of the world were capable of doing, of what someone like himself was willing to do with the right provocation. She still had much to learn, though he hoped she didn't have to.

"You're right, not everyone is out to get us. But not everyone will take you in, feed, clothe and house you either. You and I both got lucky the day we walked through the gates…don't ever forget that your luck can run out in an instant."

Lana raised her eyebrows at this, but only for a moment. "That feels like a threat," she commented. "Is it?"

"No," he said honestly. "It's a reminder."

"Anything else?" she questioned, sounding annoyed.

"Yeah, there is," he said slowly, considering his choice of words. "Vetor's not coming with us."

She seemed appropriately taken aback, and she looked at him incredulously. "Yes, he is. He's…he's my group, he has my back ou-"

"We will have your back," he cut her off, his tone of voice indicating this was non-negotiable. "You don't need him, and I want to see what you're capable of without him whispering in your ear."

There was a long silence now, the atmosphere between them awkward. She hadn't expected this to come up, for Rick to have such poignant insight into her relationship with Vetor, to the way she really led her group. Now he was calling her out on it, bringing into question they way she had led her group for all this time. Anxious to get home Rick checked his watch, disappointed to find that they had been here for little more than fifteen minutes. Choosing to give Ron at least another fifteen minutes before taking him home, he glanced at Lana from the corner of his eyes, sensing that she had more to say. He was right, for a few minutes later she quietly cleared her throat before speaking.

"The day Aaron and Daryl brought us to Alexandria, you met us at the gate. You were unshaven, wearing sweats and bare feet, and you had a pink glittery clip in your hair."

"Yes," he nodded, remembering clearly. The days then had been simpler, for although Carl was barely a month into his recovery a somewhat easy and consistent routine had been developed. The afternoon they arrived Rick had been sitting out on the grass with Judith, the two of them finger painting together after he endured an hour of her brushing his hair and clumsily trying to put butterfly clips in it. Unbeknownst to him she'd been successful with at least one.

"There was a whole crowd who met us at the gate, but no one in my group noticed you at first. No one noticed the way people stepped aside to let you through, the way they glanced at you to see what you're thinking, what you're going to do…but I did," she said softly, looking at him now. "I knew instantly that even though Deanna did the talking, you were the real leader in Alexandria."

"Just like you and Vetor?"

Lana nodded, no longer trying to disguise the nature of their roles. There was another long pause now, Lana looking around before turning back to him. "I'll agree to your conditions," she told him. "We'll play this meeting out the way you want us to."

Rick resisted the urge to tell her that he wasn't waiting for her agreement, that she was going to take his lead whether she liked it or not, but he held his tongue. So instead he said nothing, the two of them falling into silence as they waited for the time to pass. Another fifteen minutes went by, and just was he was about to tell Ron it was time to leave he got to his feet, negating the necessity of making him leave before he was ready. Just like the drive out they returned home in silence, Ron concentrating on his driving while Rick watched over him, making sure that he was paying attention to the Walkers that often wandered the road.

It should be easier to feel compassion for Ron, to be more understanding of the grief he suffered, but Rick struggled with that. It was unkind to think this way, but Ron's grief and desire to visit his father's graveside was just another nuisance Rick had to deal with from him. Ron knew that he was unwelcome in Rick's home, that he wasn't to have any interactions with Carl or Carrie while they extended the same courtesy. But with most people focused on the herd right now, he must have been pretty desperate to ask Rick to take him out.

Making it home in good time, Rick had Ron bring the car right into Alexandria, not wanting the teen outside the walls any more than necessary. Though they hadn't made an appearance in months, the spectre of the Wolves still lingered in the back of his mind, a dark shadow that loomed overhead. Pulling the car to a stop near the shipping container, Ron secured the handbrake and turned off the engine, but while Lana and Vetor got out he and Rick lingered. He felt like the teen was waiting for a moment of privacy, that he had something he wanted to share, and so he waited patiently. Clearly uncomfortable, Ron was clenching the steering wheel as he tried to summon the nerve, his lips parted.

"Thanks for taking me out," he mumbled, not looking at him.

"You're welcome."

A beat passed before Ron removed the keys from the ignition and passed them to Rick, then without another word he opened the driver's door and got out. Pocketing the keys, Rick did the same, lingering by the open door and watching as Ron unclipped his holstered gun from his belt and then left it on the hood of the car. He left without another word, his head bowed and his hands in his pockets.

"Everything alright?" Lana enquired, she too watching Ron departing.

Rick nodded. "Yes," he said dismissively, gesturing for the rifle she carried over her shoulder.

Though she handed it over without protest, Rick could see a flicker of determination in her eyes, and so he braced himself for another debate about the armoury. To her credit she allowed him to return the weapons in peace, and with the hope she would go away he took his time returning them, completing the details in the handwritten inventory that kept track of the comings and goings of their weapons. Later this week Olivia would catalogue it all into the spreadsheet she and Carrie worked on, noting that three weapons had been checked out and returned without a single round fired.

As he anticipated, Lana was waiting for him out on the pavement, and judging by the way he caught a glimpse of Vetor walking down the pavement to their townhouse she hadn't been waiting unaccompanied. Conscious of their complicated relationship, Rick reminded himself to be patient. She might be a thorn in his side, but Lana had plenty of her own thorns to contend with.

"You're not heading home?" she enquired.

"Not straight away." Having heard a familiar laugh he was heading towards the church.

"Let's reach a compromise," Lana suggested. "Let me have a gun safe in my house. One like yours."

Incredulous, Rick actually laughed at this suggestion. He had to give her credit where it was due, she was bold. "How is that a compromise?"

"You don't want me to have access to the whole armoury, fine. Give me just enough to make my people feel safe. A couple of hand guns and rifles, some ammunition."

"What for? So you can edit the pantry inventory and start siphoning off food and supplies?" he asked, confronting her head on. "So you can take off with it all in the middle of the night?"

Though she had to know that was coming eventually, Lana's expression soured. "Who told you?"

"That doesn't matter."

"Was it Mina?" she pressed, narrowing her eyes. She swore under her breath, using stronger words than he had expected. "That was months ago."

"I'm aware of that."

"It's not what we're doing anymore," she added.

"Isn't it?" he questioned boldly, coming to a stop. He looked her in the eye and held her gaze. "I know what your plan was…and I know Vetor still wants to do it."

Lana faltered at this, her jaw clenched and her expression sour, but to her credit she responded. "He and I have reached a compromise. I do what he wants, and he does what I want."

"I don't see how that would work."

"It's not going to be a problem anymore," she said slowly, enunciating every word. "I swear to you."

For a moment he looked at her in sympathy, but he wasn't willing to take the risk. With Pete he had compromised, he hadn't done what his gut told him to do, and Carl would pay for that mistake the rest of his life.

"You can swear to whoever to you want. You and your group will be supplied with your personal handguns, and that is all. It's not up for negotiation."

Leaving her behind Rick set off again, still able to hear a familiar laugh that was not far away. He was done arguing with Lana, and after the day he had he wanted to be with the people he loved. Moments later he came around the corner and saw them, his stresses easing as he looked at Carrie and his children. While Carl lounged back on the grass talking to Enid, Carrie was climbing onto the top section of the children's playground to help Judith. Not quite tall enough, she was constantly reduced to tears of frustration when she found she couldn't get down to the next level unassisted, and it was a constant annoyance to go up there and help her down. Nevertheless Carrie did it without complaint, and when she was helped down Judith strolled past her and across the bridge without so much as a thanks.

Hearing footsteps behind himself he looked around to see that Lana had followed him, that she still wasn't letting up. As she approached Rick waited impatiently, and there was a long moment of tension when he refused to back down. It was easy to forget that she was only twenty three years old, that maybe she didn't have the life experience to tell her when to let things go.

"What's her story?" she asked, gesturing to Carrie who was now chasing Judith around in the sand.

Rick raised his eyebrows, taken aback by this enquiry. The change of subject was abrupt. "Her story is not for me to tell."

"Fine. What's your story with her?"

Though it was a distinction without a difference, Rick felt that an answer of some kind was warranted, if anything to get Lana off his back. He understood her desire to learn more about Carrie, having first been the subject of her dislike and now a reluctant participant in an operation she had developed. Besides, he couldn't blame her for being curious and cautious about Carrie.

"We were on a supply run to Georgia, and we picked her up from the side of the road," he said, recounting the basic facts she would already know. "We brought her home with us, things went from there."

"And Pete? What happened with him?"

"He had a grudge against me. One that I underestimated."

Lana tactfully chose not to enquire any further, and though the subject had been dropped he was glad when she left a few moments later. Standing by the playground he shared a reassuring nod with Carrie, who of course had noticed she had been the subject of Lana's attention for the last few moments. She promptly returned her attention to Judith, helpfully assisting her to climb the rope ladder up onto the first level. Admiring the way she was with Judith he thought back to some of the comments he had overheard Lana making at various stages, the accusation that Pete's attack had fucked with her head particularly difficult to hear.

While on one hand he agreed to a certain extent, for that day had changed the lives of his whole family, Lana's accusation wasn't entirely justified. It was unfortunate that Lana could only judge Carrie under particular circumstances, that their main interactions were during the supply runs that Carrie admitted were hard on her. Lana didn't get to see the way she was normally, the strength she showed when she helped Carl with his recovery, or how she had learnt to tenderly love and care for Judith. Coming to Carrie's side his hand naturally slipped into hers, and he kissed her on the cheek as he said hello.

"Did everything go okay out there?" she asked.

"It was fine."

Always glad to hear it, Carrie let go of his hand and stepped closer, but he refused her advance, not letting her put her arm around his side. "What is it?"

"I'm filthy," he apologised, indicating to the state of his clothing. "I need to go home, take a shower."

Not having any of it, Carrie put her arm around his side and came closer, taking the kiss she had been seeking. He gave in and kissed her back, feeling that after the long day he'd had he deserved such an indulgence.

"Something's up with Carl," she commented, her tone conveying that she was worried. "He's been in a mood for the last few days."

Rick frowned, having thought Carl was in a good mood when he came home. "Something happen?"

"Sort of. He yelled at me after you left with Ron, about something stupid."

"He did?" he muttered, looking at Carl over his shoulder. "I hope you put him back in his place."

Carrie chuckled in amusement. "Yeah, I did. I read him a riot and then he apologised, but something's off. I was worried that infection might be back again."

"We'll keep an eye on him. It might just be a bad couple of days."

"What did Lana want?" she enquired changing the subject.

Regretting that the conversation was turning to Lana, he reluctantly answered. "She wanted access to the second armoury."

"And you said no?"

"I said no." He kissed her on the cheek and then made to leave, thinking longingly of the shower he needed to take.

"Wait," Carrie stopped him, her hand touching his elbow. "Tonight, let's take a walk together. Just you and me."

This got his attention. "Just you and me, all alone?" he asked suggestively. "A moonlit walk under the stars?"

Catching his suggestion, Carrie smiled and gave a nod. "Sure, if we must."

"I'll bring a blanket," he said, running his hand over her waist as he came closer. Glad she approved of his train of thought, he pressed his lips to her cheek and lingered a moment longer than necessary, enjoying the way she smiled knowingly.

* * *

Carrie's hand moved in a slow and steady rhythm, rubbing Judith's back as they cuddled together in the rocking chair, their bedroom dimly lit and the stereo softly playing some music. Laying against her chest with her fists clutched in her shirt, Judith mumbled her discontent as she slowly drifted off to sleep, her cheeks red and chin wet with saliva from the new tooth she was cutting. The molar in the back of her jaw had erupted through her gum earlier than expected, causing a great deal of discomfort for her.

It had been a long evening for them both, for as soon as they had come home from the park and settled into the less exciting tasks such as dinner, the discomfort had come back to her. That combined with being tired after a long and happy day at Deanna's house had quickly rendered Judith inconsolable, leaving her sobbing through her favourite dinner and into the bath. No amount of bubbles and toys were soothing her, and it seemed the only thing she wanted was to be held close. Though she was mostly quiet right now an unhappy whimper erupted in her throat every now and then, tears spilling from her eyes when Carrie wouldn't let her rub her mouth.

Trying to ignore the damp patch of saliva on her shirt, Carrie smeared a little numbing gel onto her finger and then slipped it into Judith's mouth, putting up with the way she spluttered until she realised it would help. Already they had been up here for an hour, and though normally she would have called for Rick to come and help her, she had persevered. Tonight, there was nothing he could provide that Carrie couldn't, an achievement that made her prouder than she would admit. Though she was in pain, Judith was perfectly happy with Carrie being the one to comfort her.

Though it was frustrating that she was still awake, Carrie had to admit that it was lovely holding her like this, feeling her warm little body snuggled up to her chest. Laying there in silence as Judith's eyes slowly drooped, she absentmindedly ran her fingers through her mousy brown curls. Not for the first time she wondered what her own child would look like, if they would have her straight blonde hair or Rick's darker curls…would it be a brother for Carl and Judith, or a sister?

With a long sigh Carrie readjusted her arm around Judith, tucking the little girl closer against her chest. The movement upset her for a moment, making her start to whine until she settled again. Unsure of whether it would settle her or keep her awake, Carrie picked up the book and began reading out loud again. She could read to Judith for hours without it feeling tedious, whereas Rick was a little more impatient, and apparently always had been. Though she normally would have read to Judith for as long as it took to settle her, tonight Carrie was exhibiting his impatience. She just wanted Judith to go to sleep, she wanted to take that walk with Rick…she needed to.

By the time she finished Green Eggs and Ham for a second time Judith was finally asleep, her eyes closed and her mouth ajar, still drooling a little. Nevertheless she wasn't confident that she would stay asleep, for now was perhaps the most difficult part of putting a baby down for the night, the act of putting her into the crib. Erring on the side of caution, Carrie slowly rose from the rocking chair and moved to the bed instead of the crib, doing her best to keep Judith still and undisturbed against her chest. It took every skill she had learnt from Rick to gently deliver the sleeping baby onto the bed, to successfully tuck her up beneath a blanket where she could remain until she was properly asleep. As she anticipated they would Judith's eyes burst open at the sudden change, but they just as quickly began to close again. There she stayed for a few more minutes, slowly extracting her arms inch by inch until she was free and Judith lay sleeping in the middle of the bed.

Silently cheering for her success, Carrie pulled off her saliva stained shirt and tossed it into the hamper. Thinking ahead and remembering what Rick had planned, that he thought their walk was to indulge in a romp beneath the stars, she swapped her shorts for a loose dress. Was it bad timing to tell him she was pregnant after they'd had sex, or was it ingenious? She supposed she was probably about to find out. It was a nice surprise that he had come home earlier than expected that day, and immediately she had felt a jolt of confidence. She poured him to drink to ease his worries, and after allowing him to take a shower and relax from the hard day he'd had, she was going to tell him. But it was as if she had tempted fate, for barely a minute after coming to this decision Ron had arrived, ruining it with immediate effect.

When she came downstairs she found Carl lounging on the single sofa with the carefree ease of a teenager, stifling a yawn while his attention was focused on the television. But when she came into the living room Carrie knew what she was going to find, so she wasn't surprised to find Rick sprawled out on the couch fast asleep, just disappointed. His arm was draped over the edge, fingertips touching the floor as a soft snore rumbled in his throat thanks to the awkward angle of his head.

Holding back a sigh of disappointment, Carrie came around the front of the couch and sat down on the edge. She had known all evening that he was tired, the shadows of exhaustion beneath his eyes reminding her that he had been working since before the sun rose that morning. Tenderly she brushed the curls off his face and ran her fingers through them, selfishly hoping that he would awaken, that he'd insist on taking that walk. But he didn't, and the awkward way he lay told her that falling asleep wasn't intentional, that he had tried to stay awake for her.

"Aren't you two going for a walk?" Carl asked, continuing when Carrie shook her head. "Just wake him up."

"No," she shook her head again, removing her hand from his hair and smoothing it down. "I'll let him sleep."

Carl just shrugged and turned his attention back to the television, but only for a moment. "Do you want a piece of candy?"

"We don't have any."

Carl scoffed at this, and then paused the DVD as he got up. "Maybe you don't."

Of course he had some candy stashed away somewhere. She ought to have known. "If you've got candy hidden in your room…" she warned as he passed her by. "Carl…"

"It's not in my room."

"It better not be. I'm going to clean it out tomorrow afternoon," she threatened playfully. "Just gonna get under that bed, sweep all the crap out into the middle of the floor."

"Go right ahead," he muttered, coming back into the living room and handing her half a piece of a Kit Kat finger. "Make my day."

She thanked him, not holding back the moan of delight she made when she slipped the small piece of chocolate into her mouth. As he sat back down and pressed play again she was certain she saw a flicker of amusement. For all his protests, Carl liked it when she teased and threatened him. She had learnt everything she knew from Michonne, who had often enjoyed marching into Carl's new bedroom and collecting all the mess in the middle of the floor for him to clean up. Rick had been right when he said that giving him his own bedroom would be good for him. After the injury to his face, moving into his own space had given him the privacy he needed to process the aftermath, and the independence to start getting on with life on his own terms.

"So, you're not going out tomorrow," Carl said, sounding rather cheerful. "What are we going to do all day?"

Carrie furrowed her brow and then corrected him. "I'll be going out with the first shift."

Carl looked at her strangely. "I thought it was too hot for you. Isn't that why you came home early today?"

"I'll take a hat this time."

His expression souring, Carl turned back to the television. "Whatever."

"What's the problem?"

"Nothing."

Hesitating, she glanced down at Rick and wished he were awake, that he could give some indication as to why Carl's behaviour had suddenly changed. "If there's no problem, then what's with the attitude?"

"No attitude."

Biting her tongue, Carrie considered him for a few moments, sensing that something was definitely not right. "Are you worried about the meeting in Washington?" she asked, voicing her own concern about it. She didn't want Rick to go there, she didn't want anyone to go.

"No."

"Do you want to come with us to the work site?" she suggested next, searching for the solution to his attitude. "The big section of the wall is going up."

This offer seemed to get his attention, and he raised his head a little and looked at her, but only for a moment. "No, it's fine," he muttered as he turned away.

He seemed rather dejected now, reminding Carrie of everything that had changed in the last few months. Before the attack Carl would have leapt at the offer to go outside the walls and help on a project, he would have already harassed and nagged Rick until he caved in and gave permission. But these days Carl lacked confidence in so many aspects of his life. Even if they were only going out to do some hard labour, Carl's first instinct was that he couldn't do it, that the task was now beyond his abilities and unattainable. His self-esteem had plummeted not only because of his altered appearance, but because of his struggle to regain his firearms accuracy. As soon as the latter struggle became apparent, all remaining confidence had disappeared.

"Will you look after Judith tomorrow, or should I take her to Deanna again?"

Carl took a moment to respond, and still he avoided eye contact. "I'll watch her."

She whispered a quiet thanks, and then looked down at Rick again. He was still fast asleep on the couch, remaining undisturbed despite the conversation and loud action movie that was playing. Wishing he was awake not just so that he could figure out what was wrong with Carl, but so that they could take that walk, Carrie leant down and kissed his forehead.

"Don't stay up too late," she said as she got to her feet and tossed a blanket over Rick.

He didn't even respond this time, making Carrie feel that he had definitely put her foot in it somewhere along the line. Things had been perfectly fine until that one moment when his tone changed, when he had asked her if she was going out the following day. She wished he had taken her up on the offer to come out with them, for it wouldn't take much effort to convince Rick to give his permission. He too wished that Carl would show a little more enthusiasm for the little things, having been surprised by his son's indifference to going outside the walls.

Judith was still sleeping when she went back to the bedroom, and so while she hung up the dress she had worn for ten minutes and then brushed her teeth Carrie let her stay there. Turning in for the night she settled onto the bed and started reading, finding escape in fictional problems that were not her own. It was closing in on ten o'clock by the time she moved Judith into the crib and then roused Rick from the couch, liking the way his eyes fluttered open before slowly pushing himself upright. While he sat there waking up enough to get to his feet, Carrie went on ahead of him, to tired to wait.

She was half asleep when he finally came upstairs, and though he tried his best to be quiet she did curse him for disturbing her. Awake now she listened to him brushing his teeth in the bathroom, looking forward to him joining her in the bed. It was strange going to bed alone, to be laying there without another person beside her. Just as it had taken time to get used to sharing a bed, it also took time to get used to being alone. A few minutes later he emerged again, lazily discarding his shirt and sweatpants onto the floor as he walked past the hamper.

"Pick them up," she said darkly, hating that he did that.

There was a heavy sigh as he did so, and only when she heard the sound of the clothes hitting the hamper was she satisfied. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath, and suspecting what it was she figured it was good that she didn't hear. After the honeymoon period of sharing a bedroom had faded they had soon begun finding conflict, bickering over little things like picking up clothes or the merits of squeezing toothpaste from the end of the tube versus the middle. Then again she did have to give him credit where it was due, for he never failed to close the lid on the toilet.

Having showered earlier he smelled clean and fresh when he collapsed onto the bed beside her, wearing only his underwear. Tolerating the way he noisily sighed and readjusted his pillow, she waited until he moved over and slung his arm around her hip, his stubble scratching the back of her neck. She placed her hand over his, and as she waited for him to get comfortable she touched her fingers to the slight indent on the fourth finger of his left hand. He hadn't worn his wedding ring since taking it off in June, but the tan line and slight indentation still remained, and she often wondered when it would come time for them to both wear rings given to them by the other. She knew it was on his mind, and she suspected he had an engagement ring hidden in the wooden box Carl had made him for Father's Day. Nevertheless she wasn't rude enough to snoop…was she?

"So…you wanna fool around?" he asked sleepily.

Carrie snorted in amusement, less than turned on by his half hearted attempt to come on to her. "Sure. Just try not to wake me."

It was he who chuckled now, his arm around her hip moving. Conscious of the way his forearm was slung across her lower belly she was paranoid that he might be able to feel the distinct curve, though it was unlikely he was paying any attention. Trying to make light of it, she wriggled a bit and moved his arm, but it was the wrong thing to do. Getting the wrong message, Rick kissed the back of her shoulder and then pulled away. He turned onto his front and got comfortable, and though it had been a little hot with him pressed up against her, Carrie missed the touch of his body. It was a luxury to enjoy, having always revered his embrace as they slept, even on the nights he sometimes snored.

She sat up and looked over at him, wrapping her arms around her knees as she thoughtfully considered her next move. Since telling Denise that she was pregnant she felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, only reinforcing how stupid she felt for not telling Rick sooner. Until now she hadn't realised how lonely it felt having a secret like this, how anxious it had been making her for the last month or so. Right now wasn't an ideal time…but was there every going to be?

"Rick?" she whispered, raising her voice a moment later. "Rick, are you awake?"

He lazily grunted in response, no doubt longing to fall into a blissful sleep.

"I need to talk to you about something," she said gently, resisting the urge to reach over and touch him, to shake him just a little.

"What?"

"It's important," she added, feeling her heart begin to accelerate.

"I'm lis'nin'."

For a moment she hesitated, having noted his impatient tone. "I'm pregnant."

A brief pause came to pass now, Carrie waiting with bated breath for him to sit up and look around at her, to question what she had said…but nothing of the sort happened. Instead he settled down into the mattress, slinging a heavy arm around his pillow as his entire body became lax with exhaustion.

"Rick, did you hear me?"

"Mmmm."

"I'm pregnant," she repeated, disappointed when his next mumble was even softer. "And Michonne and I are running away together…Rick?"

This time he didn't even bother trying to mumble a reply, his silence and deep breathing telling Carrie that it was a lost cause tonight. She sat there looking at him in disappointment, knowing she could shake him back into consciousness and insist on having this conversation. If she shouted _Walkers_ he would be awake in an instant, leaping to his feet and diving for his weapons, but she couldn't do that to him. She wouldn't be the woman who cried wolf about Walkers just to tell him she was pregnant.

Maybe he had heard her…he had responded after all, if a halfhearted groan counted as a response.

Her confession lingered in the air, filling the gulf of space that she could feel between them. Missing him though he was a foot away, she lay down and closed the gap, putting her arm around his waist ad snuggling up against his back. He had fallen asleep in what seemed like seconds, and he gave no discernible response to her embrace, but she didn't mind. Getting comfortable, she breathed deeply and enjoyed the way his body felt against hers, still disappointed that they weren't yet on the same page.

* * *

A/N - Next chapter, after a bad day Carrie can't wait any longer!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N A non-action chapter (they're to come, I cross my heart), but an important one nonetheless. Thanks for the great reviews, enjoy :-)

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Thursday September 4

When Rick rose from their bed the following morning Carrie's head was heavy with sleep, and she barely noticed his newfound absence beside her. Struggling to wake up she listened to the sound of him bustling around and brushing his teeth, but it was only when she felt the light thump of him transferring Judith into the bed that she began to properly rouse.

"Shhh," Rick said, trying to quieten Judith. "Got to Mom."

Cracking open her eyes Carrie watched as he impatiently nudged Judith towards her, avoiding her request for breakfast. Seeing that he was fully dressed and trying to put on his duty belt, Carrie gave a heavy sigh and then reached for their daughter, ushering her over for a morning cuddle. They had a hectic day today, with a major section of the wall being erected and the meeting in Washington. She was going out to Redding Road with the first shift, and from there Rick would go into the city without her.

"Thanks," he muttered distractedly. "I gotta go."

"I'll be up in a minute," she yawned in reply, enjoying the way Judith snuggled up against her chest. "Don't leave without me."

She didn't hear his reply, and when the room darkened again she knew he had left. Having slept poorly last night, Carrie closed her eyes for just a little longer, listening to the sound of Judith breathing and mumbling to herself as she waited. She just wanted five minutes, just a little more shut eye until she had to face the prospect of Rick going into the city to meet this strange group. But against her will she felt her body relaxing too much, not possessing the strength to fight the strong need to let her guard down and go back to sleep. It was warm and comfortable where she lay, content knowing that Judith was snuggled up in her arms, happy there with her mom.

Suddenly she awoke with a start, her heart pounding as she rubbed her tired eyes and looked around in the bed. Somehow she knew that something was wrong, her instincts alert and her body wrenching itself into consciousness to take immediate action. It took only a split second to realise that Judith wasn't there beside her, and so she sat bolt upright in horror. Seconds ago she had been right beside her, snuggled in close and sucking her thumb, but now she was gone…it had been seconds.

"Judy? Judy where are…"

Trailing off, she gave a weary sigh as she followed the trail of destruction around the bedroom. Toys were strewn about, the sheets pulled out of the crib and the hamper of laundry overturned, clean clothes hanging out of open drawers. Turning her attention to the walk in closet, Carrie narrowed her eyes at the sound of a mischievous giggle, and though her first instinct was to get angry she forced herself to stand down. She realised what had happened, and it wasn't Judith's fault. Berating herself for falling asleep and not rousing as her small toddler ran amok, Carrie hauled herself out of bed and headed for the closet, cringing when she saw that it was after eight o'clock. She had really dropped the ball this morning.

The double doors to the walk in closet were slightly ajar, and so she pushed them open and turned on the light. Her heart sank when she saw the mess, not at all endeared by the way Judith proudly stood in the middle of her destruction. She had thoroughly entertained herself while Carrie slept, having pulled clothes down from hangers and tossed shoes about, having a wonderful time as she played unsupervised.

"Judy," she grumbled in exasperation, though she wasn't to blame. "For God's sake, why would you do this?"

"Look!" she cried with excitement, rushing over and pointing to the empty coat hangers on the rack. "Look!"

"Yeah, I see it. Well done," she said sarcastically, bending down to start picking things up. She roughly hung up Rick's winter coat and then picked up something else, her temper rising when Judith lunged for the coat and pulled it down again. "Judy, stop. Judith!"

Increasingly frustrated, particularly given the way Judith seemed to laugh in her face about it, Carrie took a deep breath before going over and picking her up. She picked her up and put her down by the doors, but just as she was about to turn back to tidying up she stopped and looked at her. She scrutinised her for a long moment, trying to figure out what was wrong, and it slowly dawned on her.

"Where's your diaper?" she exclaimed in horror, only just noticing she was half naked. "Did you take your diaper off?"

Judith beamed in delight as she nodded, excitedly stamping her feet up and down. Before Carrie could do anything else she turned and raced out of the closet, and when Carrie saw her bare bottom covered in poop she felt tears welling up in her eyes. As Judith happily called for her to come and look she stood alone in the closet and let the tears fall, horrified with herself.

Learning to be Judith's mom had been a difficult learning curve, but never before had Carrie felt like a complete and utter failure. Even on the days when Judith cried upon Rick's departure, or the days when Carrie struggled to enforce the necessary boundaries for her, she had never failed as badly as she had now. Judith could have been hurt while she was running amok, she could have pulled a piece of furniture down on top of herself. But even though she was safe and uninjured, Carrie had still failed, she had neglected the care she was meant to provide. Judith's full diaper went unattended, her bare bottom soiled with poop and her stomach empty.

"Mom!" Judith called out. "Mom, look!"

Trying to get herself together, Carrie came out and followed her daughter into the bathroom, her heart sinking as her failure got even worse. Water was pooled across the floor, Judith splashing her feet in it as she proudly pointed to the overflowing toilet. It was stuffed full to the brim, water spilling down the sides until Carrie raced over and lifted the handle to stop it. Trying to hold back everything she wanted to shout she hastily began pulling out everything Judith had stuffed inside. She wrenched out Rick's soaking wet towel, some bath toys, two rolls of toilet paper, and then finally Judith's pyjama pants.

"Are you kidding me?" Carrie cried out in dismay, looking at the pyjama pants. She turned to Judith now, making the connection between the missing diaper, the pyjama pants and the toilet. "Did you put your diaper in here?"

Judith went silent, her face falling as she realised that she had done something she shouldn't have. Carrie took another deep breath and tried to soften her tone.

"Judy…did you put your diaper in here?"

There was a long pause, Judith looking at the toilet bowl in silence. Figuring she wasn't going to get anything out of her, Carrie set aside everything that she had tried to flush and then looked inside. She dared not pull down the handle to flush it again, fearing that the soiled diaper would be blocking the pipes…Christ, what was she going to do now? Having plumbed sewerage in Alexandria was just about as luxurious as it got these days. What if the flushed diaper ruined it for everyone?

"Judy…" Carrie started again, crouching down to her level and giving a pleasant smile. "Did you put your diaper in the toilet? Come on…you can tell me."

Still Judith remained silent, looking between her and the toilet bowl, not knowing what to do. Struck by how small and uncertain she looked, Carrie gave a bitter laugh as more tears of frustration fell down her cheeks, feeling like a complete failure. She wiped her hands dry and then picked Judith up, kissing her on the cheek and comforting her. She must have removed her diaper some time ago, for the poop left on her bottom was dried and crusted now, and hoping to rectify some of her neglect she removed Judith's shirt and turned on the shower. Holding herself together admirably she set about cleaning her up, wondering how she was going to explain all of this to Rick.

"Maybe next time you don't pull all of our clothes out of the drawers, or off the hangers," she suggested, lathering Judith's hair with shampoo. "Any maybe you don't put your diaper in the toilet? Okay?"

"Oh…" she said quietly, looking up at her with those sweet blue eyes.

As soon as she was cleaned up Carrie turned off the water, not letting Judith linger and play like she normally would. Splashing through the overflowed water and trying not to get any of it on the bedroom carpet, she rummaged around though the mess of clothing and managed to get Judith dressed, though brushing her hair and pinning the fringe out of her eyes would have to wait for later. She had absolutely no idea what to do about the diaper in the toilet, this type of life skill having never been considered important for her to know before the outbreak. Why would she learn how to unblock a toilet when she could pay a cleaning lady to do that?

"Carl," she called as she came entered the upstairs hallway, trying to laugh at her situation. "I need your help with something, but you can't tell your…Dad…"

She trailed off as she entered his bedroom, surprised to find it was empty. It was in its usual state of disarray, the bed unmade and clean clothes piled up in the corner, but Carl was no where to be seen. Taken aback, she looked into his bathroom and found it too was empty.

"Carl? Are you down here?" she called out as she came downstairs, her question echoed by Judith who also called her brother's name.

Looking around the kitchen and seeing evidence that three people had eaten breakfast and then departed, the plates and mugs in the sink and crumbs on the counter an easy give away, Carrie went straight over to their gun safe in the front closet. Upon opening it she found only her personal weapon, the Ruger that had been hers since Rick gave it to her at the prison six months ago. Beginning to suspect where Carl had gone she rummaged around in the closet a little more, looking for the small medical kit that he took with him on the rare occasions he left the walls. It too was gone.

"Thanks a lot, Carl," she muttered under her breath, slamming the closet shut. He told her last night that he was staying at home today, that he was going to look after his sister while everyone else went out to work.

Readjusting Judith on her hip, she grabbed her a cookie to tide her over until breakfast and then headed for the front door. While she had hoped to find Glenn had stayed at home for the day, she at least hoped that Maggie would be there, that even if she was busy with Herschel she might be able to tell Carrie what to do, but her luck didn't extend that far today. It was Eugene who opened Maggie's front door, who must have come to spend the morning there while Glenn was out working. As she stood there in her threadbare tank top and pyjama shorts, Eugene making no effort to hide the fact he was checking her out, Carrie wondered if this was going to be the lowest point of her day.

"Is Maggie here, I-"

"Shhh!" Eugene scolded her, looking over his shoulder as he stepped out the front door and then very slowly closed it. He turned around and looked at her, his eyes narrowed in disdain. "What the hell are you trying to do?"

"Excuse me?"

"There is a mother and a newborn baby in there, and at present they are sleeping like angels," he hissed. "As Herschel's Godfather, I have taken charge to ensure that nothing big or small effects a change in that serenity."

"You are not his Godfather."

"Not in an official capacity."

"Not at all!" Carrie said, cringing when he scolded her for her volume. "Maggie's asleep?"

"Yes."

Carrie sighed, weighing up her options. Most of the other people she trusted to help without making fun of her were presently out. Reg would be able to help her, but there was no way she was walking all the way to his house dressed as she was.

"Judith flushed a diaper down the toilet, and I don't know how far down it's gone."

There was a brief pause before Eugene's face lit up, and he realised what she was there for. He straightened his shoulders a little and smirked. "Are you seeking my assistance?"

"Yes," she replied tersely. "Please."

"What are you offering as payment?"

"Payment?"

"Might I suggest that the next time you and Rick find yourselves alone an-"

"No."

"Just one video camera, you won't-"

"No!"

"Can I listen at the door then? I'm very unobtrusive, just ask Rosita."

Carrie drew a deep breath, not at all in the mood to find Eugene's inappropriate request the slightest bit amusing. "How about I go in there and wake the baby? How about I blame it on you?"

"You wouldn't dare."

"My kid flushed her diaper…try me."

Eugene glanced at Judith now, who had been curiously watching the exchange. "Can I have a cookie?"

Carrie sighed. "Yes, you can have a cookie."

He turned back to her now, though his eyes dropped down. "I see you've already had your share of cookies," he commented as he walked past her.

Glancing down at herself, she blushed to find that her tank top had ridden up, that he had noticed the slight curve of her belly. Grateful that he had only associated it with cookies, she tugged it back down and then reluctantly followed him back home.

"What time did everyone leave this morning?"

On his knees in front of the toilet, Eugene was now elbow deep in water as he felt around the S-bend. He had located the diaper almost instantly, telling a relieved Carrie that it was stuck just barely out of sight. Cursing in disgust as small amounts of water found its way into the top of the long rubber gloves he was wearing, he was slowly trying to extract it from the pipe.

"Six fifteen," he answered, grunting impatiently and then looking up at her. "You know, a smaller hand such as yours will-"

"You want your cookie or not?" When he turned his attention back to what he was doing she continued. "Carl went with them?"

"I suppose so."

"You suppose so, or you know so?"

"He was with Daryl. May I concentrate on the literal task at hand now?"

Softly apologising, Carrie waited patiently as he slowly pulled the soiled diaper out of the pipe, the bulk of it emerging with a surge of dirty water that made him gag. So relieved was she that she didn't even care when he dumped the it on the floor in front of her, its waterlogged weight making quite the splash across her bare feet.

"Was that your doing?" Eugene asked Judith, pointing to the diaper.

She beamed at him. "Mine," she said proudly.

"Congratulations. That is a prime piece of poop," he said dryly, removing his gloves and then tossing them at Carrie's feet, followed by his damp tee-shirt next. To her horror he also removed his shoes and shorts, kicking them aside and remaining in only his Batman underwear. "If you fold those straight out of the dryer you won't need to iron them."

Given the filth they must be covered in, Carrie couldn't find it in herself to protest. "Thanks Eugene."

"I'll be taking two cookies for my efforts today," he announced as he departed, not even attempting to dry his feet before walking across the carpet.

"Don't forget to wash your hands."

Left alone with a soiled diaper at her feet and the bathroom flooded with dirty water, Carrie took a moment to take stock of what she had allowed to happen, what her brief neglect had caused. Yet even as the sense of failure grew and ate away at her insecurities, she felt a small amount of comfort as she looked at Judith. She was perfectly content, eating the last bite of her cookie as she proudly looked at the mess she had created.

"Judy Pie…we don't need to tell Daddy about this, okay?"

Unsure of whether or not she understood, Carrie resigned herself to getting on with things. Taking the priority, she went downstairs and set Judith into her highchair, preparing some breakfast for her before sneaking back upstairs to clean up. Grateful that Judith didn't try to offer her assistance, for a task always took twice as long when she helped, Carrie used her dry towel to clean up as much of the water as possible, putting all of the soiled linens into the washing machine. The sodden diaper however went straight into the Diaper Genie, vanishing the main piece of evidence that could be used against her.

It took her over an hour to clean up the mess, the bathroom reeking of disinfectant while spots of the carpet were damp with cleaning solution, Carrie unable to ignore Eugene's footprints. While Judith played downstairs, overlooked by Carrie with the baby monitor, she picked up all of the clothing and put it away, and though it wasn't as neat as she normally liked to keep their closet, today it would simply have to do. She'd had more than enough by the time she was finished, frustration that at ten o'clock in the morning she was still wearing her pyjamas.

The time was approaching eleven o'clock when Carl came home, acting as if everything was fine and oblivious to the fact that Carrie was unhappy with him. His face was alight with the type of satisfaction that came from hard but successful work, and though she was fuming that he had left after agreeing to baby his sister, she was glad to see that look on his face. For so long he hadn't been himself, it was a nice change to see.

"I'm getting dad a new shirt," he said, taking a swig of apple juice from the bottle before heading for the stairs, leaving the juice on the counter. "He's down at the gate if you want to see him."

Indeed she did, and while she resisted the urge to put the juice back in the refrigerator where it belonged she fetched the stroller from the front closet. She didn't care that Judith was happily playing with her toys, Carrie plucked her up from the floor and deposited her into the stroller, grateful that she only protested a little. Nevertheless she apologised, feeling bad that Judith was on the receiving end of her own bad start to the day.

Setting off for the gate Carrie mentally took stock of everything she wanted to say, every grievance with Rick that she wanted to air…and then she talked herself down. She wasn't going to be the bitch that laid every dissatisfaction on him moments before he left for the city, to go to a meeting that could prove dangerous for him. No matter how mad at him she was, she wouldn't allow herself to take her frustrations out on him.

Like always, the arrival of someone back in Alexandria had drawn attention, even though he was only there for a short stop. The car was parked just inside the closed gate, with Rick kneeling by the garden out the front of Bob and Natalie's house. Her first thought was that it was an odd time to be pulling weeds, but when she saw he had a fistful of dirt she realised what he was doing. He had come home only to bring Carl back before he left for Washington, for the meeting in which he needed to maintain a certain appearance. A fistful of dirt was quickly slapped onto the front of his jeans and across the toes of his boots, and with the remainder he lightly patted his face, leaving a fine dusting that gave him the appearance of someone just getting by. When she approached he looked up and a smile crossed his face, apparently unaware she was displeased with him for leaving without her. He waved at Judith, his smile growing when she cheerfully waved in return.

"How was your morning?" he asked, giving her a rough kiss on the cheek before rubbing some dirt into his forearms.

Carrie paused, choosing her words carefully. "Challenging."

Rick chuckled at this, giving her a sympathetic look. "Challenging, huh? Are you misbehaving for Mom?" he asked Judith. She grinned at him and then whined, tugging at the safety straps to tell him she wanted to be picked up. "Later," he appeased her. "I'll be home later."

As she waited for Carl to come back with a different shirt Carrie looked around. The comings and goings of the work crew was perhaps the most interesting thing that happened day to day in Alexandria, and although it was only a short visit Rick and Carl's arrival had drawn attention. People were sitting out on their porches, kids wandering down to say hello and look upon the grotesque Walkers they might glimpse through the open gate.

"So you're…you're going back to the worksite before you go to Washington?"

"Yeah, I was just bring Carl back. Everyone's waiting there for me," he nodded, looking himself up and down and then running his hands over each of his weapons, a habit of his. "Have you changed your mind about coming to the meeting?"

She grit her teeth at this, but she tried to watch her tone while also making her discontent clear. "You know, I did ask you to wait for me this morning."

Having turned away, Rick seemed to steel himself before turning back to her, having noticed her testy mood. "I came back to get you, but you were both asleep. Should I have woken you?"

"Yes."

"So you're coming to the meeting?"

"N-no," she said, having not changed her mind. She and Lana had been politely avoiding one another all week, they didn't need to ruin that by Carrie joining them on a run. "I'm not going to the meeting.

Pausing, she set aside her frustrations with the morning and collected her thoughts, having seen the opportunity that presented itself to her. Looking at him now she caught a glimpse into the immediate future, of the days and weeks of hard work ahead of them. Leaving before sunrise and coming home exhausted, only to do the same thing again and again for weeks, constantly surrounded by members of their group. The right moment wasn't going to come any time soon, last night had proven that. She had to try again, she had to tell him now even if the timing could be better.

"I'll catch a ride with you to the worksite, like I wanted to this morning."

There was a moment of hesitation on his part, likely realising that her unhappiness stemmed from more than his failure to wake her up that morning. She held her breath and hoped that he didn't make this hard, for the twenty minute drive out to the Redding Road intersection was the only immediate opportunity for privacy she could foresee, and she had to take advantage. It was bad timing given they'd only have a short drive, and that he had the meeting to contend with after, but she had to do it…waiting for the right moment was a luxury she could not afford.

"Okay," he readily agreed. "I'm sorry I didn't wake you this morning. You seemed tired, that's all."

 _God, why did he have to be so nice about it…and reasonable_. "Thanks," she said quietly.

Carl was making his way down now, carrying two shirts that he had pulled from the hamper. Although Rick hadn't protested her intention to go to the site and help out, she knew it would be different with Carl. He'd seemed so annoyed last night when she told him she was heading out, his attitude had changed in an instant. Though she wouldn't say so, she would't be surprised if Carl had been the one who convinced Rick to let her sleep in, if he had gone out of his way to ensure that she had to stay home while he went out.

"These are the worst I could find," he apologised, showing Rick the used shirts. "There's no blood on them, Carrie already washed those. This one I got from Daryl's hamper…it's pretty rank."

"Perfect," Rick decided, choosing the shirt with some suspicious looking stains. Taking off the one he wore now, which was too clean to maintain the pretence of just getting by, he slipped on Daryl's shirt instead.

"Carl? Can you take your sister for the rest of the day, please?" Carrie requested, leaning down and giving Judith a kiss on the cheek.

"Why?" he questioned.

"I'm heading out."

Just as she anticipated, his demeanour changed in an instant. "But why?" he protested, sounding affronted. "You're meant to be looking after her."

Carrie looked at him incredulously. "Actually, _you're_ meant to be looking after her."

Noticing their exchange, Rick frowned and watched them from the corner of his eyes as he d fastened the buttons on his shirt.

"Well, yeah…but-"

"What's the problem? I'm giving you an excuse to cut school. Or should I ask Carol?"

"Whatever," he muttered under his breath, coming forward and taking the stroller. The happy greeting he gave his sister was quite a distinction from the side glare he was giving Carrie.

She looked at Rick for support, increasingly angered by the way Carl was behaving towards her. Getting the hint he followed Carl a few paces and made him stop, and she watched on as they started talking. Carl's body language had softened now, standing down now that he was being chastised for his behaviour. Beginning to feel a little more sympathetic, she watched on as his shoulders slumped, but a few moments later Rick clapped him on the shoulder, and she knew everything was okay. They talked a few moments longer as Rick rolled the cuff of his sleeves up and then Carl departed, sparing Carrie a wave goodbye that didn't seem overly genuine.

"What was his problem?" she asked as they got into the car together.

"I don't know," he said wearily, settling into the driver's seat and setting his rifle into the footwell by her leg. "He's been fine all day. He's a teenager."

"Don't just say _he's a teenager_ like that's an explanation."

"It is an explanation."

Carrie shook her head, dissatisfied. "I told you yesterday, something's wrong."

"I know," he said apologetically. He started the engine and turned the car around, thanking Rosemary who was opening the gate. "I tried talking to him last night, but he…I fell asleep," he admitted.

"Yeah, I noticed."

Her tone seemed to remind him of the walk he had agreed to take with her, for he reached over and took her hand as he drove. "I'm sorry."

Immediately she felt bad for her tone, knowing how hard he had been working, how tired he had been last night. She apologised softly, squeezing his hand to let him know that it was okay. Looking at her watch she gauged the time it would take the run crew to get into the city and into position, to make it to the predetermined spot where they would be able to watch the other group get to the Washington Monument. Once they made it to the worksite where he was meeting the rest of the group there wouldn't be any time for them to talk in private. She needed to do this now.

"Everything okay with you?" Rick asked after they had been driving in silence for a minute.

Carrie paused, considering the merits of being completely truthful. "Judith tried to flush her diaper down the toilet."

To her relief Rick simply laughed, amusement reaching his eyes. "Did she really? I bet she was proud of that."

"Yeah, she was real proud actually," she said, her stress easing with his surprising reaction.

"She probably thought she was trying to help you out."

"Oh yeah? She helped me out by trying to flush her pyjama pants, two rolls of toilet paper, bath toys and your towel."

Rick frowned and looked around at her, and this time he was clearly curious as to how that had happened.

"It's a long story," she said off handedly, not wanting to tell him she had been asleep at the time. There was only so much she felt she ought to admit. "Everything's fine now, Eugene got the diaper out for me."

"Don't be hard on yourself. Carl found Lori's nail polish once and painted with it all over the walls, all over the carpet," he said, smiling despite the unfortunate story. "We were renting, and it cost me more in paint than it would have to lose the deposit."

Carrie chuckled, imagining sweet little Carl having a wonderful time spreading nail polish everywhere.

"I'm sorry we left without you this morning," he said sincerely, glancing at her as he drove. "It wasn't a snub, I just didn't want to wake you."

Muttering her forgiveness, Carrie still wished he had awoken her. She allowed herself to delay for a few more moments, looking at him from the corner of her eye as she worked herself up to it. Rick knew that something was wrong, he'd known for weeks that she'd been out of sorts…once she broke the news to him, this was his problem too. She couldn't take it back once she told him, she couldn't relieve him of the burden.

"I need to talk to you about something."

She looked at him expectantly, but when he failed to acknowledge what she said she questioned whether or not he had heard her. Just as she was about to repeat herself he glanced at her, giving her a nod of encouragement. Just as quickly he turned his attention back to the road, reminding her of why this was such terrible timing on her part. Nevertheless she had started, there was no backing out now.

"I'm pregnant."

His reaction was underwhelming, and though she had braced herself for the car to swerve or him to look around in surprise, nothing of the sort happened. Instead he kept his eyes on the road, his lips pressed into a thin line as he took in what she had just said. She held her breath as she waited, watching him nervously until he finally glanced at her.

"So, uhh…I wasn't dreaming last night?"

She released a slow breath, realising he had indeed heard what she said after all. "No. You weren't dreaming."

Giving a short nod of acknowledgement he strummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "Pregnant," he muttered, testing the word in his mouth. He focused on the road ahead, his lips moving as he repeated the word under his breath. He gave an awkward laugh now, but no amusement reached his eyes. "So…that one time, huh?"

Glad he had made the connection, that he recalled the only time they'd ever taken a risk, Carrie nodded. "Yeah, that one time."

"I have to say, I err…" he started, apparently struggling to piece together a sentence. "I'm not really surprised."

"You're not?"

He shook his head. "I've noticed you haven't been drinking recently," he said. "And that you haven't been feeling your best."

"No, I haven't been."

There was an awkward pause now, Rick giving a heavy sigh as he tried to relax his fingers on the steering wheel. Restless, he reached for the controls on the console and turned up the air conditioning a little. "So, how long until…" he started, trailing off as he sought different words. "How far along are you?"

She hesitated, the number of weeks still feeling intimidating. "About thirteen weeks now, give or take. Due in March."

He didn't say anything to this, and a long and uncomfortable silence fell about the car. The wait for him to say something was excruciating, and she watched him expectantly, trying to read the blank expression on his face. She needed to know what he was thinking, how he was feeling, but he was giving nothing away. As if they were talking about nothing more interesting than he weather, most of his attention seemed to be focused on the road, as if she hadn't just given him news that was going to change their lives in every way. Wishing he would at least look at her she cracked and started babbling at him, trying to get everything out, to explain to him what had happened.

"I'm sorry…I-I didn't mean for this to happen," she began, the weight of stress returning. "The day we…I was going to ask Denise for the pill, but then everything happened. I just lost track. We were just so focused on Carl, on if he was going to…Rick?" she said, needing him to respond. After another brief silence she could wait no longer. "Rick…please could you just say something?"

When he turned his head and looked at her she knew he heard every word she said, that he had been listening. Finally he was giving something away, his plain expression telling her that he wasn't mad, he wasn't upset. Instead he looked resolute, wearing the same expression he would if she had just told him it was his turn to take the trash out.

"Carrie," he began calmly, glancing back at the road as he spoke. "We'll handle this."

It was exactly the response she most anticipated, and just like she knew it would, it annoyed her. "We'll handle this? You make it sound so simple."

Rick looked at her sympathetically, making her remember that this wasn't the first time a woman had unexpectedly told him she was pregnant. "It is simple. We'll handle it."

Before she could stop them, tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. It made no sense that his calm reaction annoyed her, that she would have preferred him to be scared and angry like she was. "I'm _pregnant_ , Rick."

"I heard you."

"Pregnant," she said loudly, her voice beginning to waver. "I'm going to have a baby."

He shook his head and then reached for her hand, squeezing it supportively. "No," he corrected her. " _We_ are going to have a baby."

"W…what?"

" _We_ are," he emphasised, looking her in the eye. "We are having a baby."

Though she understood the distinction he was trying to make, that he was trying to convey his support, today it was destined to fall on deaf ears. It was not at all comforting, it didn't change the uncertainty of the future they faced, it didn't change the vicious and cruel world they were going to bring an innocent child into.

"Carrie, I…" he started, trying to find the right words. "I can't say that I haven't thought about this happening. We talked about it."

She nodded in agreement, struggling to get the words out. They had indeed talked about this a while ago, before she even considered the possibility that she might be pregnant. Rick told her with all sincerity that although he was content with his two children, he was willing to give her one of their own if that's what she wanted. She told him it wasn't, that she didn't want to become a mother to any further degree than she was to Judith and Carl, and she meant it. Now those words were coming back to haunt her, making her feel ashamed of herself now that she was pregnant after all.

"We can do this," he told her confidently. "Trust me Carrie, we can do this."

"Is that what you said to Lori?" she asked, and then immediately realised the cruelty of what she said. "Oh fuck…shit."

"It's okay."

"I didn't mean that," she said quickly, gripping his hand tightly. "Honestly, I-"

"I know," he said, looking at her for a moment. He considered her, taking note of her wet eyes before he had to turn his gaze back to the road. "You've known for a while, haven't you?"

She nodded, looking away in shame. "I found out in July, just after Christmas."

"July…" Rick muttered with a low breath, taking it in. "That's a long time to handle this on your own."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was just trying to…to figure out how I was feeling. I wanted to pretend it wasn't true," she said, more candid than she had expected herself to be.

"Have you been to see Denise yet? Have you got some prenatals?

"I got some of those straight away," she answered, not going into detail about how she'd joined the run crew for that reason. "And I saw Denise last weekend."

"I'm glad," he assured her, not sounding too perturbed that she had gone without him. "Does everything look okay? The baby's alright?"

As she pondered his question a small smile crossed her face, one she couldn't hide. She looked at him now, glad when he saw her smile and echoed it. "I didn't look at the ultrasound. I wanted to wait for you," she said, again not going into too much honest detail. "But I listened to the heartbeat. It sounded good."

Rick smiled even more now, a glint of happiness reaching his eyes. Though he looked back at the road, he released her hand and reached for her lower belly. He could barely feel her changing shape through the waistband of her jeans, but the gesture alone spoke volumes. "We'll go to Denise again. We'll look at the ultrasound together."

She nodded, not knowing what to say. He had taken the news exactly as she had expected, calmly and thoughtfully reassuring her. Though it took a little while, the relief hit her now. She couldn't remember why she had delayed telling him in the first place, feeling foolish for trying to handle this on her own. The relief she felt was insurmountable, the burden of her secret immediately vanishing.

"I don't want to tell anyone else yet."

He seemed a little taken aback by this. "At thirteen weeks it would be okay."

"I know…but I'm just not ready for the questions, for everyone to be talking about it. I don't want to tell anyone."

Though he nodded, she could tell he wasn't happy about her wishes. A few moments passed, Rick mulling over his thoughts until he was ready to voice them to her.

"We have to tell Carl," he stated, his tone conveying the importance of this. "We can't make the same mistakes twice. _I_ can't make the same mistakes twice," he corrected himself. "Everything went so wrong when he found out about us. We need to make sure that doesn't happen again."

Understanding, she reluctantly nodded her agreement. "Alright, we'll tell him. But only him."

"We don't have to do it straight away, but soon. You'll be showing before you know it."

Before she could help it she was lifting her tank top and then pushing down the waistband of her jeans. "I think I already am, just a little," she said, showing him. "No one else can tell though."

"I thought so," he smiled, looking at her belly. Like before, he brought his hand to her and touched her properly this time, the touch of his hand against her skin another reassurance that everything was going to be alright.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

He laughed now, glancing at her as he held his hand against her. "Because I'm not stupid."

Copying his small laugh, Carrie sighed as she placed her hand over his, enjoying the peaceful silence that came over the car. She may have just delivered life changing news, but the world had not come crashing down…everything was going to be okay. There would still be the stress of telling Carl to deal with, but it was a relief to know that she wasn't dealing with this alone anymore, that she had Rick to lean on. They wanted to be that person for one another, a source of comfort and relief for the hard times. While she knew he would have taken this well, she had to admit that she was surprised by how well he was handling this, by how calm his reaction was.

"March, huh," he muttered, reluctantly taking his hand back when he needed to turn a corner. "We got six months."

"Yeah…six months."

"Will you let me take you home?"

Carrie looked at him in exasperation, annoyed that this topic was coming up so soon. "No. I want to help. I helped put this plan together, I need to see things through."

"It's not that simple now. You're pregnant…you've been doing supply runs," he added, though not too accusingly.

She understood what he was trying to say, that he was conveying his disapproval of her choices as gently as possible. "I helped put this plan together, I can't expect anyone to follow my lead if I'm not there beside them."

"It's a lot of manual labour, and in this heat? You shouldn't be doing that if you don't have to."

"I can help out in other ways," she argued gently, standing her ground. "I can take watch, I can hand out water…but I asked these people to follow my plan. I owe it to them to be there."

There was a long silence, Rick clearly displeased with the fact that she had already come to this decision without him, that she wasn't hearing him out. He opened his mouth to say something else, to keep arguing his point, but a moment later he seemed to reconsider. Knowing him well she suspected that he was weighing up his options, that he was choosing which battle he needed to fight the most. She was right.

"The day we move the herd…I want you to sit that out," he stated, his tone leaving little room for argument. "I don't want you involved that day at all."

"Rick, I-"

"Please," he said emphatically, looking at her. "Do this for me, at least this."

"I was going to say that I will."

Surprised, he looked at her with skepticism. "You'll sit out that day?"

She nodded, knowing that this was the right decision, whether she liked it or not. "The plan doesn't hinge on my participation. We just need to make sure that there are enough of the right people in the right places. That way it won't matter that you're one short."

"Yes," he agreed, cautiously pleased. "Thank you."

Satisfied with her agreement, Rick seemed to turn his attention back to driving, though she knew her news occupied his thoughts. They travelled in silence now, and although she still felt there was a lot unsaid, she knew they had time. The first step for them was to go and see Denise, for Rick to seek her assurance that all was well, for them both to see their baby. Then they needed to tell Carl, and soon. It was this thought that sent Carrie's stomach into knots, fearing that the news wasn't going to be taken well. Carl had so much on his mind right now, he was still very much adjusting to the new life he faced. He had needed Rick's attention the last few months, he had needed the consistency and predictability of their more settled lifestyle. Telling him that she was pregnant was going to uproot all of that for him, it was going to create uncertainty and disruption.

In no time at all they had arrived at the Redding Road intersection, the buzz of activity a stark contrast to the lifeless road behind them. Just like the day before, people were filling sandbags and passing them along a production line, while others were slowly but surely erecting the large panels that would direct the herd to the right. Driving carefully past their people they made their way to the other side of where everyone was working, where the run crew were waiting in Tobin's battered old pick up. Though uncomfortable to ride in, it's battered appearance and broken passenger window conveyed the message they wanted to send, that Alexandria wasn't as well off as they really were. Lana was sitting in the back tray, a scowl appearing on her face when she saw Carrie in the truck. No doubt she worried that Carrie was accompanying them on the run into the city.

As they pulled to a stop behind the truck Rick reached over and took Carrie's hand in his, the small gesture asking her to stay a moment. Neither of them rushing to get out they looked at one another for a few moments, still comprehending the magnitude of the news she had shared. This had been a huge moment for them, and the gravity of their uncertain future was not lost. Entwining their fingers, Rick raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

"Everything's going to be okay," he said sincerely. "We can do this."

Carrie struggled to find the right words to say, feeling them catch in her throat. Instead she just nodded, clenching his hand when he started to pull away. "Thank you," she said quietly, the few words not even beginning to sum up the gratitude she felt.

Not caring that Lana was probably watching them, she moved over in her seat and leant towards him, glad when he did the same. They shared a gentle kiss now, Carrie revelling in the familiarity of his touch, his smell. It was exactly what she needed in that moment.

"I love you," she said, feeling that it had been too long since she told him that.

"I know." He kissed her again and then pulled away, looking at her fondly as he brushed her hair off her face. "I love you too."

They couldn't linger any longer, and so with one last kiss they reluctantly parted, letting go of one another's hands before getting out of the car. Arming herself with the rifle Rick had placed in her footwell, Carrie stepped out into the heat and tried to leave the conversation behind. Like the day before the heat out here was going to make for a difficult day, and remembering Denise's advice she started looking around for a role she could take that would keep her out of the sun. She was in a tricky position right now, not wanting to share with people the news that she was pregnant, but not wanting them to perceive her as lazy for avoiding the tough manual labour.

"Go take over from Barbara," Rick requested, gesturing to where she sat on top of a vehicle keeping watch. "I'll ask Glenn to let you stay th-"

"Don't ask Glenn anything," she implored him, handing over the rifle he had brought with them. "I'll take care of me. You take care of you…of all of us," she said, acknowledging the importance of what he was doing today. Regardless of whether she wanted them to go to the meeting in Washington or not, today was important.

Rick seemed hesitant at this, much preferring to take steps himself to ensure that she would be alright out here, but to her satisfaction he chose to trust her judgement. He took the rifle with thanks and then kissed her on the cheek, a quiet murmur reassuring her of what he said earlier, that everything was going to be alright. As he pulled away she placed her hand on his shoulder to stop him, stealing a proper kiss and resisting the urge to extend it languidly.

"Be safe out there," she said to him, turning to the rest of the group going. "Good luck guys."

Lana jumped down from the rear of the truck, looking significantly happier now that she knew Carrie wasn't joining them. "Let's go," she said loudly, rounding up their group and directing them to the truck. She looked at Carrie a moment longer, neither woman bothering to hide their disapproval of the other.

"Not you," Rick said bluntly, gesturing to Vetor who sat in the rear tray. "You're stayin'."

Carrie frowned, her lips parting in surprise at his abrasive tone of voice. Vetor too appeared to share her surprise, and after looking at Rick in disbelief he turned to Lana who was getting into the driver's seat. He said something to her, but she simply shrugged her shoulders and gestured to Rick, and without another word she got into the truck. There was an awkward pause before Vetor slowly got to his feet and climbed down from the rear tray, his place taken by Rick who took Daryl's hand to climb up. The engine started as Michonne and Tara climbed into the front while Rick and Daryl settled into the tray, preparing themselves for a bumpy and uncomfortable ride into the city.

Still taken aback by his abrupt dismissal of Vetor's company, Carrie watched on as the group left without delay, the others around the worksite waving in farewell as they departed. In disappointment she watched them leave, her gaze focused on Rick's shrinking figure until the truck disappeared around the bend, and it was then she breathed a sigh of relief. He might be heading to a potentially dangerous encounter with a group of strangers, but in spite of this Carrie allowed herself to find comfort in what had been achieved. Although there was still a secret to keep from the others, finally she had told the most important person that she was pregnant. He had taken it as well as she had expected him to in front of her, and though she had no doubt that his true feelings would be hidden from her and processed in private, she took comfort in the fact that it was no longer a secret between them.


	9. Chapter 9

The dull roar of Tobin's pick up truck was what Rick tried to focus on, the way the wind whipped through his hair, every uncomfortable bump and vibration he endured as he road in the rear tray. It was that he paid attention to, that which he tried to focus his attention on…anything was better than acknowledging the impending sense of doom that was coming over him right now. His stomach was twisting into knots, an unexpected bout of nausea tempting him into asking Lana to stop the truck for just a minute. The day was warm yet his body felt cold, numb with shock and disbelief…in hindsight he felt foolish for wishing this would happen. Wanting a baby with someone was infinitely less complicated than actually having one. It had been just a fantasy, a place he let his mind wander to anytime he started wondering what might be. But now it was happening, wishful thinking having backfired on him by turning into reality.

For weeks now he had wondered if Carrie might be pregnant, filling the quiet hours by searching for the evidence and stringing it together…but he hadn't really expected it to be true, had he? They'd only had unprotected sex once, they'd risked it just once. Surely it hadn't happened to them…surely they couldn't be that unlucky. But even as he wallowed in how unfair it was, his mind cast him back to when he was a teenager, to the day his father had drilled into him how easy it was to have an unplanned pregnancy. At the time it had seemed like one of the most important lessons he had ever imparted…a lesson Rick had apparently forgotten.

Though he and Carrie had both agreed contraception was a shared responsibility, the onus had always been on her to keep their supply of condoms current, a decision reached with the understanding they didn't want Carl accidentally finding them. When they left the celebrations on Father's Day it hadn't occurred to him even once that he might need to check they had what they needed, that he ought to do his part of being responsible. But even though Carrie was the one who had forgotten to get more condoms in the midst of their separation, Rick couldn't blame her for the oversight. He ought to have known better, he ought to have taken better care to look after her, to do his part to make sure this didn't happen.

He felt incredibly stupid for what he had done, for the risk they had taken. It was stupid of them both, but irresponsible of him to suggest it in the first place. This was not the first time him taking risks had resulted in an unplanned pregnancy, and though he loved his children regardless, he had always intended to do better next time, to take better care. Up until that one time, he and Carrie had been the epitome of responsibility. Neither of them wanted to face an unplanned pregnancy, particularly given the uncertain state of their relationship in the early days. It was something she had always made clear to him, and still he suggested they risk it. No matter how he tried to rationalise it, he felt responsible for the state they found themselves in.

While he was glad he managed to keep his shit together in front of Carrie, he also knew that it wasn't to last. As they settled into silence his mind started racing, every fear and horrible possibility presenting itself to him in those few brief minutes. All of a sudden it wasn't so easy to keep it together, to maintain the facade of the supportive and confident father to be. He was glad when they made it to the worksite with his demeanour still in tact, for there he was able to focus his attention on something else, to make sure she wasn't privy to what was really going on inside his head.

"Oi, Rick."

Hearing Daryl calling his name he looked to his left, his body lurching automatically when he saw the pack of cigarettes he was holding.

"Yah wan' one, or you givin' up this week?" he shouted over the roaring wind.

Without hesitation Rick gestured for one. "I've given up," he shouted back, gratefully plucking one of the prized cigarettes from the packet. Taking the lighter too he sat back and lit it, grateful for the taste of tobacco he hadn't realised he was craving. He started to feel his stresses easing ever so slightly, reminding him of why he had struggled to give this up completely in the wake of Carl's injury. Though he'd significantly cut back, there were still times when he snuck out to _do rounds_ or check on the horses, times when he was really standing behind the greenhouse with a cigarette in hand.

Cupping it in his hands to prevent the wind blowing it out, he glanced at Daryl from the corner of his eye. There was no doubt in Rick's mind that he had noticed something was wrong, Daryl having always been more perceptive than people gave him credit for. He'd known Rick was cutting back on his smoking, and wouldn't have offered him one hadn't he looked as stressed as he felt today.

"Everythin' alright?" he asked, his concern not unexpected.

Rick nodded. "It will be," he said, these words more for himself than for Daryl.

Knowing when to leave it alone, Daryl focused his attention back to the run. Turning around where he sat, he kept the cigarette low as he faced forward, his hair whipping back as he leant over the side of the truck and watched the road ahead of them. Rick on the other hand stayed as he was, leaning against the back of the truck's cabin lost in his thoughts. He wished they would get to their destination already, that he didn't have to sit idle in the back of the truck and wait. Getting up and doing something would make everything easier, it would let the jumble of thoughts and worries fall comfortably into place.

The possibility that their life in Alexandria was not forever was constantly on his mind, and the idea of uprooting his family and living on foot again never got easier to comprehend. What if Carrie ended up in the same position Lori found herself in? What if she found herself heavily pregnant with barely enough to eat, her body wasting away as it tried to support the child growing inside her? The notion that he might responsible for that horrified him. He owed Carrie more than that for their life together, he owed their family more.

Dwelling on the reality of it all, and barely even getting started on their future that consisted of sleep deprivation and another infant solely dependent on them, Rick's stomach turned as he thought about Carl. His son had been through so much recently, and soon Rick was going to upend the quiet life their family had settled in to. Things were going to change, and when Carrie's pregnancy progressed and the baby was born Rick would have less time to spend with the child who needed him so greatly. Slowly Carl was starting to regain his confidence, the crucial trust in himself that had to be carefully fostered…would the baby ruin all of that?

Noticing the scenery changing, Rick rubbed his hand over his face and tried to shake his thoughts, to get his mind on track. They were getting closer to Washington, and given the uncertainty of what they were soon facing the situation required his full attention. A glance at his watch assured him that they had plenty of time up their sleeve, but that wasn't reason to relax, to let their guard down. They might encounter any number of obstacles in the city, and they might not be the only party arriving early.

Avoiding the major roads lest their approach be seen, Rick struggled to keep track of where they were, forced to trust that Tara and Michonne in the cabin were keeping track. Keeping west of the city they made their way through Arlington and then crossed the river, entering the historic district of Georgetown. The last time he had come into the city was the day that Noah had been killed, the day Nicholas abandoned Glenn and Carrie in order to save himself. With his attention focused on quickly finding his people and bringing them to safety, Rick hadn't paid much attention to the city itself, hadn't given it more than a cursory glance. Today being a passenger he had the opportunity, and so he took advantage and scanned the city. Though he'd seen many abandoned towns and cities in his time it was particularly disheartening to see the state of his nation's capital, the place that had once represented power and strength. Now it represented only death and loss.

The truck slowed down as they entered the city streets, forcing Rick and Daryl to move closer together, protecting themselves from any Walkers that might reach over the sides. Automatically looping their arms they held one another steady, keeping themselves safe as the truck bounced over corpses and obstacles and roughly veering around corners. As they made their way through the city centre Rick tried to gauge just how dangerous it was in general, wondering if one day in the coming months he might risk bringing Carl here. He'd never been to Washington, he'd never seen the Lincoln Memorial or the Washington Monument, and Rick didn't want him to miss out on one day seeing them. It would be good for him to get out of Alexandria, to confront the world outside the walls now that he was recovering from his injury.

Heading east on Constitution Avenue, Rick checked his watch yet again. They still had plenty of time up their sleeve. The truck slowed as Lana brought them to a stop, strategically choosing a place where their vehicle would be overlooked among the other abandoned cars and overgrown trees. Despite this, it was quickly apparent that they would still have an adequate line of sight to the Monument not far away.

Climbing out of the rear tray, Rick and Daryl swiftly took down the nearest Walkers as the others filed out of the truck. Though he had looked them over before it was just a cursory glance, and so when Michonne, Tara and Lana filed out of the truck's cabin he carefully scrutinised them, glad that the latter two were wearing the clothes that had worn the day they met these people a week ago. Everyone looked suitably dishevelled and unkempt, not unlike their appearance the very day that arrived in Alexandria. They were going to make the right impression…he didn't mind that this group might think them to be weak enough to be taken advantage of. He knew what his people were capable of. Presenting themselves as they did today was going to tell them a lot about the way this other group operated, if they were the type to take sympathy on others who were struggling, or if they would take advantage.

"Everyone knows how we're playing this?" he asked, addressing everyone. He looked at Lana expectantly, for she was the one who was taking the lead.

"We got this," Lana assured him, having already taken the confident stance of a woman ready to lead.

There seemed to be no hesitation on her part she took charge and let Rick fall into a more subservient role. She organised this meeting, she had the rapport with these people…Rick was simply there to observe both Lana and the other group. Without being perceived as the leader, he would be able to stand back and take it all in, to observe their interactions with one another and with his group. Following Lana's direction they stepped into position, keeping a watchful gaze in all directions as they waited. It had of course crossed Rick's mind that this might be a trap, that these people may be opportunists and his group had been lucky to escape them the first time around. Although they hadn't been described as anything like that, he knew appearances could be deceiving. The Governor was welcoming and charismatic when he wasn't attacking them, while Terminus had been a precious drop of water in the desert.

Without warning he was suddenly struck by a strong sense of longing, by the overwhelming need to go home to his children, to Carrie. It was important that this meeting went well, that they make the most of whatever opportunity was presented to them, but it was also a huge risk. Anything could happen to them out here, and every day they faced the possibility that they might not come home to their families. But today that thought felt particularly dark given the news he had received, that he was to be a father again.

He started to think about Lori, recalling the stark contrasts between each of her pregnancies. Aside from the spectre of a scheduled cesarian hanging over them, her pregnancy with Carl had been smooth and relatively comfortable. They'd rejoiced over the impending birth of their first child, Rick refused to let her carry groceries in from the car and never questioned it when she ate hot mustard on toast for dessert. Judith was the exact opposite, her impending birth filling them with trepidation while Lori passed the days helping them scavenge for food or find shelter, always short of breath and her stomach empty. With her second pregnancy, she ate hot mustard from the jar out of necessity, not to fulfil a craving.

It went without saying that he wanted Carrie's pregnancy to be different, for her to be comfortable and well looked after for the duration and thereafter, but although they were better off than they had been with Lori, life still was not perfect. Their gardens were abundant but their food was strictly rationed, iron enriched meat a luxury afforded to them maybe once a week. He wanted her to be able to stay at home with her feet up and her stomach full, not out working in the heat to help prepare for the herd evacuation.

Still dwelling on things, Rick tried to remember how much baby formula they had at their disposal. They had plenty of toddler formula, Judith drinking that purely to keep her calorie intake high, but as for newborn formula? He couldn't recall how much they had managed to scavenge. If something happened to Carrie, would the baby survive with what they had? Would Maggie be able to adequately breastfeed both a newborn and an eight month old? Would they have enough medicine or supplies to keep it healthy? Would…

Would they have a boy, or a girl?

Unable to help it, a small smile began to cross Rick's face, his heart rate increasing at the mere thought. Until now it hadn't really occurred to him that he and Carrie would be giving Carl and Judith another sibling. In his mind he pictured Judith sitting at the table with another faceless child, sharing her breakfast with them the way Carl used to share his with the dog. He pictured them fooling around together, fighting over toys in between the quiet moments of happiness. Carl would have another brother or sister to help raise, to love and care for…and Rick would have another child. It felt strange that it took him this long to see that potential in their situation, for him to realise that there just might be more than fear and uncertainty in their future.

"They're here," Michonne said lowly, her binoculars raised south-west.

Broken from his thoughts, Rick glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost midday now. While Tara and Daryl kept watch of the other directions he took the binoculars from Michonne and looked, casting his gaze around until he saw movement that wasn't the dead. His eyes widened, for though it was difficult to properly see them through the many trees, there was no doubt in his mind that these people were on horseback. Watching them as they rode at a comfortable pace alongside the Reflecting Pond, Rick took note of the well cared for saddles, the horses' neat manes and the protective armour worn by the riders. With this knowledge came the suspicion that these people and their group were well established, that they had resources and organisation at their disposal.

"They're clean," he commented, lowering the binoculars for a moment. "Their saddles are in good condition. The horses are well groomed."

"They've got their shit together," Lana agreed, she too observing them.

"Which are the two you met?"

"The woman, and the older guy. Dianne and Richard," she added.

Though he didn't care to know their names at the moment, Rick raised the binoculars and looked again, impatiently waiting for them to clear the trees so he could take another look at them. From Lana's description he managed to single out the man who must be Richard, noting from the group dynamic that he definitely seemed to be leading the expedition that day. He rode up front with Dianne on his right and slightly behind, while the other two men lingered further back, keeping a watchful gaze over their surroundings.

"How long should we make them wait?" Lana asked quietly.

Though he started to give his answer, Rick stopped himself. He wanted Lana to lead this group today…that needed to start immediately. "You're in charge Lana, not me."

Taking a step back from things, Rick swung his rifle over his shoulder and then climbed into the rear of the truck alongside Daryl. Taking a seat on top of the cabin they settled in and took watch of their immediate surroundings, keeping an eye out for Walkers and humans alike. They stayed mostly still to not attract attention, moving only as they passed another cigarette back and forth, Rick indulging himself again. Every now and then he looked to Tara and Michonne, looking to them to reassure him they were satisfied with Lana's judgement, with the way things were proceeding. He tried not to think about Carrie and the baby, to focus on listening to what Lana was saying to them, to her running commentary of what the four on horseback were doing.

The group of four had split into two, each of them waiting on either side of the Monument to give themselves a full scope of their surroundings. It seemed they hadn't noticed Rick's group yet, for as the minutes passed their impatience seemed to grow, the riders soon dismounting from their horses and tethering them to the flagpoles as they waited.

Intermittently looking for himself, Rick raised the binoculars and observed the man and woman, Richard and Dianne. Standing with their guns at the ready and their eyes squinted against the reflecting sunlight from the marble, they seemed to be talking quietly to one another. They appeared anxious, Richard restlessly tapping his foot as he looked around. A few moments passed before Dianne said something and then turned away, but Richard was quick to follow her. A heated discussion broke out, Dianne gesturing to the horses and then to her wrist, likely indicating how much time had passed. Noting that they had only kept them waiting twenty minutes, Rick was surprised by her impatience. Any number of things could hold up a well intentioned group. Had Rick been the one waiting, he would have been prepared to wait up to an hour before beginning to get impatient or worried.

Perhaps Dianne was as enthused about this meeting as Carrie had been. Certainly she seemed to be the more impatient of the group. But after a few heated words were exchanged things seemed to settle, Dianne reluctantly returning to Richard's side, though she stood with her arms folded and her expression downcast. Conscious of her demeanour, Rick lowered his binoculars and resisted the urge to ask Daryl for another cigarette, wishing they had some gum around…he needed to get that taste out of his mouth.

"They're coming back together," Lana suddenly said, breaking the silence. "It looks like they might be leaving."

"It's only been half an hour," Michonne commented, looking up at Rick and Daryl.

He knew that she was sharing the same thought he had, they in his opinion the group were rather impatient given the difficulty in travelling these days. Nevertheless Rick turned to Lana to receive her next instructions, a little annoyed when it seemed she was indecisive about what to do. Lowering her binoculars she looked up at him, seeking his guidance.

"I think we should go over…we don't want to let them leave."

Though allowing them to leave had its merits, giving them the opportunity to follow and intercept them elsewhere on their own terms, he preferred to keep things simple. "You are leading this group, Lana," he told her. "Don't default to me for a decision."

Nodding her agreement, Lana quickly hustled everyone to start heading over, and with ease they fell into a formation. Tara fell into step besides Lana, perhaps sharing a few words of encouragement or discussing the approach, while Rick and Daryl hung back. Carrying his rifle at the ready, he and Daryl brought up the rear and continued watching their surroundings, on edge for anything or anyone that may take them unawares. As they walked he kept a close eye on Lana, willing her to get rid of the uncertain expression on her face. It was no wonder she couldn't make a confident decision. Vetor wasn't with her, and she was used to defaulting to him, to doing as he told her to do. It wasn't her fault that things were that way, but it was to her detriment.

They were two hundred yards away when Richard and Dianne noticed them, the group of five stepping away from the tree line and onto the open pavement where they could be seen. There was tension in the air already as they approached, the other two figures quickly coming over to join their group as they prepared to face these strangers. As they came closer they slowed to a more cautious speed, making their final approach before stopping at an appropriate distance. With a little over five yards between them they were far away enough for protection, yet close enough to talk.

Silent, the two groups sized one another up and waited for someone to make the first move. Lingering at the rear with his rifle in his hands Rick took care to observe each of the four people carefully, looking for any behaviour that concerned him. They were doing the same, looking at them to try and gauge the who the leader was, and as Rick had hoped it seemed they were defaulting to Lana. They recognised only she and Tara from their encounter last week, and from what he had heard she had been the most forward and decisive that day.

The man with short red hair cleared his throat, stepping forward with a nervous but friendly smile. "Thank God we didn't agree to meet at the top," he said, gesturing to the Monument behind him

Rick frowned, surprised by his attempt to break the ice. It seemed he wasn't the only one either.

"Eight hundred and ninety seven steps," Tara commented dryly. "Yeah, thank God."

There was an uncomfortable pause now, the man giving an awkward laugh before stepping back with what seemed to be an exasperated sigh. As they waited Rick glanced at Lana, imploring her not to let the silence stretch on for much longer.

"I'm Lana," she began, her tone confident. "Do you remember me from last week?"

Richard nodded. "Hard to forget a woman who kicks with such accuracy."

Lana's shoulders moved as she chuckled under her breath, but she kept any amusement mostly under wraps. "Did you bring anything for us?" she asked expectantly. "Your show of good faith?"

Richard nodded, and when he reached into the bag he was carrying Rick prepared himself to act, for the man to take out a weapon of some kind. But instead what he withdrew was a small white box, the familiar rattle indicating that it was a box of pills. Coming forward a few steps he held the box out towards Lana, raising his eyebrows when she didn't take them. He cast his eyes over the rest of the group, his gaze lingering on Rick for a moment before he gave a heavy sigh.

"If we wanted to hurt you, we could have done it already," he said, tossing the box to Lana.

"As could we," she replied.

The words were simple enough, but they spoke volumes, each group trying to indicate to the other that they meant no harm. While it seemed to help Lana relax, Rick knew better than to let his guard down so quickly. He watched as Lana opened the box and removed two blister packs from inside, scrutinising their condition. She stepped back and passed them to Michonne, a few murmurs being exchanged by the two women. As Michonne too looked at the pills to ascertain that they were the ones promised, Rick turned his attention to the woman, Dianne. She seemed to be watching Michonne with a rather strange expression on her face, her mouth twisted into a strange grimace.

"Did you bring something for us?" Richard asked, his tone friendly and pleasant. "I believe a picnic was promised."

There was a brief pause, Lana considering this request. Just like he had, she opened the bag that was slung over her shoulder and removed two items. She tossed a small jar of peanut butter and an open pack of stale crackers his way, not perturbed by his surprised expression.

"Wow…that's some picnic."

Lana didn't hesitate. "You don't want it, give it back."

Without so much as running it past the others, Richard promptly tossed the items back. "Is your picnic situation dire?" he enquired, patiently waiting out their blank responses. A few beats passed before he turned on the spot and went to one of the horses, opening a saddle pouch and removing a cloth bag from inside. He then went to another horse and did the same thing, removing a second bag. "Here…for your people," he said as he returned, holding the bag out to Lana. When she made no move to come forward he seemed to sigh impatiently. "I'm not tossing these to you."

Holding her ground, Lana still refused to come forward. Richard's frustration seemed to grow, and then to Rick's surprise Dianne came forward. Despite her earlier impatience, she murmured a few words to him. As she spoke she cast her eyes around the strange new group, observing their appearance and then gesturing to the half pack of crackers. Listening to her, Richard nodded and then came forward a few steps. He placed the cloth bags on the ground between them and then stepped back, unsurprised when no one came forward to retrieve them.

"Is there anything else you need?" he offered, gesturing to the antibiotics Michonne was storing in her bag. "Medicine? Food?"

"What have you got?" Lana asked.

"What do you need?"

"What have you got?"

Taking note of Lana's tone, Richard raised his eyebrows and then flexed his jaw, quite clearly annoyed with her. "You know, a little gratitude might be in order."

"You're the one who suggested a trade."

"Not much of a trade if you ask me."

There was an awkward pause now, and as Rick turned and cast his eyes over their surroundings he also glanced at Lana. She ought to start easing up now, to be less confrontational. There was a line between being protective of your people and potentially offending the other group. As the silence continued Rick took his time to look around, looking at Daryl who was using the binoculars. Judging by what they could see they were the only signs of life around…it appeared they weren't being taken by surprise by anyone else.

"So, now what?" Richard asked expectantly, clasping his hands together with a heavy sigh. "We reach a stalemate because you won't tell us what you need?"

"You won't tell us what you've got."

"Can you blame us?" he questioned, his impatience with her growing. There was another pause, Rick watching as Richard collected himself, taking a moment to breathe in and out. "Where's the other woman? The one who ran into me last week."

Rick's heart rate increased a little, knowing that he was referring to Carrie. He knew what had happened on that supply run, that Carrie and this man had gotten into a struggle that proved to be a misunderstanding. Even hours later she had been on edge, the simple incident bringing back the trauma of Pete's attack, of every other man who had taken advantage and hurt her. It was surprising that Richard asked about her, particularly given that they hadn't parted on good terms that day.

"She didn't come," Lana answered his question.

He nodded. "I'm disappointed. I was hoping she might be here today."

"Why?"

"I wanted to apologise."

"For her running into you?"

Glancing at Lana again, Rick silently implored her to ease her tone, to create the atmosphere of cooperation as opposed to hostility. He didn't want to step in and reveal himself to be the leader, preferring instead to watch while their attention was not on him, but if this meeting went downhill he might have to. It seemed Richard shared the same hope, for he chose not to rise to Lana's thinly veiled hostility.

"She was upset. She thought I was attacking her. Is she alright?"

Finally Lana's body language softened every so slightly. "She's fine, thank you for asking."

Again the two groups fell into silence, still sizing one another up, both preferring not to show their hand first. Trying to break the stalemate Richard gestured to the cloth bags he had set onto the ground, imploring someone to take them. Finally Tara stepped forward, picking them up and backing away with them. She looked inside and then showed them to Michonne, the two of them whispering amongst themselves. Still looking at Richard with suspicion, Tara came forward and whispered to Lana, telling her what was in the bags.

"It's very generous of you to give us this food," Lana began. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Dianne said quietly. "Now to our former question. What else do you need?"

Lana wasted no time now, preferring instead to get straight into it. "The pills were a show of good faith. What do you want in exchange for this food?"

"Nothing," Richard answered. "It's a show of good faith too."

Lana scoffed, unconvinced. "What, are you Mary Poppins? You got a magic bag full of fresh food and jam?"

"We have Vegemite too, if you'd like some of that."

"Nothing's for free. What do we owe you for this food?"

"Like we said last week, we want to trade. Specifically we want ammunition, scrap metal and gunpowder. If you can't offer that for a trade, then you can come and work for us."

"Who is us?"

"My group," he said evasively, not wanting to share its size.

"What work?"

"General labour," he said impatiently. "Cleaning, building, cooking, security, clearing the dead…whatever you can contribute."

"And if we can't contribute labour?"

Richard paused now, sharing a glance with Dianne and then the other two men before he continued. "If you can't offer any supplies or labour for a trade, then you must be in a bad way. How many of you are there?"

"That's not for you to know."

He nodded, understanding her reluctance. "We will consider providing refuge for some of you…to the elderly and children first."

"How kind of you."

"If you have nothing of value to give us, then you're in pretty bad shape. One would think an offer of refuge would be a God send to you."

There was another stalemate now, but this time Rick was infinitely more satisfied. They had learnt valuable information, that not only did these people live comfortably enough to spare food for strangers, but they were well off enough to take in more people. But not everything was perfect…they must be low on ammunition and in need of manual labour to keep up with the work.

From behind the Monument three Walkers appeared, figures that Rick had been keeping an eye on as they approached, as had the other two men from Richard's group. Now that they were nearer the horses had sensed the danger, and though they were safely tethered nearby they shuffled about uncomfortably. Without a word Michonne started towards the Walkers, taking her time to chose which would she take on first. From the corner of his eye Rick watched as she withdrew her katana from over her shoulder and then expertly swung it, taking heads off with significant ease. But it seemed he wasn't the only one watching her, and although it was an impressive sight for anyone not familiar with the practice, it seemed Dianne was particularly impressed. She was watching Michonne with her mouth agape and her eyes narrowed, and then her face fell as she spun around to Richard. Grabbing him by the arm she demanded his attention, gesturing to Michonne and whispering. She turned to the other two men next, whispering to them too.

"Is there a problem?" Lana asked.

"Yeah!" Dianne said loudly, turning to Michonne again. "You!"

With the Walkers slain, Michonne was returning to her former place, her katana still held by her side as she gave them an intimidating scowl. "You're welcome."

"I recognise you."

"Is that so?" Michonne murmured as she resumed her place by Tara's side.

"Y-yes!" she spluttered, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You were here, in the city. Three, maybe four months ago?"

Raising her eyebrows, Michonne prompted her to continued. "Do tell."

Glaring at her, Dianne took a deep breath before explaining. "Two of your people were clearing out a warehouse and they got stuck on top of a truck at the loading dock, surrounded by the dead. We were five minutes out from rescuing them when a van turned up and beat us there. You were there, I recognise your sword," she concluded. "It's hard to forget."

To Rick's annoyance Lana spun around and looked at him, blindsided by what Dianne had said. He too was blindsided by the coincidence, by the chance that these people were there the same day that Glenn and Carrie had been left for dead by Nicholas. Keeping his face impassive he silently implored Lana to turn back around, to not look to him for guidance, and he was glad when she did.

"What's it to you if we were in the city?"

Dianne looked at her in frustration, no longer playing. "Because you were clearing out a solar panel warehouse. People who don't have food don't concern themselves with supplies for their solar power system."

"And who says we were there for the solar?"

"You did us a favour that day," Richard said, he too lacking his former patience. "Cleared out the dead before we could get around to it. You weren't there scavenging food, you took micro-inverters for a solar system. We saw the boxes you opened."

"You're settled in this area," Dianne accused. "You're not passing through, and you're not struggling for food."

"That was months ago," Lana argued.

Dianne shrugged her shoulders, not caring. "You wanted to lead us on, trick us into feeling sorry for you, for your situation."

"We're done here," Richard concurred, already backing away. "Keep the food," he added bitterly.

As Lana hastened to argue, trying to convince them to stay, Rick watched as they returned to their horses. He wondered if they were bluffing, or if they were genuinely upset with them withholding the true nature of their situation. Considering it from their perspective, he could see no reason that they would expect a group of strangers to be forthright and honest. Certainly he wouldn't expect a group of strangers to be open about their strengths and weaknesses…Richard was bluffing. Though he was reluctant to do so, Rick knew that he had to step forward. Richard might be bluffing, but if he and his group left now there was no telling when they might come across them again. Thinking of Carrie and his children, of how his family needed this meeting to go well, Rick came forward.

"One week," he said boldly, speaking for the first time.

There was a flurry of strange looks, Lana having not expected him to take over, and the other group having paid little attention to him. However there was now no questioning who was in charge, who the real leader actually was. Richard looked at him long and hard, seemingly impressed with his bold statement. He seemed to mutter something under his breath as he came back a few steps, slipping his hands into some leather riding gloves.

"One week, what?"

"One week, and we'll all be back here."

"You sound very certain of that," he commented.

"I am," Rick nodded.

He paused, shifting his weight to his other foot while he scrutinised this man up close. Richard's rugged face bore all the evidence of having done it tough, of having endured adversity to get to where he was today, but there was still an element of genuineness that Rick could sense from him, an element of transparency and frankness. Glancing at the others, there was no doubt in his mind that they were a tight knit team, much like his own.

"Same time and place next week," Rick said, still holding Richard's gaze. "This time I will bring the show of good faith."

Richard seemed skeptical. "What will you bring?"

"What you asked for. Ammunition, scrap metal, and gun powder."

This caught his attention, his eyes widening for a moment before he collected himself. "Alright," he said, nodding his head. "We have an agreement. Same time and place."

"One week," Rick added as he started backing away, wanting to be perfectly clear. "And you'll be telling me where your group is based."

Richard laughed in his face, managing to crack a grim smile. "I don't think so."

"You will."

"Is that a threat?" he demanded, advancing on Rick and brushing aside the red haired man who hastened to stop him. "You threatening us?"

"No," Rick said honestly. "I'm not threatening you. But you will tell me."

For a moment it looked like Richard would argue, that things would escalate, but in a matter of seconds the red haired man had implored him to rethink. "We can't do one week," Richard said next.

"You got better plans?"

"Other plans…not necessarily better plans. Two weeks."

Rick shook his head, thinking of the quarry herd. "I'm not sure you can wait two weeks."

"Well you'll have to."

"You misheard me," he said. "I'm not sure _you_ can wait two weeks. I can wait, but you shouldn't."

Richard would not be swayed. "Well I'm sorry, but it's two weeks or not at all."

"It's your risk, not mine."

This comment got his attention, making him stand up a little taller, his shoulders straightening. "What's the risk?" he asked.

Rick paused, drawing out his answer. "I'll tell you in two weeks."

Without another word Rick turned his back on them, returning to his own people who seamlessly followed his lead and began to depart. Each of them mulling over what had happened they walked in silence for a hundred yards or so, but the sound of an approaching horse made them look over their shoulders. He was unsurprised to see the woman approaching them, Dianne, having left the rest of her group behind. Slowing to a stop a dozen yards away she seemed to peer at the group, considering them before gesturing to Rick.

"Come here."

Doing so without hesitation, he readjusted his grip on his rifle as he approached, taking the opportunity to admire her horse up close.

"That women we met last week. The blonde who isn't here today," she clarified. "She's alright?"

"Why the concern?"

"She was very upset. Pretty hostile, but mainly upset."

Aware of just how upset she was, Rick nodded in agreement. "Like we said, she's fine."

There was an awkward pause now, the horse impatiently pawing at the pavement as his owner hesitated. "Richard didn't do anything to hurt her…and we won't do anything to hurt the rest of you. But if you give us reason to, we won't hesitate to defend ourselves at your expense."

Understanding her position, that she had to metaphorically flex her group's muscles in warning, Rick just nodded cooperatively. It appeared to be the right thing to do for Dianne seemed to relax a little, but still he could tell she wasn't finished. He waited a moment longer, his patience rewarded when she turned her horse around and then gestured to a bright blue bag hanging from the rear of her saddle.

"For you," she said shortly, gesturing to it again when he didn't move. "Take it."

Glancing back at his group, Rick felt cautious, but his curiosity drove him to do as she said. Removing the leather strap looped around the handle he removed the surprisingly heavy cooler bag and stepped away, hearing the sound of glass bottles from inside.

"It's fresh. Might even still be warm," Dianne said shortly, already leaving. "I want that cooler returned."

Not bothering to murmur gratitude she wouldn't hear, Rick watched as she returned to the rest of her group. They departed in the direction they had come, though Rick was unconcerned with trying to follow them, confident they would share their whereabouts when they next met. Instead he too returned to his group, sharing a nod of reassurance as they returned to the pick up truck together.

"That went well, do you think?" Lana asked in concern, looking at him expectantly.

"We're all alive," Michonne said darkly. "It went well."

With everyone else being vigilant, Rick secured his rifle over his shoulder and opened the cooler bag as he walked, his eyes widening at what he saw inside. The cooler contained eight glass bottles, each of them barely enough for a pint, but it was the liquid inside that had his attention. Taking out one bottle he held it up to the light and looked at it in wonder, admiring the slightly off white colour.

"They have a dairy cow," he announced, barely able to contain the smile coming over his face. He replaced the bottle and removed another, his wonder growing when he noticed the slight difference in colour. "Maybe more than one."

Throwing away all pretence of caution his group slowed to a stop and crowded around the cooler, looking at the eight bottles in amazement. It had been a month since they ran out of long life milk, and they had barely another month left of powdered…and now they had fresh cow's milk. Dianne was right, it was still warm.

"Do you think it's okay to drink?" Tara asked cautiously, looking at them all. "It could be…"

Rick understood what she was trying to say. This milk could be contaminated, maliciously poisoned by people who were out to hurt them.

"Only one way t' find out," Daryl decided, reaching into the cooler and taking one of the bottles. Without preamble he opened the cap and raised it to his mouth, studying it for only a moment before taking a sip.

"That's disgusting," Lana gasped, pursing her lips as she looked at it. "It's gone bad, it's curdled!"

"It's not curdled," Rick smiled just as Daryl gave a grunt of satisfaction. "That's the cream."

When Daryl passed it to him Rick did not hesitate, taking a generous mouthful and moaning in delight, unable to help himself. The milk was sweet and flavoursome, fresh cream from the top settling on his lips and tongue. Resting the urge to take another sip he instead passed it along to Michonne, and as she too indulged in a mouthful he turned and looked over his shoulder. Richard and his group were almost out of sight, just visible behind the trees on the other side of the Reflecting Pond. He felt his heart begin to soar, amazed at their generosity to strangers.

"Rick," Lana began, falling into step beside him as they returned to the truck. "What makes you so certain they'll tell us where they're settled?"

"We'll be motivating them to," he answered, using his machete to take down a Walker lingering by their truck. Wiping the blade clean on the Walker's clothing he turned back to his group, knowing they shared his thoughts. "Once we tell them about the thousands of Walkers we're going to set free, they'll want to tell us where not to send them."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N So sorry for missing last week's usual posting time - life just got the better of me, and sadly Chapter 10 got pushed further down the list. If I can manage it, I'll post twice this coming week.

I love all my readers and all my reviewers, but hey, a huge welcome to Nala Syrena who has spent the last few weeks binge reading The Stray Passenger and The New Resident, and is now all caught up! A review for every chapter, superb effort! I have read every single one of them, and will go through them during the week and respond to a couple.

As always, thanks to all my wonderful readers and in particular all the reviewers - you guys are why I love writing this story, and why I'm cool with spending almost all of my free time doing it!

* * *

It was with a long sigh of relief that Carrie removed her sweat clothing, stripping away the day as the bathroom filled with steam. Content to let the water run for a few minutes, for Alexandria didn't exactly abide by water restrictions, she dimmed the lights and then lit some candles, wanting to create a relaxing atmosphere as she wound down from a long afternoon out at the Redding Road worksite. Wishing she had thought to bring her iPod with her, for some soothing music would have been nice, Carrie stepped under the hot water of the shower and let it wash away her worries.

Her day hadn't been physically demanding, not by any means, but that didn't make it any less stressful. It was tricky for her to be at the worksite, for she was conscious of following Denise's advice to stay out of the sun and not exert herself too much, yet she also didn't want her community to question her work ethic. Had things been different she would have been right there beside them digging trenches and filling sandbags, but for now any disgruntled judgements they made about her would have to be endured. If she didn't want to tell anyone about her pregnancy, she would have to put up with it.

All in all the day had been highly productive for Alexandria, for not only had she received word that the meeting in Washington had gone well, the work at Redding Road had been faster than anticipated. Interruptions from Walkers had been pleasantly sparse the entire day, making for a smooth operation from sun up to sun down. Doing her best to take care of herself, she had alternated between taking watch and driving the solar powered golf cart, transporting supplies and water all around the worksite. Her work that day did little to keep her mind occupied, and most of the day was spent dwelling on the conversation she and Rick finally had, that of her pregnancy. While it had gone particularly well all things considered it had been stressful, particularly given they couldn't take the time to talk about it some more…although perhaps that was a good thing.

It was probably a good idea that they allow one another to decompress alone, for Rick to work through whatever it was he felt without her as a captive audience. After all, she had weeks to process this news…he was going to compress his into a couple of hours. He'd been out when she arrived home, but any minute now they were going to have to face one another, to face their situation. As she contemplated this she thought longingly of her plans for tomorrow morning, that she wanted to get up early and do a full yoga work out. It had been weeks since she got her yoga mat out, and she needed it not just physically but mentally too. She needed the soothing music and the gentle stretch of her muscles to put her mind at ease…there was no doubt she would feel better after that.

"Carrie?" came a knock at the door, Carl calling out to her. "Can Judy come in?"

"I'm having a shower," she impatiently called back.

"Judy needs one too, so can you do it?" There was a brief pause, and then, "Please?"

Carrie sighed, knowing the sound would be masked by the running water. "You're nice to me when you want something, you little brat," she muttered under her breath as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself. Turning on the lights she opened the door a fraction, resigning herself to the end of her peaceful solitude.

"Thanks," Carl said, quickly ushering his sister through the door. "I'm going out for a while."

"What?" Carrie exclaimed, opening the door properly. "No you're not."

Carl glanced at her over his shoulder as he left, apparently not caring for her refusal. "I'm just going to Enid's."

"It's seven o'clock at night," she protested. "And you've got homework to do for tomorrow."

"I've done it."

"No, you haven't, I saw it on the kitchen counter."

"I'll do it in the morning," he argued, leaving without concern. "Bye."

"Carl, I sai-" she spluttered angrily, frustrated that he was ignoring her. "I said no…"

Furious with him, Carrie stood there shivering in the bathroom door, seriously considering the merits of chasing him down, her current state of dress be damned. Finding no solution she resigned herself to losing this battle, and she closed the bathroom door and attended to Judith.

"He could have at least undressed you," she muttered, carefully extracting Judith from her clothing that was covered in her dinner.

She ought to be grateful Carl had fed his sister before fleeing the house, grateful he had at least done that much while she and Rick were out all day working their asses off. Doing her best to swallow her frustrations lest she project them on to Judith, she ushered her to the double shower and turned on Rick's side, getting the temperature just right before allowing Judith under. Knowing the drill, Judith happily stood under the water babbling and playing.

Attending to herself first, Carrie dispensed a small amount of shampoo and lathered her hair, trying to clean away the dirt and sweat that had built up there throughout the afternoon. Despite her rocky start to the day she was glad she got out to the site after all, glad that she was able to contribute even though she wisely chose to take watch. She stood by what she said to Rick earlier, that she couldn't help send her people out to work if she wasn't going to be there by their sides.

She jumped as she heard another knock at the door, the second intrusion making her heart race. Small things did that to her these days, the sound of a door slamming or the unexpected beep of the dishwasher…sometimes she still felt like she was living on edge, waiting for something to happen. "Who is it?"

"It's me," Rick answered. "Can I come in?"

 _Can't it wait?_ His timing was poor, and she wished he would bother her with whatever he wanted when she was finished up. "It's unlocked."

At her invitation he opened the door and came in, and though she had been annoyed by another intrusion she was glad to see him. They had heard over the radio that the group who went into Washington had returned safely, but it was still a relief to see him in the flesh, to ascertain for herself that everything was okay. Dressed in sweatpants and a teeshirt, his clean attire told her that he was there not for a shower, that he had cleaned up after returning from the run into Washington. He said hello to Judith as he came inside, ushering her to get back under the running water rather than hug him, and then he sat down on the lid of the toilet. As she washed the shampoo from her hair Carrie watched him from the corner of her eye, observing the way he sat with his elbows resting on his knees. She had only recently come home from the worksite, and so they hadn't seen one another since they parted that morning…he looked as tired as she felt.

"I just ran into Carl," he began. "I sent him back home."

His disapproving tone rubbed her up the wrong way, making her feel that he was disapproving of her. "I told him he couldn't go out. He ignored me, like he always does."

"Oh."

She waited for a moment, wondering if Rick had anything else to say. "He's still being rude to me…disrespectful. I asked you to do something about that."

"Don't let him get away with it," he told her, not for the first time. "Pull him up on it. Read him a riot act."

"There's only so much I can do. I'm not Michonne or Daryl, I'm not you," she reminded him bluntly. "I'm not his mom either, he's made that clear."

The latter remark seemed to get Rick's attention, his expression making her regret her tone of voice.

"It's alright that he doesn't want that from me," she added, softening her frustrated tone. "But I can't make him listen to me without trying to act like a mother. I don't know how…"

As Rick sat in silence Carrie smoothed some conditioner through her hair, still dwelling on Carl's behaviour. She missed the early days after his injury, the time they had spent together then. Carl was too tired to get up but too restless to sleep, and so instead they passed the time watching television in the master bedroom. Things between them had been good, Pete's attack being a shared experience they were able to bond over, to deal with as individuals and as a pair. But in the last month or so things had started changing, Carl's mood and feelings towards her changing at the drop of a hat.

"I heard things went well with this other group," she commented, trying to break the silence.

Rick nodded, raising his head and looking at her. "Yeah, it did go well. They gave us antibiotics, fresh fruit and vegetables and nearly eight pints of fresh cow's milk."

Carrie looked at him in astonishment. "Fresh cow's milk?"

To her surprise he smiled. "Have you ever tasted fresh milk?" he asked, continuing when she shook her head. "The fat separates, and you end up with fresh cream on the top. It tasted incredible. They have more than one cow too."

"They told you that?" she frowned. Settling onto her knees she turned her attention to Judith now, taking a cloth and getting her cleaned up.

He began to explain and then gave a full recount of the meeting. As she used a nail brush to gently remove dirt from underneath Judith's fingernails she listened attentively, taking in the details of the confrontation between Lana and Richard, and then the surprising news that Dianne recognised Michonne. It had never occurred to her that the day Nicholas had left she and Glenn for dead that someone other than Rick might come to the rescue, that there might be other people around who were good enough to come to their aid. But if Dianne's story was worthy of belief, things could have turned out very differently. Had she and Glenn been rescued by this group all those months ago a different path would have been forged. Alexandria would have connected with this group earlier, they might have had access to an experienced doctor for Maggie. Rick wouldn't have had to hold back from killing Pete, and Carl would have never been shot.

"It's funny, isn't it," she muttered, turning off the shower and then ushering Judith to go over to Rick. "Had you guys been five minutes slower that day, this other group would have rescued Glenn and I."

Rick nodded in agreement, bundling Judith up into her towel and drying her hair. "It would have changed things, that's for sure."

Wondering if he was thinking about the different scenarios she had considered, Carrie used her hands to wring out her hair before retrieving her towel. As she raised her hands she caught a glimpse of Rick looking at her, but not with desire. He had cast his eyes over her lower belly, over the slight curve that would soon grow into a shape that would be harder to hide. It seemed that he had taken the news of her pregnancy surprisingly well, but she suspected that he was only putting on a brave face for her sake. As she wondered if it was wise to bring it up again he raised the subject first.

"I spoke to Denise earlier," Rick said when she noticed his attention on her belly. He stood up with Judith bundled in his arms, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "She said to come by any time. I thought maybe we could go tonight?"

She looked at him in astonishment, having not expected this. "T-tonight?" she said in surprise, securing the towel around herself.

"I told her we might come by…but we don't have to."

Feeling taken aback by his eagerness, Carrie hesitated, trying to find the words so that she could answer him. There was only one acceptable response, but the words just wouldn't make it to her mouth. Instead she just nodded, even managing to give a nervous smile. Looking pleased to have her agreement, Rick took Judith into the bedroom where he would dress her. She followed him out and then she too dressed, choosing a pair of shorts and loose fitting shirt that wouldn't draw attention to her body. As she dried her hair she watched Rick with Judith, marvelling over the way he interacted with his daughter. He made everything look so easy, even when it came to Herschel who was barely two weeks old. There was never any hesitation on his part when Rick helped out with the tiny newborn, whereas on the few occasions Carrie had held him she'd been worried, fearful of hurting him or doing something wrong. This next baby would be Rick's third child. He would be confident in everything whereas she would be the opposite, a complete novice.

"Do you want to put her to bed, or should I?" Rick asked, thoroughly drying Judith's hair.

Needing to take only one look at her, Carrie suspected that Judith was not going to go to bed without a struggle, that she was going to be more interested in playing or crying when they tried to put her down. This was often an occasion she deferred to Rick, who always seemed to be more strong willed and less affected by Judith's tears than she was, and tonight she figured that was for the best. She enjoyed the routine of putting Judith to bed, indulging in the long snuggles, but she had done it for the last few nights. It was Rick's turn to enjoy the quiet time and well deserved cuddle, especially as he hadn't spent time with his daughter all day.

"You can put her to bed," she said, kissing him on the cheek before doing the same for Judith. "I'll make a bottle."

When she went downstairs she saw Carl lounging about on the couch, but to her disbelief he wasn't watching television or reading…he was doing his homework like she had asked him to. As if any change in his immediate environment would irrevocably distract him she made a point of leaving him undisturbed, moving quietly about the kitchen as she made a bottle of formula for Judith and then warmed it in the microwave. Daryl was on watch that evening, so Rick would be the only buffer between she and Carl. Hopefully they didn't need it.

She took the bottle upstairs and gave Judith one more kiss goodnight, stroking her hair as she lay naked on the bed while Rick rubbed her down with some lotion. Full of energy and resisting bedtime, a gentle massage was by far the easiest way to settle her, and with that in mind Carrie didn't let herself linger. Tonight was Rick's time with his daughter, just about the only time he had spent with her in days. With reluctance she went back downstairs and poured herself a large glass of water, trying not to feel nervous about going to see Denise.

"You busy?"

At the sound of Carl's voice she looked around, trying not to come across as too eager when she answered, "No, I'm not busy. What's up?"

He huffed and then sat up, a heavy thud indicating he had shoved his math textbook to the floor. "I can't get this one," he complained, opening a different math book and flipping through the pages. "I looked at the answer in the back of the book, but I can't figure it out."

It was hard for her to not race over there to provide assistance, pleased that he needed her help and that he was actually asking for it. Instead she simply finished her glass of water and made her way over, standing behind the couch and peering over his shoulder to look at what he was working on. Calculus should be easy for him by now, Carl having flown through the math problems after she taught him to think about it as a jigsaw puzzle, something to work at in stages rather than all at once.

"Find the average rate of change for the flow of water from a tank…I know what the problem is," she told him kindly. "You're not gonna like it."

"What?"

"You're not showing your work, and you're just making calculation errors. Demonstrate your calculations at each step, and you'll notice your errors."

"It's takes so long that way," he complained, impatient with himself.

"Sure it takes longer…but not as long as getting wrong and having to figure it out."

Though he huffed impatiently Carrie smiled to herself, knowing he would listen to her advice. Finding a fresh sheet of paper he started the math problem again, taking his time to show his calculation. At his invitation she sat down on the couch with him and started reviewing the other things he had been working on at school, glad that although he occasionally missed classes he had done well to keep up with the other kids.

It wasn't long until she heard Rick coming down the stairs, wearily making his way into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. He peered inside for a few moments looking for something to eat, but being the only person at home that evening Carl had prepared dinner only for Judith, their main priority. Giving up on the refrigerator he took an apple from their fruit bowl and began to eat, looking up at Carrie when she joined him.

"How's he doing?" he asked quietly.

"Fine," she answered. "He knows how to do it, he just gets impatient, that's all."

Rick just nodded and then offered his apple to her, which she accepted gratefully. She hadn't eaten since a hasty lunch out on the work site that evening, and these days they were well accustomed to sharing food as necessary. When he took his next bite he passed it back and then told her to keep it, feigning that he wasn't hungry anymore, and Carrie knew better than to push it with him. He usually denied that he was hungry, and was quite often found taking food off his plate and adding it to Carl or Judith's, giving them extra at his own expense. Given his actions now, Carrie suspected that she too would now be on the receiving end of him giving away his food.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked quietly, having eaten the apple down to the core.

He shook his head, strumming his fingers against the counter top as he looked at the baby monitor he had brought with him. She too watching it she observed the way Judith lay in her crib, stroking the foot of her stuffed duck against her cheek as she slowly fell asleep. As they waited for her to fall asleep Carrie's stomach began twisting with nervous tension, the lighthearted conversation with Carl fading into quiet moments she would normally enjoy. Across the counter from her she could tell Rick was feeling the same, the way he strummed his fingers on the counter reminding her of the way he strummed them against the handle of his Colt.

Finally Judith's eyes were closed, Rick satisfied that she wasn't going to awaken in his absence, not that it was anything Carl couldn't handle. "Carl, we're just going for a walk. Finish your homework before you watch any television."

"Or read comics," Carrie said to him under her breath, knowing to cover all the bases.

"Or read any comics," Rick added, taking his gun from the safe while Carrie secured her holster around her leg. "I'll check your work when we're home."

"Yeah, yeah. Bye," he muttered, dutifully flipping through his math book in search of something to help him.

It was surprisingly cool outside, the slight chill in the air a stark contrast from the heat of the day. She shivered a little as she adjusted to the temperature change, and when she and Rick reached the pavement she felt him slipping his hand into hers. He held it for a few moments before letting go, and it was then that he extended his hand around to her other arm, holding her by his side as they slowly walked. Returning his embrace she put her arm around his waist, glad to feel him close to her again.

"We're going back to Washington next week," he began, speaking softly as they walked past Glenn and Maggie's house. "We're meeting this group again."

Somewhat taken aback, for she hadn't expected this topic to come up on their way to the ultrasound, it took Carrie a moment to respond. When she did so she was careful to chose her words, not wanting to overreact. "Why? What do they want?"

"It's what we want," he clarified. "We want to trade with them, we want to make ourselves stronger, safer. It's going to be our turn to bring a show of good faith. They know we're capable of bringing something."

"You're not giving them ammunition, are you?"

"Yes, we are. Only a little, just to show them we're serious about making this work. We've already run it past Deanna, she's in agreement."

She didn't need him to clarify who _we_ included. "I wish you'd run it past me too."

"I wanted to," he said sincerely. "But you were still out on site, and Deanna wanted to discuss things straight away."

"I just…I don't want to give them any upper hand over us, even if it's only a little ammunition."

"Trust me," he reassured her. "We're taking the upper hand. We're going to show them pictures of the quarry, tell them about the thousands of Walkers we're going to set free."

Carrie gave a short laugh, instantly knowing the play. "You'll make them tell you where they are?"

"We won't have to make them, they'll be scrambling to make sure we don't send them their way. Like I said, we're keeping the upper hand here. We'll make this trade arrangement on our terms."

Though she nodded, she still did not feel confident in it, too intimidated by the possible threat this group could pose. There was once a time she made an arrangement with another group, one that she thought was on her terms…she'd never been so wrong in her life, and it had nearly destroyed her. Yet this was a problem for another time, for right now they were crossing the small porch to the Infirmary door. She let Rick knock quietly, and she was glad when it was Denise who opened the door a few moments later.

"Hi," Denise said warmly, welcoming them inside. It didn't seem to matter to her that it was the early evening, a time when she would normally be relaxing and spending time with Tara. Speaking of which…

"Is Tara here?" she asked, watching as Denise lowered the blind on the front door.

"She's upstairs watching television, she knows I'm seeing someone. She'll stay out of our way."

Remembering the way she had burst in here last week, interrupting the quiet evening between them, Carrie's stomach twisted in worry. "She knows, doesn't she," she said self-consciously. "She knows I'm pregnant."

Denise seemed to understand her worry. "If she does suspect, she won't say a thing. She _hasn't_ said a thing, not even to me." She waited a moment, ascertaining that Carrie was satisfied before she continued. "Why don't you get comfortable while I bring through the ultrasound?"

As Denise left Carrie removed her gun from its holster and gave it to Rick before heading over to the bed she used last week, glad that Denise had already thought to pull the curtains closed for privacy. Her bout of nerves returned without warning, her hands beginning to shake as she sat on the bed, trying not to look at Rick. For some reason she felt strangely claustrophobic, the curtains that enclosed them looming overhead. He too seemed off balance, ignoring the chair Denise had set out for him and choosing instead to stand. There was an awkward moment when they looked at one another, each giving a strained smile which was probably supposed to be reassuring.

It was not.

"You look nervous," he commented.

"So do you."

To her surprise he nodded, slowly letting out the breath he had been holding. He came over now and slipped his hand into hers, entwining their fingers. "I just want to know that everything's alright. That the baby's fine…that you are."

She was struck by an image of Rick fifteen years ago, standing by his young wife's side as they leant she suffered from placenta previa, that her life and their baby's was endangered. After what had happened with Lori she suddenly realised how worried he must be for her health, likely entertaining the possibility of losing her the way he lost Lori. In that moment the stakes began to feel higher, she too sharing his anxiousness to hear Denise say again that everything looked normal.

As the ultrasound started up Carrie went through the motions, her heart rate growing faster and faster the longer she had to wait. To her relief she was starting to feel excited, eager to see her and Rick's baby for the very first time. As Denise pricked the tip of her finger for a blood glucose test and then took her blood pressure, Carrie looked over her shoulder at him. On the surface he seemed mildly impatient, but she knew what he was thinking, that he too was eager to get a start on things. He needed the reassurance that everything was alright, to check one thing off his list of fears.

"Everything looks fine," Denise commented, writing down some notes and then removing the blood pressure cuff. "Make yourself comfortable and then we'll get started. Same drill as last time."

Taking a deep breath Carrie did as instructed, settling herself onto the bed and then lifting her shirt. Just like the other day she opened her shorts and pushed them down a little, thanking Denise as she fixed some paper towel around her clothing to keep it clean. As Denise applied some blue gel and then got started, keeping the screen turned towards her until she was properly situated, Carrie glanced over at Rick yet again. He was still standing, too restless to sit down even though she wished he would. Standing with his arms folded he seemed rather unapproachable now, making her hands feel particularly empty without his to hold.

"So how have you been feeling?" Denise asked, moving the transducer around her lower belly. She pressed a little, the motion suddenly reminding her that she had held her bladder for this appointment.

"Fine," she answered straight away, wanting to reassure Rick. "Just normal. I've stayed out of the heat when I can…I've been drinking plenty of water."

"Any nausea or dizziness?"

She shook her head. "A little morning sickness earlier in the week, but it wasn't much."

"That's good to hear," Denise smiled. "I bet that's a pleasant change."

"It was never too bad in the first place, just a couple of bouts here and there." At this thought she glanced at Rick, wondering if he was questioning her behaviour from the last few months, trying to pinpoint the signs he had missed or overlooked.

"What about your diet? I know you're not ready to tell people, but I can speak to Olivia and ask for extra rations. I'll make sure she doesn't ask questions."

"Yes," Rick answered on her behalf, not giving her a chance to speak. "Thank you."

Understanding his concern, Carrie didn't protest, though she did elaborate. "We haven't had any meat rationed this week, so I've been eating plenty of leafy green vegetables. I make a green vegetable soup, and I make smoothies with kale and spinach…" she trailed off awkwardly. "And my prenatals, too."

"That's good," Denise said in approval. "How about you, Rick? You like a kale smoothie?"

He cleared his throat. "Oh, yeah," he said, not bothering to hide his disdain. "I can't get enough of them."

Denise chuckled in amusement, perhaps sharing his disdain. It had been a great source of amusement the first time Rick had tried one of Carrie's smoothie concoctions, the expression on his face unforgettable. He had recoiled in disgust, the strange texture and unusual taste immediately turning his stomach. Though Carl and Daryl were in agreement with him, Judith had not been, and quite enjoyed spending up to an hour slowly eating a smoothie that Carrie shared with her.

"How's everything look?" Rick asked, interrupting Denise's concentration.

"So far everything is as expected. There's a good amount of amniotic fluid, and I got a really good shot of the fluid in the nuchal fold the other day. I haven't taken a look at the umbilical cord just yet, but-"

"What about the placenta?" he asked, cutting her off. "Is it in the right place?"

Carrie held her breath as she awaited the answer, knowing this was Rick's greatest concern.

"The placenta is nicely placed," Denise reassured them. "It's posterior, at the back of the uterus. It will move higher up as the pregnancy progresses."

"It's not covering the cervix?"

"No, not at all."

Carrie watched as relief seemed to wash over him, observing the way his shoulders relaxed as he breathed out. Though he still stood with his arms folded across his chest she could see the fears easing.

"Your late wife Lori, she had placenta previa didn't she?"

Rick nodded. "With Carl, yes. We think she had it with Judith too."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said as she turned her attention back to the ultrasound. "In this case everything looks just fine. Nothing to worry about."

As Denise returned to concentrating, muttering under her breath as she tried to adjust some of the settings, Carrie kept her focus on Rick, glad that he seemed more relaxed now. He shifted his weight between his feet and then pulled up the stool Denise had set out for him. As he settled in he gave Carrie a warm smile, and finally he took her hand and held it. Not for the first time that day she replayed elements of her conversation with him that morning, hearing his words of support as if he had just spoken them. He'd been adamant in reminding her that this baby was _theirs_ , that he was a part of this journey too and he'd be there for it. At the time it just felt like words, she hadn't been able to appreciate what he had been telling her, but slowly things were starting to feel different.

Without warning a welcomed sound came from the ultrasound, the steady thump of the baby's heart beat capturing their attention. Her own heart began racing with excitement as she listened to it, glad to hear it once again and glad that Rick was with her too. He was leaning forward now, his hand holding hers a little more firmly as he started to smile.

"That's a nice steady heart beat," Denise commented. "One hundred and seventy beats per minute."

"And there's only one in there, right?" Rick asked light heartedly. "One heart beat?"

Carrie looked up in alarm. The thought of having twins hadn't even crossed her mind.

"Yes, only one. Are you ready to see?"

Rick nodded his head, but he looked to Carrie for her answer. Praying that he hadn't picked up on the weeks of ambivalence she felt towards their baby she turned to Denise and eagerly nodded, meaning it with her whole being. She tightened her grip on Rick's hand as Denise slowly turned the monitor for them to see, but her excitement momentarily faltered with what she saw. It was difficult to distinguish what she was looking at, too difficult to make out anything in the dark masses of grey and black. On the other hand Rick seemed to understand it immediately, and he was leaning forward with his elbows on the bed, peering at the screen in awe.

"Denise, I…" she started in embarrassment, feeling this was something she should automatically know how to understand. She didn't have to wait for long.

"Look here," Denise began, moving the monitor closer raising her free hand to the centre of the screen. "These little flashes, that's the baby's heart. Do you see that?"

"Yeah," she whispered, her eyes transfixed on the screen. The longer she looked the more the dark masses became clearer, and as Denise patiently talked her through the rest she wondered how she hadn't recognised it in the first place.

"You're looking at the baby in profile, we can see the right side of his or her face. You see this little indentation here…that's their eye, and their nose and mouth. They've got a nice round abdomen here, and then you might be able to see the right arm if we wait."

"Is this the spine?" Rick asked, standing up and leaning over Carrie to point to the screen. "These blotches?"

"That's right," Denise confirmed, showing Carrie too.

"T-the…" Carrie began, trailing off as she wondered if her question was completely stupid. "The head seems really big."

"No, it's alright," Rick assured her before turning to Denise for confirmation. "It's normal, isn't it?"

She nodded in agreement. "It does seem disproportionate, but the size is fine. It'll grow into its head as pregnancy progresses. I've measured from crown to rump, and we'll put you at roughly thirteen weeks gestation."

"Is that a hand?" Carrie questioned, pointing to a round shape she saw appear.

"Yes, it is. Looks like the left hand to me…the right must be tucked up close. Sometimes if you're lucky we can even see them sucking their thumb in the womb."

Carrie's eyes widened at this. "Even this early?"

"If we're lucky."

She looked back at the screen, awed by what she could see. "When will I start to feel it moving?

"Not for a while yet," she said apologetically. "Usually from about eighteen weeks you might start to feel like you've got an upset stomach, or butterflies. Then you might start to feel some distinct movements in the weeks that follow."

"Oh," Carrie said in disappointment, feeling that eighteen weeks was too far away.

A comfortable silence fell now, Denise continuing to look and make her assessment while Rick and Carrie watched on. Occasionally the image of their baby disappeared or looked distorted as Denise moved the transducer around her belly, showing them different angles, amazing them with different views of the legs and the tiny round shapes that were feet. It took her by surprise when Denise quietly passed her a box of Kleenex, and she was embarrassed to realise that her eyes had become watery, but it was a relief too. For weeks she had worried that she wouldn't come to love this baby, that it's unplanned arrival would be too hard for her to handle. But there was no doubt in her mind that this particular fear had no weight behind it.

Forty minutes later she and Rick walked home hand in hand, having stayed long enough for Denise to take her time doing a thorough examination, not that either of them had minded. In the pocket of Rick's jeans was a printed picture of the ultrasound, an image of their child that would have to suffice until they could properly meet them. Dragging their feet to delay their return home they walked in comfortable silence, as if they both knew they didn't need to say anything to fill the air.

As they reached the intersection by Jessie's house Carrie glanced up, noting that the family of three were sitting out on the front porch together. Sam and Jessie were curled up together on the love seat, while Ron was sprawled out on a chair with his laptop balanced on his knee, his face illuminated by the screen. When they passed Jessie looked up at them, and to Carrie's disbelief her features didn't harden at the very sight of her. Tonight for the first time in months Jessie tentatively raised her hand in a wave, the simple gesture allowing hope to bloom within Carrie's heart. Maybe it wasn't impossible for them to reconnect some time, maybe there was a chance. It saddened her to know that when Jessie learned of her pregnancy it would be second hand news from someone else. Had things been different Jessie would have been one of the first to hear it form Carrie's mouth…maybe there was still a chance for that.

But just as quickly as this hope flickered inside of her, Ron looked up and saw her there, and in an instant the hope was gone. He glanced over at his mother and when he saw her hand raised in a wave he muttered something under his breath, closing the laptop and quickly getting to his feet. Ignoring Jessie who implored him to stay Ron went inside and closed the door louder than necessary, and it this reaction that deterred Carrie from going over to say hello. Maybe Rick was right…leave Jessie to worry about her family while Carrie worried about her own. Aside from being a right little shit to his mother, Ron was also causing problems for Carl lately, Carrie having heard rumours of heated arguments between the two of them. Maybe it was for the best that she and Jessie were not friends anymore.

"I guess that's it then," Rick began, entwining their fingers as they slowly made their way past Glenn and Maggie's, not in a rush. "I'll need to stop shaving."

Carrie looked around at him curiously, glad for the distraction from Jessie. "What does this have to do with you shaving?"

"Having a baby means you're allowed to get lazy. You'll eventually stop shaving your legs, so I'm allowed to stop shaving my face."

She burst into laughter at the absurdity of this statement, the joyous motion helping relieve any lingering stress that was weighing her down. Rick too started laughing, his shoulders shaking before he leant over and gently kissed her, smiling against her lips. Longing for his touch she stepped closer to him as they kissed in the middle of the dark street, one hand reaching up to stroke his smooth jaw. She'd seen his face in a variety of states since she had known him, but the longest his facial hair had grown was during the supply run to Georgia when they first met.

"I like shaving my legs," she told him, this being a welcomed luxury of Alexandria. "And I don't care what you do with your face."

They lingered out on the pavement for a few moments, taking the opportunity to be alone together and enjoying the quiet moments together. Conscious of the time and their early start for the following morning they didn't linger too long, and as if they hadn't just shared the most life affirming moment of their relationship they shared a kiss and went inside. Just like every other night they went about their usual routine, Rick checking that Carl had finished his homework before leaving to take Daryl a cup of coffee on watch. When he returned she was glad that he didn't settle onto the couch to watch television with Carl, that instead he came upstairs with her and prepared to turn in for an early night.

Allowing him to go first Carrie waited patiently for him to finish up in the bathroom, for despite his earlier intrusion they tended to give one another privacy. It made for a more harmonious relationship, particularly given that they had come to clashing over trivial things like the tidiness of their bedroom and who was responsible for making the bed. While she waited she sat cross legged on the bed, holding the ultrasound of their baby and studying it closely. It felt strange to associate this image with her pregnancy, that this tiny face was the cause of her morning sickness and fatigue. She tried to imagine this image as a fully fledged baby, a squirming and crying being that was wholly dependent on her for its survival. It was a humbling thought to realise that it would depend on her, that without her it might not survive.

To her relief Rick came out of the bathroom now, interrupting the worrisome thoughts that began filling her heart. Trying to distract herself she set the ultrasound photograph onto her nightstand and stood up, intercepting him as he went past her. With a warm smile she took his hand in hers and then kissed him, smiling against his lips when he kissed her back. It was perfectly natural they way they automatically moved into one another's embrace, Carrie giving a content sigh as he deepened the kiss and held her against him.

"You know," he began, his voice low and husky. "It's been a while…"

She smiled, knowing what he referred to. It had been almost a week since Daryl and Aaron had returned home late at night with news of the quarry herd, their bad timing posing an interruption to Rick and Carrie who had just started fooling around. To convey her agreement she gave him a sensual kiss, making sure to press her teeth around his lower lip as she pulled away, and that was the only indication he needed.

"Hold that thought," he requested, extracting himself from their embrace. "I'm just going to check on things."

Leaving him to check on Carl downstairs, Carrie headed into the bathroom to take her turn. She looked in the mirror as she brushed her teeth, trying to decide if she seemed different now. It felt like she had just gone through a tremendous change, her life feeling already so different after seeing the baby on the ultrasound. The worries she had been losing sleep over still existed, there would still be problems to keep both her and Rick up at night, but now it all felt that much more manageable. The relief that came from finally telling someone was great, but the relief of finally telling Rick was insurmountable. Yet in spite of all that, she didn't look different at all, even if she felt different.

As she spat out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth she was rather conscious of the way her shorts pulled across her abdomen. By no means were they too tight to wear, but it was a definite reminder that she was beginning to show. Already her favourite jeans didn't require a belt, and they had been borderline uncomfortable that day. What was she going to wear tomorrow? Would she be able to go to the Pantry for more clothes without arousing suspicion?

"Daydee?"

Hearing Judith calling out she hastened to finish up in the bathroom, wanting to settle her before she properly awoke. She apologised softly as she turned off the main lights, suspecting the brightness had awoken Judith, who seemed rather displeased to see that it was Carrie who had come to comfort her. Despite their close relationship it was usually still Rick that she called for, and Carrie had learnt not to take that to heart. Before she could get to her feet Carrie swooped in and kissed the top of her head, gently stroking her scalp with her fingers just the way she liked. It seemed to settle her, and when she yawned and rubbed her eyes Carrie turned away and started to change her clothes. It wouldn't stay on for long, but for the time being she took one of Rick's button up shirts and pulled it on, knowing he liked seeing it on her. These days this was about as close to lingerie as she could come, that and the one nice bra she usually saved for evenings like this.

"Daydee," Judith whined insistently, her lower lip wobbling as she rubbed her eyes. "Moh…Mommy…"

As she started to cry Carrie gave in, picking her up from the crib and bringing her to her chest. Though she relished the way the child lowered her head to her shoulder and snuggled in close Carrie quickly tried to soothe her, not wanting her time with Rick to be interrupted or postponed. Yet even as she felt a flicker of impatience with Judith, at the same time she didn't mind…it was nice to be needed, it was nice knowing that she could provide comfort. When Rick came back upstairs she just managed to catch the look of disappointment that crossed his face.

"She'll go back down quickly," she assured him, though in reality she had no idea how long it might take.

"It's fine," he assured her as he closed the door behind him. "Carl's still watching television, but he won't bother us."

While she gently swayed back and forth with Judith, Rick pulled back the comforter on the bed and let it fall to the floor, neither of them needing it given the warmth of the night. She could feel his eyes on her as he laid down on the bed and waited, knowing he was looking at her bare legs, her ass just covered by the tail of his shirt she wore.

"We should have asked for a second picture," Rick began. "One for each of us. Maybe one for the refrigerator next time."

She looked around and was pleasantly surprised to find him with the ultrasound photograph in his hand, studying it with the same scrutiny as she had earlier. Carrie smiled at these remarks, suddenly looking forward to when they told other people, when they could proudly display the ultrasound for everyone to see. Briefly turning her attention back to Judith she pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, tentatively hopeful that she was almost ready to go back down. She'd been quiet for a little while now, sucking on her thumb as she cast her eyes around for the duck she had left in her crib.

"Rick," she began quietly, knowing how much she needed to express what she was thinking. "Thank you."

He looked up at her straight away. "Don't be thanking me."

She didn't respond immediately, taking a moment to mull over her words. "I want to," she said sincerely. "You didn't ask for this. I'm the one who forgot to get the morning after pill…I got us into this position."

Again there was a brief pause, Rick too mulling over his words. "It's funny you say that. I've spent the day thinking the same thing, just the other way around," he said as he sat up. He pulled off his shirt and then tossed it, successfully landing it into the hamper. "You always told me you didn't want this to happen, and I put you in this position anyway. I knew better than to take that risk."

In spite of the seriousness of what they were discussing, Carrie managed a small smile as she recalled the moment in question. With no contraception readily available Rick found himself caught in up in the heat of the moment by suggesting they go without, that they risk it just that once. But it wasn't his fault…she had agreed to the risk, and she also should have known better.

"Neither of us meant for this to happen," she conceded, cutting herself some slack at the same time.

"No, we didn't," he agreed. He was taking off his watch now, still patiently waiting for her to put Judith down. "But it has happened. Neither Carl or Judith were planned, but it worked out one way or the other."

Carrie looked at him in mild surprise. "Not even Carl?"

"No, absolutely not. Lori and I," he began. "We had a five year plan that involved buying a new car and saving for a house deposit, not a baby. But it happened, and we never regretted it."

"No," she hastened to acknowledge. "Of course not."

A comfortable silence fell now, and Carrie took advantage of it to put Judith down. She'd been looking wistfully at her duck left in the crib, trying to decide whether she wanted to snuggle with Carrie or it more. When Carrie lowered her into the crib she gave a weary sigh and reluctantly went down, snatching up the duck within seconds. But to her annoyance Judith turned onto her side and faced the bed, her eyes widen open as she sucked her thumb. Praying she went to sleep quickly instead of laying awake and watching them like she sometimes did, Carrie straightened her blankets and ensured that she was comfortable.

He too noticing that Judith was watching them, Rick made an effort to keep his hands mostly to himself when Carrie laid down. They shared a kiss as they moved closer to one another and got comfortable, both of their eyes darting towards Judith as they waited for her to fall asleep. While it didn't seem to bother Rick, who claimed Judith had no understanding of what they were doing, it still bothered Carrie a little to be making love or fooling around while she was awake. It was quite the mood killer to be halfway through and then realise they had an audience. As they waited Rick kissed the side of her neck and slipped his arm around her waist, holding the ultrasound up for them both to see. They lay there studying it together, Rick helping her distinguish the features that she still didn't quite understand. Like so many other things in the future, the ultrasound was something she would have to get used to.

"We've only known one another for six months," she said quietly, still unable to fathom that time period. "It feels more like years."

Rick nodded, letting her take the photograph and put it safely into the top drawer of her nightstand. He ushered her back into his arms, kissing her cheek when she settled again. "It's almost Carl's birthday. Fifteen," he muttered wistfully.

"I never got him that electric guitar," she said in disappointment, glancing at Judith who was still awake.

"It's alright, he can stick with a ukulele. Besides, nothing will top my gift."

Carrie smiled, recalling Rick's excitement the day Daryl had returned from a run for medical supplies with a royal blue Colt Python. He'd given it straight to Rick rather than the armoury, having known that he always wanted to give Carl a gun just like his own. Given the way Carl had always envied Rick's revolver, there was no doubt that he was going to be thrilled with his birthday gift.

When he started kissing her neck, softly at first and then with more urgency, Carrie knew he was getting impatient. She tided him over by turning in his arms and kissing him properly, trying to ignore the natural inclination to reach for the front of his sweats. Already she could feel that he was getting hard, for he had pressed himself against her thigh to make his impatience clear. One glance at Judith was enough to see she was still wide awake and watching them, but it seemed Rick needed reminding of that.

"Rick," she started softly. As he opened the buttons on her shirt she placed her hand on top of his, stopping him. "Just wait."

He seemed to listen, but only for a moment. They shared a languid kiss before he pulled himself away, taking a breather before he sat up. He moved between her knees and pulled them apart, but just as she was about to tell him to stop she realised what he was doing, or rather what he was not doing. For a moment she had felt on edge, thinking that he was trying to start even though she told him to wait, but she quickly understood. Instead he knelt between her legs and placed his hand on her lower belly, his fingers skirting underneath the top of her underwear not out of desire, but to feel the shape of her body.

Settling, she lay there beneath him and allowed him to look and touch, enjoying the way he moved his hand over the round curve that seemed more prominent when she was laying down. She had a sudden glimpse of what it might be like in a couple of months when she was further along, imagining him with his hands on her round belly as he felt their baby moving inside of her. She wondered if he would talk to it, having heard of expectant parents who read books and played music to their baby…would he do that?

Moving his hands aside Rick lowered his head and then kissed her lower belly, letting his lips linger there before sitting upright again. "I've never regretted my children, and we won't regret this one either," he said seriously. "But we might regret not making the most of it…we'll regret not enjoying it."

She nodded, tentatively agreeing with his latter remarks. The idea of enjoying her pregnancy still felt indulgent to her, that having a baby in this world was too irresponsible to celebrate. "I know we're meant to be scared," she began, trying to articulate everything she was feeling. "But we're allowed to be happy too, right?"

"Yes," he agreed without hesitation. "We're allowed to be happy."

He lowered his head and pressed another kiss to her lower belly, his fingers stroking her hips as he sat up again. Noting that Judith had finally turned her head to face the wall Carrie sat up and faced him properly, her hands stroking his stubbled jaw as they kissed. She felt excited to be pregnant, glad that this had happened to them regardless of the circumstances. Perhaps he felt the same excitement and happiness, for he kissed her with enthusiasm as he ushered her to move up the bed. She was breathless when their kiss broke, her head spinning as he eagerly pulled off her shirt before laying down together.

"Are they sore?" he asked, his fingertips skirting the curve of her breasts.

She shook her head, taking his hand and placing it on her breast. "Not right now," she sighed, leaning into him when he brought his lips to hers. Paranoid, she glanced at Judith in her crib and then at the bedroom door, remembering the intrusion last week that had left both she and Rick uncomfortably dissatisfied. Allowing him a few more moments to enjoy lavishing attention to her breasts she slowly pulled herself out from under him, laughing at the appalled expression on his face.

"One second," she assured him, backing away towards the door as she slid her underwear down her legs before tossing them to him.

Enjoying the look on his face she reached the door and then turned the lock, reminding herself to unlock it again before they fell asleep. Though safety would see them locking themselves in at night when they were most vulnerable, these days they tended to keep it unlocked for the occasional times Carl needed something. When she turned back to him she grinned in amusement, observing the way he had stretched across the bed to reach into her nightstand. He was fumbling around inside for a condom, snagging a square foil between his fingers just as realisation came over him.

"What are you doing there?" she asked lightly, chuckling when he tossed the condom back into the drawer and closed it.

"Nothin'," he smiled, sitting up as she rejoined him on the bed.

"It's not like you can accidentally knock me up…again."

He grinned at her now, a gentle push to her hips telling her to lay back down. Content to let him take the lead she lay down and welcomed him as he lay beside her, his hands roaming her body before ushering her legs to part. But before he could even start he suddenly raised his head, and if it weren't for the odd expression on his face she might have worried they were about to be interrupted.

"You want to know what I'm not looking forward to?" he asked with a gentle smile.

Carrie frowned, for she could hazard a guess. "Swollen ankles. Stretch marks. Saggy belly. Giving birth. No sleep. No sex. Have I missed anything?"

He blinked at her, perhaps not having realised the extent to which she had already thought about this. "I was going to say, choosing a name we both agree on."

Managing a laugh, she threaded her fingers through his curls and looked up at him affectionately. "Yeah. It's going to suck for you when I get my way."

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A/N Next chapter, they'll be meeting Richard again. Please read and review.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N Lots to learn in this chapter, little hints to foreshadow potential storylines you've likely already anticipated. I hope you guys enjoy.

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Thursday September 18

The atmosphere was heavy with humidity, dark clouds behind the Washington Monument serving as a foreboding warning of the storm that was to come. Standing outside with no protection from the elements Rick looked up at the sky in concern, hoping that it didn't rain too heavily while his people were out there. Then again, given the unusual humidity perhaps the rain was exactly what they needed.

As Rick stood and waited impatiently he felt a bead of sweat form in his hairline and drip down the side of his face, his body trying to remain cool while he insisted on taking it out in the heat. Feeling concerned he turned and glanced over his shoulder at Carrie, who stood a few yards behind him near Daryl. Having grown up in New York state she was better accustomed to cold rather, whereas he was the opposite. If the heat was bothering him today then it sure as hell was bothering her.

Her hair was tied back into a pony tail, but loose tendrils stuck to the side of her face, and in the brief moment he watched her she pinched her shirt and pulled it away from her skin. In her other hand she held a bottle of water, one that had quickly depleted in the fifteen minutes they had been standing out in the heat. When she looked up and caught his eye he held her gaze before jerking his head towards the cars, asking if she wanted to go back to the air conditioning. Someone would have to go with her, they never split off alone on a run, but it wouldn't be any trouble. When she shook her head he forced himself to turn back around, reminding himself that she was capable of looking after her own well being. She hadn't seemed to mind his fussing, perhaps because he had kept it to a minimum, but he wondered how long she would be tolerable.

Exactly two weeks had passed since she told him they were going to be parents, making this her fifteenth week of pregnancy. Things had been going quite smoothly, and she claimed to be regaining some of her former energy levels. But in his opinion she hadn't quite developed the healthy pregnancy glow they had all seen in Maggie, perhaps being too busy and stressed by the quarry herd to find time to relax and enjoy the new stage of her life. Yet despite this he complimented her, telling her that she looked radiant even when she was covered in sweat and her expression was nothing short of foul. He'd learnt over the years when to hold his tongue and when to stretch the truth.

In spite of the stress from the herd, a weight had definitely been lifted off Carrie's shoulders, that much he had been able to notice. By now she had known about her pregnancy for almost two months, and the majority of that time she had carried the burden alone, too afraid of the reality to share it with anyone but herself. The last two weeks had been a relief for her, having told Denise and then finally him too. She no longer had to deal with it alone, she no longer had to pretend that everything was alright in front of him.

Today was going to be important for them, having prepared themselves to give the news to Carl. The thought of what his reaction might be worried both of them, but they had set themselves a time frame that they were determined to stick to. The morning after the ultrasound that had agreed that although they're prefer to wait until the quarry was taken care of, they would wait no longer than two weeks at the most. But as time tended to do it slipped away from them, and all of a sudden the workload for preparing for the herd was that much heavier, the time it was taking greater and greater. All too quickly they had reached the two week mark, and it was now time to tell Carl.

The first day of knowing had passed in a blur for Rick, caught up in the first meeting with the other group and then distracted with the plans that needed to be made. While at first he'd been filled with worry over Carrie's pregnancy, with the ultrasound came a strange sense of calm and understanding, as if the familiarity of seeing his child on the screen reminded him that they could do this. Though he'd handled things well enough initially, the next day when he had awoken everything felt clearer, the reality of having a third child suddenly feeling a little more straightforward.

Despite the fact that he was meant to be showing vigilance right now, Rick looked over his shoulder at Carrie once again. The loose shirt she was wearing was the right length to hide the fact that her jeans no longer required a belt, that their fit was too snug for comfort. Had she been wearing her usual attire of a tank top her pregnancy would have been noticeable to anyone who looked twice. Her belly seemed to have grown in the last couple of days, the development taking them both by surprise. He couldn't help but smile every time he looked at her changing shape, admiring the bump and eagerly waiting for it to get larger. It would be a while yet, but he looked forward to feeling their baby kicking and moving inside of her, to the stage when she could use her belly to balance a dinner plate or glass of lemonade.

A slight flurry from his group caught Rick's attention, and immediately he returned his attention to their surroundings, exercising the vigilance that had momentarily lapsed. Instinctually he looked around and assessed the area, noting that Michonne, Tara and Rosita had more than adequately kept it free of Walkers. Sharing a quick glance with Abraham Rick looked out towards the Reflecting Pond, pleased to see the familiar movement of people on horseback. Like the previous fortnight it was difficult to see them clearly through the trees, but from the distance he could make out the shape of the riders, counting at least five…maybe even six.

"They brought more this time," he commented.

"As did we," Abraham nodded. He readjusted his stance, strumming his fingers against the rifle he held at the ready.

As the other group drew nearer Rick turned on the spot and made eye contact with everyone in his group, checking for signs they were uncomfortable or concerned. While Michonne, Tara and Rosita continued maintaining a Walker free perimeter, Daryl and Carrie stood side by side with Lana a few paces away, the two women still avoiding one another when possible. In front of them Rick and Abraham stood side by side, prepared to do the talking during the meeting. Before turning back to face them he shared a brief glance with Daryl, silently thanking him for lingering by Carrie's side. Though they hadn't told him anything yet Daryl often tended to notice little things that others overlooked, and he seemed to have picked up on the notion that something was going on with her. It wouldn't surprise him if Daryl knew she was pregnant, or at the very least if he suspected.

"Which ones were here last time?" Abraham asked, the five horseback riders having come into their clear line of sight now.

"All but the kid," he answered, scrutinising the unfamiliar face.

The kid looked to be about sixteen, his messy blonde hair framing his face and making him look younger than he probably was. He rode at the back of the group alongside the man with dark hair, while the red headed main rode in the middle. At the front were Richard and Dianne riding side by side, and already they were watching Rick and his group with wariness. Although they had brought an extra person to today's meeting, Rick had brought an extra three. When the group reached the flagpoles they cautiously dismounted, keeping a safe hold of the reigns before safely tethering horses. Not to Rick's surprise the young man stayed back to watch over the horses while the other four came forward.

Like last time there was a degree of uncertainty between the two groups, for they were very much still sizing one another up, still cautious with the trust they extended. As they came closer Rick unfolded his arms and rested his hand on the handle of his Colt, tapping his fingers against it. Noting something unusual he tilted his head and frowned a little, surprised to find Richard's right eye and cheek to be swollen, the skin tinged green and blue. Upon closer inspection he noted that his lower lip was puffy, the crease in the centre looking like it had been recently split.

"Bar fight?" he enquired, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Something like that," Richard answered, his tone surprisingly brusque.

There was an awkward silence now, the atmosphere between the two groups feeling rather uncomfortable and mistrustful. Rick felt somewhat taken aback, having thought that they had parted on fairly good terms, and so he let a few moments pass and waited for the atmosphere to change. It didn't however, the four people standing with their hands ready to lunge for the weapons…yet Rick did not feel afraid of them. He glanced behind them at the young man, noting that he seemed relatively more comfortable than his group members.

Needing to do something to break the ice, he held Richard's gaze for a moment before turning away. He gestured to Lana for one of the cloth bags at her feet, which she came forward with and passed to him. Inside was the other bags they had received and the soft blue cooler with glass bottles. Turning back around he approached slowly, entering the no man's land between the groups and placing the bags down. The soft clink of the glass bottles was the only indication he needed to tell them what he was returning.

"Thank you," he said sincerely as he stepped back.

A long moment passed before Dianne came forward and retrieved the bags. "Was it enough?"

"It was very generous of you," he replied, not exactly answering her question.

With the amount of people to feed in Alexandria the two bags of fresh fruit and vegetables had been barely enough to spread around for one meal, but its intention hadn't been to feed them. That food was a precursor for what was to come should a trade agreement between the two groups be reached. This other group didn't need to know that Alexandria had a strong food supply already, but now Rick knew the others did too.

"Did you bring anything for us this time?" Richard asked, gesturing to the other bags at Lana's feet.

Satisfied with how things were going so far, Rick turned to Lana again and gave her a short nod, telling her to bring the other bag now. As he was looking over his shoulder he cast his eyes over Carrie, pleased to note that she had her hand resting on her holstered gun, that despite the bead of sweat dripping down her face she was standing at the ready. As Dianne came forward to retrieve the next bags Rick turned back around and watched her open them, noting her satisfaction.

"It's not much," she commented a few moments later, jostling the bag of scrap metal. She opened the other bag now and removed a box of ammunition, appearing somewhat dissatisfied with the amount in there. "You got any larger calibers for us?"

"Not enough to spare," he lied.

"If this is all you can come up with in two weeks then you've got a problem," Richard said bluntly. "You're worth nothing for us to trade with, and you're worth nothing to anyone else either."

"Thanks for the heads up."

"You should thank me," he said very seriously. "Is it a problem for you already?"

The latter comment made Dianne step closer to him, a whispered word shared between them as she placed her hand on his arm. She looked at him incredulously, and when they started whispering between themselves Rick pointedly cleared his throat. There was an awkward pause now, Richard and Dianne looking at each other and waiting for the other to give in.

"Is what a problem for me already?" Rick questioned, curious as to why such a comment had incited disagreement between them.

Dianne decided to concede, and she lowered her gaze as Richard continued. "Having enough to trade…enough left over at the end of the day," he said, appearing to chose his words carefully.

"We've never needed to trade."

It seemed this was all the information Richard was seeking, for now his expression seemed to soften. He gave a short nod, and then after a long moment he too looked into the bags of ammunition and scrap metal.

"Obviously you need to trade now," he remarked. "She asked for contraception when we first met," he explained as he gestured to Lana. "Antibiotics too. What else?"

"We're alright for now."

This comment seemed to annoy Richard, just as Rick knew it would. He was being purposefully obstinate, refusing to be the first to show his cards as they tentatively prepared to enter some kind of agreement.

Finally Richard seemed to turn his attention elsewhere, and he looked behind Rick now. "Hello there," he said tentatively. "It's nice to see you again."

A quick glance was all Rick needed to see that he was talking to Carrie, and that she seemed taken aback. Her eyes narrowed at him, and she folded her arms across her chest to show her discomfort. Now Richard seemed embarrassed by what he had said, and he hastened to speak again.

"I mean, I'm glad to see that you're alright," he clarified.

Carrie didn't say anything, her silence reminding Rick of how upset she had been three weeks ago, the day she had returned from the supply run in which they had encountered Richard and Dianne. There had been an incident between the two of them, having run into one another in a dark store. Carrie had panicked, reacting in a way that anyone in her position would have given what she'd been through.

Though Richard seemed annoyed that Carrie didn't say anything, he tried not to show it. Instead he turned on his heel and walked back to the horses, leaving them to watch him in curiosity. He and the young man spoke quietly as he untethered something from the horse's saddle, the youngster looking rather disappointed now. A moment later the reason for his disappointment was apparent, for Richard came around from the horse's other side carrying a black electric guitar. It's presence was so absurd and out of place that Rick had to look twice to be sure of what he was seeing, but there was no doubting it.

"You left this behind last month," Richard said to Carrie. "It was a great choice, it plays beautifully…Benjamin didn't want to give it up."

Though he came into the middle Richard did not put the guitar down, instead standing there with it. He looked at Carrie expectantly and then at the wider group, extending the hand he held it in as far away from himself as he could. When no one came forward to take it he furrowed his brow.

"You left it in the shopping cart, I assumed you wanted it," he said to Carrie, still holding it out. A few more moments passed in silence, Richard beginning to look impatient. "It used to cost over three thousand dollars, I'm not putting it on the ground."

Finally Carrie started forward, but she barely made it a step before Daryl cut in front of her. Lowering his crossbow to a less threatening hight he cautiously came forward, looking Richard in the eye and daring him to try anything. Leaving as much room between them as possible he reached out and took the guitar, and everyone seemed to give a small sigh of relief when the exchange was made and the two men backed away to their respective groups. From the corner of his eye Rick watched as Daryl handed the guitar to Carrie, who scrutinised it closely before slinging it over her shoulder by the leather strap.

"I had three in my shopping cart," she said, speaking for the first time. "This one, a Fender and a Gibson. Where are they?"

Rick barely managed to withhold his chuckle, surprised by her boldness. This group had been under no obligation to return something that another group had left behind, particularly given how much the young man, Benjamin, had apparently enjoyed it. She sure had some balls on her to pose them that question, and Rick was pleased to note that Richard and Dianne seemed amused. However their amusement was short lived, their serious tone returning.

"I would have liked to return all of them," he said, his words sounding genuine. "But I can only give you one."

There was a brief pause before Carrie spoke again. "You don't have to defend yourself," she remarked, at odds with her previous comment. "I wouldn't have returned any. Thank you."

Richard nodded, he and Dianne exchanging a small smile before he did the same with the other two in his group. "Well then, that's all out of the way," he said, his tone becoming a little more relaxed. "I'm Richard, this is Dianne," he introduced themselves for the benefit of those not there last time. "This is Colton and Daniel, and over there is Benjamin. That's us."

Going about the required pleasantries, Rick did the same thing. "I'm Rick, this is Abraham, Lana, Rosita…" he continued around his group, gesturing to each of them in turn. "…and Carrie."

Richard nodded as he followed along, taking particular notice of Carrie's introduction. "So, Rick…is that short for Richard?"

"No." His bluntness put a brief damper on things, but it wasn't as bad as it would soon be.

From his satchel he removed a yellow envelope, the same he himself had once received. There was a greater element of trust between the two groups now, for when he came forward and held the envelope out Richard didn't hesitate to come forward too. They made the exchange without incident, Richard managing a small nod of gratitude.

Standing by Dianne's side he opened the envelope and removed the photographs from inside. Their eyes widened when they realised what they were, that Rick was showing them the community they came from. They looked at the photographs in awe, passing them on to Colton and Daniel for them to see also. Keeping track of what they were looking at, Rick gave a short commentary.

"Our walls, solar panels…the greenhouse and gardens, our stable. That's my son and I…Buttons and Bubbles. Our hens Helga, Ginger and Patty. Our dog Barney."

"That's a nice picture," Richard said softly, looking at the photograph of Carl for a long moment. "How old is he?"

"Fifteen next month."

"Benjamin just turned eighteen…they might get along should they ever meet."

"They might," Rick agreed, watching as Dianne continued looking through the photographs and passing them on to Colton. Richard however kept looking at the photograph of Carl for a moment longer, perhaps thinking of someone he had once lost.

"What's this?" Dianne asked in confusion. She held up a photograph for him to see, unable to make out what it was.

"That's a nearby quarry."

"And it's significance?" Colton asked.

Rick didn't answer, instead looking at Dianne. Her expression had fallen when she turned to the next photograph, one that was a closer picture of the quarry and what it was containing. She was silent for a long moment before showing the picture to the others. Richard's eyes widened in horror, and he looked around at Rick.

"What is this?"

"That's a herd of the dead trapped in a quarry," he answered simply.

"A herd?"

"Yes. A herd which we're about to set free."

There was a flurry of concern among the four, Daniel coming forward and snatching the photograph from Dianne's hands. "What the fuck?" he questioned, all friendliness being set aside. "You're setting this free?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Dianne asked.

"Because sooner or later it's going to get free on it's own," he answered, gesturing to the sky as he continued. "This heavy rain might be enough to bring it all down. Providing those trucks hold up through the night, we're opening the quarry this weekend..

"You can't let this out!" Daniel shouted, his abrupt volume startling the horses. "Do you have any idea what the fuck you're doing?"

"This won't be our first rodeo," Abraham said, speaking for the first time. "We know exactly what we're doing…and it seems you know exactly the shit pit we'll all be in if this goes pear shaped."

As Daniel started to argue Dianne stepped forward and cut him off. "I get it," she said shortly, looking Rick in the eye. "You're using this against us to find out where we are. If we don't tell you, we risk you send it towards us."

Glad she had caught on so quickly, Rick nodded though he clarified. "We're not using this against you, this is a courtesy warning. There's thousands of Walkers in that quarry. If we accidentally sent them your way they'll probably just disperse and be a general nuisance. Or if the herd stays together it could bring you down. We don't want that."

Seething in anger Daniel turned and walked away, swearing again as he clenched his hands in his hair. Having somewhat of a similar reaction, Richard and Dianne stepped away and started speaking furiously, quickly dissolving into an argument. Waiting patiently for them to settle, Rick cast his eyes over the other man Colton, and then over to Benjamin. He was watching from afar, his face having fallen when he saw the fear and anger from the others. He stood with one hand on the rope tethering the horses, ready to remove it should they need to make a quick departure.

"Do you have a map?" Richard asked, coming back over.

As Dianne followed him in protest he briefly turned back to her, their whispered exchange becoming increasingly heated. While he waited for them Rick removed the map from his satchel, having come prepared for this very request. Moments later Dianne seemed to stand down, though she seemed far from pleased about it. With appropriate caution Richard approached him and looked at the map he had. From the corner of his eye Rick observed him closely, taking note of how stressed he was, how badly this had affected him. A sweat had broken out on his forehead, one that had nothing to do with the heat. Nevertheless he seemed to be calming, his eyes roving over the map as he ascertained the various roads.

"You're going to lead the herd away, right?" he began, continuing when Rick answered with a nod. "Where's the quarry?"

Rick quirked his eyebrow and then shook his head, refusing to tell him.

Taking a deep breath, Richard tried a different approach. "Alright…which of these roads here can you get them on?"

Considering the three roads carefully, Rick chose his words carefully. "Let's say any."

"Then any of these three. Send them north on one of these roads," he said, his tone indicating he thought that to be final.

Rick didn't hesitate, though he knew his next words would not be well received. "It's not going to work like that. You don't tell us where to send them, you tell us where not to send them."

"Fine. Don't send them east, south or west. Send them north," he said impatiently. "On one of these roads if you don't mind."

"Why?"

"Because that's the safest bet."

Holding his tongue for just a moment, Rick summoned all of his patience. "Richard…the longer you hold out from telling me where your group are, the more inclined I am to follow you back there today."

Richard's reaction was swift yet understandable, Rick's threat prompting him to shove him hard, the force knocking the wind out of him as he stumbled back. In a split second everything changed, both of the groups backing away from the other and drawing their weapons, the map falling to the ground in no man's land. Placing one hand on his chest Rick took a moment to catch his breath, using the opportunity to observe the change that had overcome Richard in that split second. He was aggressive and swift to react, prepared to stamp down any threat to his group's safety even if that meant losing the opportunity to trade…he was afraid.

He was shouting something now, his gun drawn and pointed at Rick whereas Abraham and Daryl stood calmly, warning him to stand down. A few moments passed in a tense silence, Rick looking between the different group members and searching for renewed aggression, for any indication someone was going to shoot. Finding nothing, he breathed in slowly and then stepped forward, the simple wave of his hand telling his whole group to stand down. As he knew he would be Daryl was the last to lower his weapon, doing so more slowly and cautiously than anyone else. A long moment passed before the other group too lowered their weapons.

"Are you all done now?" he asked impatiently, looking at each of them in turn before settling on Richard.

"We're not telling you where we are," Richard growled. "And if you fo-"

"Then you run the risk of us accidentally sending the herd to you."

"If you even think about following us back, you won't even make it two miles before we-"

"How long are we going to argue about this?"

Richard started to laugh incredulously, his hand drifting back to the weapon he had so recently holstered. "You try threatening us, and I will bring hellfire down on you," he threatened. "You've no idea what I can do to you, no idea who I co…" he trailed off now, looking at something over Rick's shoulder.

He turned just as Carrie passed him, her sudden movement taking him so by surprise that her name barely registered on his tongue before she was in the no man's land snatching up the map. Looking thoroughly impatient she stood straight and faced the other group, and whatever expression she had on her face had stunned them into silence.

"You, and you," she said, pointing to Richard and then to Colton. "Come with me, now."

Disbelief registered on their faces as she marched right past them and headed towards the Monument, roughly folding the map and starting to fan herself with it. Feeling equally in disbelief, Rick could barely manage the words he said when Richard looked at him for clarification. "You heard her…go."

There were clearly hesitating, but finally Richard and Colton turned away and followed her, sharing a loaded glance with the rest of their group as they departed. Sharing their disbelief, Rick watched as Carrie slowed to a stop quite far away, and then realised her tact. Not only was she getting two of them alone to talk to them calmly, she was seeking refuge from the heat in the shadow of the Monument. She continued fanning herself as she waited, and when she had to unfold the map and start looking at it she raised her water bottle and took a long drink. The heat was indeed affecting her right now, making Rick wish he hadn't agreed to her request that she accompany them today. She ought to be at home in the air conditioning, putting her feet up.

"What the hell is she doing?" Lana asked, coming up from behind him and standing at his side.

"Her job," Rick admitted. This was the type of thing Carrie was good at. She had diplomacy, she could tolerate heightened emotions and keep herself separate from it.

"Her job is to talk to them alone? She could be saying anything."

"Lana," Rick sighed, having had enough of their rivalry and mistrust. "Give it a rest."

Despite the harshness of his tone it seemed she didn't take offence to what he said, though she did take notice. Wisely choosing to shut up she turned away and wandered off a few yards, taking down some of the Walkers that were closing in on them. A low whistle from Benjamin caught the attention of Daniel, who after sharing a brief word with Dianne took off at a slow jog. He went to Benjamin and then ushered him towards the sole Walker that was approaching the horses, and Rick watched in fascination as he methodically coached him through dispensing of it. Daniel came up in front of the Walker and placed his hand on it's chest, keeping it at arm's length while his protective gear and gloves protected him from the teeth that tried to bite him. With only a moment of hesitation Benjamin came up behind the Walker and plunged his knife up through the back of the neck, giving a shout of delight when it fell to the ground motionless. Apparently proud of him, Daniel patted him on the back before ushering him over to another and going through the same process.

Surprised, Rick looked at Dianne who was now avoiding his gaze. It surprised him that an eighteen year old these days needed to be coached through killing a Walker. For him to have made it this long without learning meant that he had been adequately protected and sheltered throughout the outbreak. The group he came from was large and strong enough to provide that sheltered existence, to give him a few more years of childhood before bringing him out into the cruel world. As he thought about his own son, Rick couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment, envious of these people and what they must have at their disposal.

Focusing on what mattered most right now, Rick turned his attention back to Carrie, glad to note that Daryl had moved a few yards closer to be there should she need him. But she looked completely in control, she, Richard and Colton calmly discussing the map and tracing out various routes. A few moments passed in that fashion before Richard suddenly turned away, his thunderous expression an indication that things were going sour, but not if Carrie had anything to do with it. She shouted something indistinguishable at him, and when he saw her expression and physical stance Rick couldn't help but smile. He knew that body language, and he knew the words that were usually directed at him in such instances.

 _"Don't walk away from me Rick Grimes, I'm not done yelling at you!"_

To his credit, Richard took a deep breath to steady himself, rolling his shoulders back a couple of times before returning to her. They continued discussing the map, and another five minutes passed before they seemed to reach some kind of an agreement. Rick watched on in disbelief as Carrie and Richard shook hands now, looking satisfied as she turned to Colton and shook his too. Without further preamble they parted ways, Carrie heading off first while Richard and Colton lingered back and let her gain a few paces. They followed now, keeping a respectful distance of the woman who had been so afraid the first time they met. But today it was as if the incident three weeks ago had never happened.

As Carrie walked past him he gave her a short nod of approval, but when he saw the indication she was going to brush her hand past his he looked away, pocketing his hand. It deterred her from the display of affection. No matter how innocent it may be, they didn't need to tell these people any more about them than they already knew, they didn't need to share which of their relationships might be considered more important than others. No matter what, Rick was going to keep their guard up. There was a comfortable silence now, Richard and Colton having returned to their group to converse with them, close enough to hear their low murmurs but not to distinguish them. They started passing the photographs back to Colton who collected them in the envelope, and at the quiet instructions of Dianne he removed a lighter from his pocket.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rick demanded, starting forward as Colton brought the lighter to the corner of the envelope.

"I'm doing you a favour," he said shortly.

With a swift click he struck a flame and lit the envelope, dragging the flame along the edges and then carefully placing it into the ground where it began to burn. Smoke rose up from it, the photographs Aaron had so lovingly printed in his dark room curling at the edges. A flurry of discomfort swept across Rick's group, everyone tensing up as they waited for him to respond, to indicate how this disregard would be handled. For a moment he looked at the photographs as they burned, the flames picking up and sweeping across the entire envelope, but before he could say or do anything Richard came forward, his expression apologetic.

"We're sorry," he said quietly, gesturing to the photographs. "But don't show that to anyone else. You sure have a lot to lose."

* * *

It was a God send to get home and have the luxury of taking a cool shower, to be able to strip naked and discard the clothing dampened with sweat in favour of running water. For almost twenty minutes Carrie stood under the running water as she cooled down, and although she was grateful to have attended the meeting in Washington, she was more grateful that it was over. Like always there had been much to discuss with Deanna and the others upon their return home, particularly on Carrie's part. But she had run through her thoughts and then took her leave as quickly as possible, and she was glad no one questioned her rush to go.

Reluctantly turning off the running water she wrung out of wet hair and let it drip onto the shower floor. Standing naked in the bathroom she wrapped her hair in a towel and then dabbed a little moisturiser onto her face, enjoying the pleasant fragrance that still reminded her of life before the outbreak. Still seeking refuge from the humidity she made her way back into the bedroom where a pedestal fan stood nearby Judith's crib, keeping her cool as she took her afternoon nap. Carrie stood in it's path for a little while and allowed the cool gusts of air to dry her off. Noticing that Judith's eyes were slowly fluttering open, Carrie then lay down on the bed and closed her eyes, not wanting to disturb her. She was tired now, and so she took the opportunity for some gluttonous relaxation before facing the rest of the day ahead. There would be much more to talk about…the meeting with Richard's group had given them a lot to consider.

When the aggression began to show her first instinct was that they should leave, that they should abandon this opportunity as a lost cause and get out before things turned ugly. Certainly it seemed headed that way after Richard lashed out at Rick, though his reaction was justified given what Rick was threatening him with. But just as the instinct to leave occurred to her so did a profound sense of confidence…coupled with impatience. Before she knew it she was starting forward, snatching up the map from the ground and telling two strange men to follow her. It was most out of character for her, and she didn't blame the surprised looks these people gave her. She supposed they were likely similar to the expressions her own group must have, which was perhaps why she didn't turn around to seek their support.

She needed to get the hell out of that heat, which was why she walked all the way over to the shadow of the Washington monument. Instantly she began to feel better, the steady drip of sweat that ran between her breasts slowing for the short while she stood beneath that shadow. She couldn't understand how Rick happily wore his long jeans all through the summer, how it never seemed to bother him, though she supposed growing up in Georgia might have something to do with that.

"Was it really necessary to come all the way over here?" Richard had questioned, looking back at Dianne who stood alone with the strangers.

"Yes, it was," she said bluntly. Still fanning herself with the map she looked between the two men, unsure of the second's name. "Richard and…"

"Colton," the dark haired man answered.

"Right," she muttered, trying to collect her thoughts. This was a simple negotiation, two parties trying to find a mutually beneficial compromise without first showing their hand. "Here are the facts. We could have talked about this a week ago, but you insisted on postponing until today. Now it's almost too late, and with this bad weather coming the herd could break out at any minute."

"What's holding it in?" Colton asked in concern.

"A couple of semi trailers parked right on the edge," she answered, wishing she brought the photographs over. "Once one of them goes, we will have no choice but to follow through with our plan and get them all out at once."

With a heavy sigh Richard seemed to step away for a moment, clearly trying to collect himself. "So, what?" he started, gritting his teeth. "You're saying there's no time?"

"There might not be."

"Then why bother asking where we are?" he suddenly exclaimed, raising his voice. "Why bother telling us any of this?"

"Because we'd like to know all the facts…we'd like to know if letting them out is going to endanger anyone." To her disbelief Richard turned and started to leave, his head bowed and his eyes glaring at the ground, but he wasn't going to make it far. "We are not done talking," she said firmly. "Hey! I said we're not done!"

She was pleased with the way Richard slowed to a stop with a heavy sigh, and as he stood there in silence she glanced at Colton to gauge his thoughts. Like Richard, he seemed quite unnerved by what they had come to learn, he was anxious about the implications, but Carrie got the feeling she could use him to her advantage. Of the whole group he was the one who hadn't reacted with anger and confrontation when they explained the herd in the quarry, he hadn't leapt at the conflict that arose. Instead he took it with a more thoughtful approach, which is why Carrie chose to deliver her explanation to he and Richard together.

Finally Richard returned to them, his arms folded and his face set in a scowl. He didn't like any of what they had learned, feeling cornered and threatened by a group he appeared to have good intentions towards.

"Well?" he asked expectantly.

"We have an opportunity to help one another out here," Carrie resumed, making a point of softening her tone and body language. "We don't want to be the assholes who send thousands of Walkers to you."

"I get how that helps us," Richard agreed, he too making an effort. "But how does that help you?"

Carrie paused, considering the answer that had been discussed among her group much over the last few weeks. "There'll come a time when we need something from you. Supplies, a cow, a doctor's visit…you have a doctor?"

"We've been lucky in that sense," Colton admitted.

"Good, because we've been less lucky," she replied, though she didn't go into detail. "So at some stage we'll need something from you. We'll come knocking on your door and politely remind you about the thousands of Walkers we didn't send your way."

Richard seemed unconvinced. "You said it's too late to change anything."

"No, I didn't," she insisted. "I said there might not be enough time. We're ready with the plan we have, changing it now will take a lot of work and more supplies than we have on hand. Changing the plan now is a huge risk, but we will do that if we know it will protect you."

"What do you need?" Richard suddenly asked, looking to Colton for support. "Whatever you need to send this north, we will give it to you. Supplies, material, labour…anything."

Carrie paused, considering this offer. While it had occurred to them such an offer might be extended, Richard's insistence on the matter was bothering her. Why was he so adamant about sending them north? What did he know that she didn't?

"Why north?" she questioned. Immediately it was clear to her they had hoped to avoid this question. She felt spots of rain beginning to fall, though it did nothing to ease the humidity and heat.

"North is away from us," Colton said nonchalantly, but his slight air of discomfort was of no reassurance.

"Alright," she said, not quite believing him. "So, you're south of the city?"

"What is it going to take?" Richard interrupted. "What if we secure those trucks and buy some time? If we buy some time and we help, can you send them north?"

Considering this, Carrie glanced back at the rest of her group. She knew what Rick would say, that he would stick to his decision and refuse their help until they gave up their location…but she didn't necessarily have to play it his way. She knew how to negotiate with people, how to offer straightforward reasoning and logic to win her argument and solidify her stance.

"Maybe we could make that work," she said, though she held no faith in these words. "But it's much more logical for you to tell me where _not_ to send the herd, than it is to tell me where. Where not to send it still leaves me with a lot of options. It would be wasteful to change our plans if we didn't have to, just because you don't want to share your location."

Richard shook his head insistently. "We will make this work," he implored her. "How long do you think the quarry will hold?"

"It will all depend on how bad the weather is," she said, gesturing to the sky as more droplets of rain fell. "Maybe we'll make it through the weekend, but we're doubtful."

"Alright then," Richard said, sounding as though this was the final decision. "We'll meet here again and talk things over properly, we'll set up a plan."

"When?"

"First day of clear weather," he suggested.

Though it was a reasonable suggestion, Carrie held no confidence in the plan. "Alright, we can do that…but Richard, we might not make it that long. If the herd breaks out before we're ready, there's nothing we can do to stop it."

"Yes, of course."

"You need to tell us where your people are," she insisted, circling back to their initial request. "At least your vicinity. If things go bad, we'll do everything in our power not to send the herd towards you, but we need to know where you are to do that."

There was a long pause now, Richard looking her in the eye and holding her gaze. She waited patiently, and when he turned away and looked at Colton she knew he was going to tell her. Though it seemed Richard was clearly in charge, it seemed Colton had made up his mind and would make himself heard. A few moments passed, the two men stepping away to confer. They glanced over at Dianne and Daniel as they talked, Richard scowling all the while.

"I want your word first," he began when they return. "Your word that you'll wait for us before doing anything."

With nothing to lose and everything to gain, for she had no intention of holding her group to this agreement, Carrie extended her hand. "You have my word. We'll wait as long as we can."

Richard took her hand and they shook on the agreement, as did Colton.

"We're near Chillum."

Carrie frowned, her jolt of satisfaction quickly turning into confusion. "That's north. Near one of those roads you pointed out to us."

"Yes," Colton nodded.

She gave an incredulous laugh. "You want me to send the herd north? Towards you?"

"Technically we're north east," Richard clarified, his mind made up. "We'll help you send them north."

Richard's tone of voice indicated to her that the conversation was over, that he had nothing left to say, and she was forced to accept this. She wanted to question him more, to better understand why they wanted Alexandria to send the herd on a road that would bring them straight past their vicinity, but there was no chance right now. Taking what she could get she allowed the conversation to conclude, figuring she already had a great deal of information to bring to her group for consideration.

Still laying naked on her bed she turned her head as she heard footsteps on the stairs, conscious of who it might be. Listening carefully she was reassured that it was only Rick coming up. The footsteps were not loud and obnoxious enough to be Carl's, but nor were they almost silent which ruled out Daryl too. Nevertheless she got to her feet and wrapped the towel around her body, feeling that she just needed a little privacy today. She wasn't in the mood for intimacy, and had avoided even innocent gestures of affection Rick had tried to share with her. A kiss on the cheek, the touch of his hand…she simply wasn't in the mood for it today. If he had asked her about it she would have blamed the heat and stress of the meeting for her behaviour, even though she didn't know why sometimes she felt this way, why one day she would be perfectly comfortable with him smacking her ass as he walked by, and the next day she couldn't stand to even hold his hand.

Seeking a little privacy she headed into their walk in closet just as he entered the bedroom, and though she left the door ajar so that they could still talk it was the element of seclusion she needed to feel comfortable. Getting organised she looked at her assortment of clothing, a collection she had amassed through months of living in Alexandria. The idea of having to put on a bra was most unwelcome and so she selected a comfortable dress, one she wore on the days when she simply lazed around the house watching television with Carl.

"Are you feeling better?" Rick called out to her from the bedroom, having been concerned about her in the heat that afternoon.

"Much better," she assured him. "Thanks."

As she slipped the dress on she moved her hands over her lower belly, admiring the shape that had seemed particularly prominent when she was laying down before. Though she had been starting to enjoy and feel excited about her pregnancy, she was also now dealing with another new emotion, one she hadn't expected…paranoia. Weeks had passed since this all become real, since she had accepted the fact she was going to become a mother, but in the interim she had started waiting for the other shoe to drop. Paranoia was starting to feel like a second shadow, compelling her to go back to see Denise twice now, and neither time had she told Rick. At both visits everything had been perfectly fine, the baby looking as expected and the heartbeat steady and strong, and she had no symptoms that would suggest otherwise…but nor had she had symptoms when she miscarried her first pregnancy. All she knew back then was that during her eight week scan there had been a heartbeat, and a week later when she presented at her doctor's office with bleeding there was nothing but heavy silence on the ultrasound.

Now that was all coming back to her, the paranoia of this happening to her again haunting her. It didn't matter that her pregnancy was largely beyond her control, nor that she was already doing everything she was supposed to do. Her excitement made her wary, fearful that now her heart was invested in this pregnancy she was going to lose it all…and so would Rick.

"Are you ready to get up, Judy Pie?"

Fully dressed Carrie towel dried her hair as she came out of their closet, watching fondly as Rick approached the crib where Judith lay, repeating the question as he leant down and stroked her hair. A grumpy murmur was all he needed to hear, for although Judith had been laying awake in her crib for a short while she was not yet finished with her rest. It was rare that she lay awake in her crib, but with the heat today she was content to finish her nap in peace.

"Daryl's out somewhere," Rick began as he walked into the closet she had just vacated. He had been waiting for her to come out, her behaviour that day having told him to give her some space. "Carl's downstairs…he's in a good mood. Are you ready for this?"

Glad that they were going to tell him about the pregnancy, Carrie nodded her head. "I'm ready. You're not taking a shower?" she asked, surprised that he was selecting a clean shirt.

He shook his head, discarding his dirty shirt into the hamper and pulling on the clean one.  
"No, I'm going out to the quarry later."

Carrie held her breath for a moment, bracing herself for the disagreement that she was determined to win. "No," she said firmly. "If we're telling Carl about the baby, then you're not leaving right after. You're staying home."

He looked around at her in surprise, for it was rare that they made such instruction as to what the other could and could not do. "I have to go."

"No, you don't," she stated calmly. As she spoke she collected her towel and then hung it up in the bathroom, bringing her hairbrush out as she continued. "I know this is a huge operation, but you were meant to be taking a step back."

Rick frowned as her words sank in, and then he became defensive. "I have taken a step back. I've been there for Carl, for both of you."

"And the herd shouldn't change that."

"Shouldn't change that?" he questioned in disbelief. "The herd changes a lot of things, Carrie. I have to be involved, period."

"It doesn't change the fact that Carl still needs you. He is not suddenly all better. He still needs his father to be around, especially today."

"What about you then?" he questioned, a hint of anger showing in his voice. "Our baby needs you to be looking after yourself. It-"

"I hav-"

"It doesn't need you out in the heat, looking like you're about to pass out from heat stroke."

"I have been taking care of myself," she replied, taking care to keep her voice low lest Carl be within hearing distance. "And I am stepping back from things."

Rick raised his eyebrows at this. "Doesn't look like it to me. You've been out every day for the last three weeks."

"I've been on watch. Sitting on top of a car with a pair of binoculars. Taking water to people. It's not strenuous work."

"You're still out there in the heat," he argued insistently, showing her how much this had been bothering him. "You're still out there risking your life…risking our baby's life."

Carrie blinked silently, unable to reply. He was touching on points that she had tried hard not to think about over the last few weeks, for now that she felt invested in the pregnancy the fact she had been on so many supply runs made her feel ashamed, embarrassed. "Rick, I need you to stay home today," she said quietly. "You are not giving your son this news and then leaving me alone with him. You know what he's been like."

Like the other times, Rick seemed to wave off her remark. "He's just being a teenager."

"I don't care. I need you here for his sake. I can't help him," she said sadly. "He won't let me."

There was a long pause now, both of them having delivered their ultimatums and now waiting for the other to respond. Finally Rick gave a heavy sigh and started towards her, his hands opening the buttons on his clean shirt as he shrugged it off.

"You know, maybe Carl will benefit from having you around too," he said as he walked past her to the bathroom.

Nothing more was said, the door closing and the running water starting a few moments later. Her eyes having welled up at the last minute Carrie took a deep breath and wiped them, not surprised by her emotional reaction. Before Pete's attack and the pregnancy she wouldn't have cried after an argument, especially one that was as tame as that had been. These days however she felt like a wreck, her emotions often coming out of no where and taking her by surprise. Despite their brief argument she was glad that Rick had agreed to her request, him taking a shower indicating that he was done for the day, that he wouldn't be going outside the walls again. He had listened to her, and so she listened to him in turn…a compromise had to go both ways.

After collecting herself she went towards Judith's crib, suspecting that she was ready to get up after all. When Judith eagerly reached for her Carrie pulled her into her arms, kissing her forehead and using her fingers to neaten up her hair. Carl had put her to bed in just her diaper, and so Carrie redressed her in a loose dress not unlike her own and then changed her diaper, but upon seeing the heat rash on her legs she opted not to put another on. Instead she wiped her down and then smeared some diaper cream onto the rash. Leaving her without a diaper but bringing one with her just in case, Carrie brought her down stairs and set her into the highchair with the promise of a popsicle. She didn't care if Judith happened to pee without her diaper on, there were worse things.

"You and Dad got anymore dirty laundry?" Carl asked, noticing she had showered and changed.

"Yeah. In our hamper, and probably the bathroom too."

Without another word Carl headed upstairs to collect the laundry. It hadn't come as a surprise to Carrie that she and Rick returned home to find no chores had been completed during their absence. At his request Rick had allowed him to stay home from school to look after his sister, and despite having no other responsibilities to attend to that day he had made little effort around the house while they were gone. It irked Carrie to no end, for prior to the last few weeks he was a routine contributor when he was feeling well, always asking what needed to be done and keeping his complaints to a minimum. Recently however that had changed, and it seemed Carl preferred to sulk around at home while leaving his used dishes in the sink and the dirty laundry unattended to.

If she wasn't mistaken she had heard Rick scolding him when they had returned home, when he thought she was upstairs out of ear shot. Carl had complained he didn't feel well, but that hadn't stopped him hanging out with Enid or playing his Playstation. Rick's suggestion that Carl might benefit from having her around too hadn't fallen on deaf ears, though she did question how that might help.

As she turned towards the refrigerator to get Judith a popsicle Carrie slowed to a stop, frowning as she looked at what had appeared on the dining table. A small smile graced her face as she came over and looked at the small bunch of Daisies in the vase, her heart warming as she admired them. They hadn't been here when they came home from Washington, she was certain of it. Rick must have picked them for her while she was in the shower. It had crossed her mind that although he was openly affectionate with his love for her, often times he struggled with romantic gestures.

She brushed her fingers over some of the petals, glad that just like everything else they were a little imperfect, not that it mattered. With a small spring in her step she returned to the kitchen and fetched Judith the promised popsicle, taking a moment to have her own taste of it too. She was still nervous about what was about to happen, but the simplicity of Rick's gesture was comforting for her. While Judith happily sucked on her popsicle, Carrie bustled around in the kitchen. It seemed Carl had made a hasty effort to stack the dishwasher and wipe down the sink, but still there were crumbs on the counter, a sure indication he hadn't bothered with a cutting board when he made lunch.

While she tidied she listened as Carl came down stairs and shoved some laundry into the washing machine, the cupboards opening and closing as he added detergent and then put it away. Though he wasn't outright rude, his demeanour to her still felt a little cool and unwelcoming when he came back to the living room and resumed his place on the couch. With barely a word he pressed play on the DVD he had been watching, the sound of Bruce Willis in Die Hard stemming any opportunity for conversation.

Feeling too unsure of herself to join him in the living room, Carrie stayed with Judith in the kitchen, gladly accepting a few more tastes of the popsicle. Soon enough the running water from the shower upstairs ceased, and a few minutes later when she was wiping down Judith's face, arms and hands Rick came downstairs.

"Carl. Television off in five minutes," he instructed.

"Why?"

"Because I need to talk to you about something."

Carrie held her breath, waiting for Carl to question his father again, to become suspicious. But nothing of the sort happened, Carl simply nodding his head and turning his attention back to the television. Apparently not nervous at all Rick came into the kitchen and took a bowl of leftovers from the refrigerator, nonchalantly beginning to eat after the many hours since breakfast. As he chewed Carrie caught his attention and then gestured to the daisies on the dining room table, mouthing the words _thank you_ to him. He smiled a little, glad she had noticed the gesture.

"And you say I'm not romantic," he said proudly.

They fell back into silence as Rick continued eating, looking around the kitchen as if wondering what they would eat for dinner that night. He seemed unworried by the prospect of what they were doing, and Carrie wished he would show something other than comfortable ease. Her nerves were growing, very conscious of the fact that many things were about to change. For the longest time she had kept news of her pregnancy to herself, and there had been a definite adjustment after sharing it with Rick. Now they were facing a similar adjustment that would come from telling Carl…she needed this to go well, they all did.

"You ready?" Rick enquired, discarding his used plate into the sink. When she nodded he cast his eyes over Judith who was amusing herself and then got a start. "Carl? Turn the TV off, please."

He gave an impatient sigh, but obediently paused the movie he was watching and then turned the television off. As Rick went into the living room and sat down on the coffee table Carl slowly pushed himself upright, looking at his father expectantly. As she too sat down on the coffee table Carl looked at her in confusion, seeking an explanation as if he hadn't been a jerk to her all week. Setting that all aside she tried to give him a reassuring smile, hoping to convey that everything was alright even though he was about to get news that would change all of their lives.

"Carl, I know that things have been tough lately," Rick began, his voice heavy with seriousness. "It's not been easy for a long time, and the herd at the quarry means that Carrie and I have not been around much."

"Yeah," Carl slowly replied, still looking between them.

"Well," Rick continued, glancing at Carrie as he spoke. "We've got some news that will make things harder, that will-"

"Are you breaking up?"

Carl was sitting forward now, looking at them in alarm. His concerned tone made Carrie's heart lift, for his alarm at the very thought of them breaking up was a relief to her. He looked at Rick expectantly, sitting up straighter as he awaited his answer.

"No," Rick assured him. "Nothing like that."

Carl visibly relaxed now, his relief only bolstering Carrie's own. She was glad that he seemed invested in the success of their relationship, that he had grown to love and value it just as much as she had. But despite that Carl's approval hadn't yet been tested as strongly as it was about to be.

"Then what's wrong?" he asked slowly, going back to looking between the two of them.

There was a pause as Rick took a deep breath, and he turned to Carrie. He smiled at her now, one she managed to return as he reached over to ask for her hand. Holding her gaze he entwined their fingers and gently squeezed, bracing himself before he turned back to his son.

"Carrie and I are having a baby. She's pregnant."

In an instant Carl's face fell, as did Carrie's heart. His reaction was immediately apparent, his lips parting in surprise. He looked at her blankly, his expression frozen as he tried to comprehend what he had just learned. It was her he kept looking at, and she couldn't help but find a sense of accusation in his gaze, a sense of strong disapproval. Trying not to get ahead of herself Carrie started to say something, to offer an empty reassurance that everything would be alright, but she stopped. Rick had subtly raised his other hand, the movement a gentle request that she wait.

The moments passed in agonising silence, and finally Carl tore his eyes off her and looked at Rick instead. "Why?"

Taking his time, Rick took a deep breath before responding. "The honest answer is that it's come as a surprise to us…a happy surprise."

Carl seemed flabbergasted at this, and he looked at Rick in astonishment, directing his disapproval at him instead. "Y-you…" he started, trailing off awkwardly. He looked at Carrie again, still in disbelief. "You're pregnant?"

"Yes," she said.

His eyes dropped to her body now, automatically seeking out the evidence. "But why?" he asked again.

Unable to stomach the accusing stare Carrie deferred to Rick, wanting him to handle this. She didn't know what to say, she didn't know how to respond. He wasn't taking this well so far, he was blaming her…or at least that's how it felt. Without warning Carl lurched as if to stand up, but a short shake of Rick's head saw him stop in his tracks. For a long moment he stood in a half standing position, glaring at Rick until he slowly resumed his seat.

"Why would you do that to her?" he angrily demanded.

"Carl, we-"

"What's wrong with you?" His voice was escalating now, drawing the attention of Judith who had been climbing up onto the end of the couch. "What about Mom?"

Rick seemed taken aback, and he frowned as he squared his shoulders. "This has nothing to do with your mom."

"Yes, it does. Mom's dead because you got her pregnant. So you do the same thing to Carrie?"

Conscious of the gravity of the conversation, Carrie hid her surprise at Carl's remark. _Mom's dead because you got her pregnant_ _…_ those had been his words. Hadn't Rick told him about Shane? Didn't Carl know that Rick might not be Judith's father?

"Why weren't you using cond - I mean, you know!" Carl spluttered in embarrassment, his cheeks reddening. "Protection! Why weren't you using protection?"

"The hows and whys are not your concern," Rick began sternly. "Yo-"

"But you didn't use protection, right?" he continued, looking only at Rick. "After everything you told me about girls and sex, and you didn't do any of it?"

As Rick started to reply, his temper beginning to flare, Carrie placed her hand on his leg. The small gesture was enough to stop him, her touch making him turn away from Carl and look at her instead. She held his gaze for a moment, feeling surprisingly confident with what she started to say.

"Carl, your dad probably told you a lot of things about girls and sex," she began, looking him in the eye. "He probably also told you that it only takes once for this to happen. That's all it took for us. One time being irresponsible, that's all."

He looked at her in astonishment, his lips parted again as he tried to say something but couldn't summon the words. She let her explanation settle, trying not to hold her breath as she waited for Carl to collect himself. A range of emotions were crossing his face, outrage and frustration the most prominent, but slowly they were followed by confusion and then pity.

"So, you were…" he began, his tone of voice much less confrontational now that he directed it to her. "You were being responsible?"

"Yes," she confirmed, recalling how regimented they used to be before all of this. "But one time we weren't. It was a stupid decision, one that has had consequences," she said heavily, wanting to emphasise the gravity of their spur of the moment risk.

"Well, yeah…you're pregnant."

"Yes," she agreed heavily. But as she continued she felt her heart starting to lift again, her explanation to Carl providing the same type of relief she felt when she had finally told Rick. "I know we didn't plan this. We didn't want this to happen, but it has…and we're excited," she said gently, looking at Rick with a small smile. "We're happy."

Rick nodded in agreement, tentatively placing his hand over hers and entwining their fingers. "Carrie's right. It's taken us by surprise, but we're happy."

Though he no longer seemed angry and confrontational, it seemed Carl still harboured some strong feelings of disapproval. He sat slumped into the couch, still looking between the two of them in utter disbelief. They allowed him some time to process this, not pushing him to give any sort of response. Much to their relief he spoke a few moments later. "How long have you known?"

"I…" she started, trying to recall. "I found out almost two months ago, and I told your dad two weeks ago."

This information seemed to pique his interest, and he sat forward with his elbows on his knees. His brow furrowed as he looked at her in concern. "Why did you wait so long?"

Carrie hesitated, wondering how honest she should be with him. Finally she settled on the truth. "It was easier not to tell anyone," she said quietly, squeezing Rick's hand. "I was very scared."

Carl nodded, appreciating her honesty. "Were you worried about what dad would say?"

"Yes. I was worried he would be angry…and also that he'd be happy."

Carl glanced at Rick, and then back at Carrie. "That doesn't make sense."

"I was worried that he might be happy," she repeated. "And I didn't want him to know that I wasn't."

"Oh," Carl murmured. He seemed shocked at this remark, taken aback by the knowledge that she had struggled with the news. "But, you're happy now, right?"

"Yes, I am. It's been hard on me…on both of us," she added. "But we're happy."

"Carrie's right," Rick implored, speaking for the first time in a minute or so. "This baby is going to be a good thing."

Despite their assurances Carl still seemed unconvinced, not that Carrie could blame him. He slumped back into the couch again, looking rather exasperated by the whole thing. "So, that's it then," he said softly, looking at Carrie in concern. "You're having a baby."

"Yes."

"When?"

"Denise said some time in March, the same month as Judy. I'm almost fifteen weeks along."

"Oh," Carl said, his interest aroused now. He straightened up a little, his gaze drifting back down her body as he looked for the evidence, disappointed when he found none. "Alright."

There was a heavy pause, Rick rubbing his thumb over the back of Carrie's hand as he gave her a supportive nod. "Do you have questions? Anything you want to ask?"

Carl pondered still, his expression having become a little glum. "You've been to see Denise, right? Is everything okay?" He turned to Carrie, looking at her seriously. "You don't have what my mom did, do you?"

She shook her head, knowing he referred to the placenta previa. "No, I don't. Everything's fine."

Beside her Rick shifted a little and released her hand, and then to her surprise he pulled an ultrasound photo from his pocket. He passed it over to Carl, both of them waiting with bated breath as he took the picture and looked at it. His eyes widened in amazement, and perhaps using what he had learned from looking at Herschel's ultrasound he scanned the photograph and made out the various features.

"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"It's too early to tell," Carrie replied. "But maybe we'll find out in a few months."

Rick made a small laugh under his breath, reminding her that this had been a point of contention between the two of them. Carrie wanted to find out the gender as soon as possible, whereas Rick felt less urgent about the reveal, preferring to be surprised when the baby was born.

"Carl…are you okay?" Rick asked next, impatiently trying to gauge his feelings.

"Sure."

"Are you…happy for us?" he asked tentatively. "Mad?"

"Ummm," he replied before frowning. "Kind of…"

"Kind of mad?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

As Rick kept trying to elicit a better explanation from him, Carrie took her hand out of his and placed it on his knee. The gesture was enough to make him take pause, to look around at her. Unlike the calm facade he wore before this, he now nervously awaited Carl's final feelings, but she didn't want Carl to be pushed in to what he felt.

"It's okay for you to not know how you feel about this," she said softly. "It took me a long time to figure it out myself. We don't expect you to know how you feel right away."

Though she knew he had heard her, Carl didn't really respond to what she had said, simply looking at the ultrasound photograph. He nodded slowly, still looking at the ultrasound. "Congratulations, I guess."

"Thanks," they both said quietly, knowing it wasn't said wholeheartedly.

"I get it that you're happy and everything," Carl continued, looking only at Rick as he passed back the ultrasound. "But you really shouldn't let this happen again. You should have been more careful."

Rick raised an eyebrow at this as he took the ultrasound photograph back. "I'll take your advice under consideration."

"Well maybe you should," Carl lectured. "This is the third time you're having a kid you didn't want."

Carrie's heart faltered for a moment, the harsh implication of the latter remark striking a nerve that had bothered her ever since she had found out. It seemed Rick felt the same, for his shoulders tensed as he sat up a little straighter, but he didn't let it slide.

"That is not true," he said firmly, looking Carl in the eye and holding his gaze. "There's a difference between a baby who is unplanned and a baby who is unwanted. This baby is very much wanted, and loved," he said, emphasising these words words. "Just your sister, and just like you. Do you understand?"

Carl nodded in understanding, suitably chastised for his remark. He gave a heavy sigh as he turned and looked at his sister. Ever cheerful, she sat on the couch beside him, pleased to be sitting next to her big brother who she adored. Though she seemed to be paying close attention to the concerning tone of conversation, she was also taking advantage of his divided attention by eating the home made potato chips from his bowl.

"Okay, I get it," he muttered. There was a long because before he looked up at them again. "You guys are getting married now, right?" he asked expectantly.

"No," Carrie answered, wanting to make this clear. "We're not getting married."

It was very obvious that this came as a surprise to Rick, who had turned to look at her in surprise, not bothering to hide his disapproval of this. Carl too was giving her the same disapproving look, but she held her ground, even when he protested.

"But you have to get married," he argued. "You're having a baby."

"No," she repeated. "Having a baby is not a good enough reason for two people to get married. It won't be the reason your dad and I get married."

"Carrie's right," Rick agreed, much to her relief.

Carl looked at them both, flabbergasted. "But…"

"When we decide to get married, it won't be because I'm pregnant," she insisted. "It will be because we're choosing to spend our lives together, not because we feel like we have to."

At this Carl's expression changed, his features softening as realisation came over him. A softly muttered _oh_ passed his lips, and as he yielded to her reasons he sat back into the couch. The silence was tense again as they nervously awaited the resolution of this conversation.

"Can I go out for a while?" he finally asked, his voice sounded dejected.

"Yes, you may."

As Carl started to stand Carrie pressed her hand into Rick's leg, making him look at her. "Rick…"

In an instant he remembered the last thing they needed to say, and so he hastily told Carl to wait, asking him to resume his seat for just a minute longer. "There's one more thing to discuss. We need you to keep this to yourself for a little longer. You're not to tell anyone."

Carl looked at them in surprise, his brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"We're not ready for anyone else to know just yet," she explained, clarifying the truth a moment later. "I'm not ready."

"But you're fifteen weeks," Carl argued, not understanding. "You only have to wait twelve, that's how long Maggie said she waited."

"It's not about that," Rick tried to explain. "We will tell people when we're ready to. When the time is right."

"But…" he started, sounding disappointed now. "But everyone will be really excited."

"Yes, they will," Rick agreed. "But it's not the right time, not for Carrie and I, not for anyone. Our focus now needs to be on the quarry herd, on the new group from Washington, and on you."

Carl seemed rather taken aback by this, and he slowly blinked in surprise. "Me?"

"Yes," Rick said heavily. "I know I've not been around much in the few weeks, and I know that's been hard on you. And I know you had a fever last week."

Carl huffed in annoyance, his lips curling in distaste as he folded his arms across his chest. "I asked Denise not to tell you that."

"She didn't tell me. Enid did."

"Oh…right." Apparently uncomfortable that Rick knew he had been unwell, Carl quickly changed the subject and turned to Carrie. "So you're not going out anymore, right?"

Carrie hesitated, but thankfully Rick spoke on her behalf, his words surprising her. "That's for Carrie to decide."

"But you can't go on runs," he insisted, appealing to Rick for support. "Dad, you can't le-"

"That's for Carrie to decide."

Carl looked at him in surprise, and given the conversation they'd just had upstairs she had to hide her own surprise. He'd been pretty insistent that she step back immediately, and had no issue with telling her what he wanted her to do. Perhaps in front of Carl he was taking on a more respectful approach.

"I really think we should tell everyone," Carl insisted, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"And we've said not yet," Rick answered sternly. "I expect you to honour that wish…Carl?"

"Fine…I won't tell."

"Not Michonne or Daryl, not even Enid."

"Alright, I promise," he muttered, glancing at Carrie as if she might change her mind. He gave a short sigh, his gaze yet again moving down her body to seek the physical evidence of her pregnancy. "Congratulations."

Feeling that this one was a little more sincere, Carrie managed a smile. "Thanks Carl…that means a lot."

He nodded, and then a few more moments passed. "Can I go out now?"

"Yes. Be home by dark, please."

Without another word Carl got up and left, putting on his hat and jacket at the front door before taking his gun from the safe. As they waited for him to leave Rick and Carrie stayed where they were seated on the coffee table. Across from them Judith was still eating the potato chips Carl had left behind, rather pleased that she now had the entire couch to herself.

"Did you really mean that?" Carrie asked when they heard the front door closing. "That's it's up to me to decide when to step back?"

Rick pursed his lips, his delayed answer confirming that he was just putting on a respectful front for Carl. "It should be a mutual decision," he said diplomatically.

She didn't try to argue, having expected this. As an ominous rumble of thunder sounded in the distance she took his hand again. "That went well, don't you think?"

"Yes, it went well," he agreed as he stood up. "He's still talking to us, and he didn't completely storm out."

"Where are you going?" she asked, watching as he went to the closet and retrieved his jacket. She held her breath as she waited for his answer, recalling his promise that he would stick around.

"To speak to Abraham."

"You're not going out?"

"No, I'm just speaking to him. He's taking a group out to the quarry, checking on things before the storm hits. I need to tell him I'm not going."

"Thank you," she said sincerely, not wanting to be left alone with Carl after giving him that news. As he closed the safe and reached for the front door Carrie considered letting him go, not asking the question that was no right on the tip of her tongue…but this might be the only appropriate time to bring up a subject that was never discussed. "Rick, something Carl said is bothering me."

"What?" he asked, lingering in the threshold.

"He said that you got Lori pregnant," she said gently, knowing she was entering sensitive territory. "I thought you told him about Shane."

There was a pause, Rick's demeanour changing like it did anytime this subject came up. "I did," he replied, his tone very matter of fact. "I told him over a month ago."

"And he…he accepted it?" she asked tentatively.

"Not at first. He was upset, he wanted to know who her father is, but I said no."

"So, he still doesn't know?"

"No," he assured her. "Neither of us do…only you know."

Carrie nodded her head, conscious of the gravity of what he had asked her to do for him. Concerned that someone ought to know her blood type, Rick reluctantly had asked her to find out, giving Denise permission to test Judith's blood. And while Carrie didn't know Shane's blood group, she knew Rick's…she knew enough to know who Judith's biological father was.

"You don't think Carl will ask me?" she worried, concerned about the position that would put her in.

"No," Rick shook his head. "He doesn't know that you know, and Denise knows not to tell him either. You don't need to worry about that, Carrie. He knows my wishes, and I trust him to honour them."

"Okay," she nodded, grateful to have clarified this.

It was a relief when the conversation came to a close, and before he headed out she thanked him with a soft kiss on the cheek. Standing at the door she watched him walking up the street, touched that he had trusted her to carry this secret on his behalf, for Judith's sake. He didn't want to know, though heart seemed to be in two places. If Shane was Judith's father then Rick could still hang on the the friend he had loved for so many years. On the other hand, if Rick was her father then there was nothing left of Shane.

"Mom?" Judith called out to her.

Carrie looked around, smiling when she saw Judith slowly walking towards her. She held the plastic bowl of potato chips in her hands, concentrating with all her might to carry it and walk at the same time. When she came close enough she stopped and then awkwardly lifted the bowl a little higher.

"Some more?" she asked sweetly, looking up at her.

Smiling, for she knew this wasn't a request for another serving, but an offer to share, Carrie reached down and took one. Judith beamed, happy that she had taken one, but it seemed that was the extent of her generosity. She turned away and set the bowl down onto the floor, sitting in front of it as she continued to slowly eat. Though Carrie knew Rick didn't like her to be eating anywhere other than her highchair, she let Judith stay there for a little while, content to spoil her.

Looking at her watch Carrie sat cross legged on the floor with Judith, passing the time with her until Rick came back, but the sigh of relief she gave was only small. Carl may have taken the news of her pregnancy well, but that was just one problem solved on a list that seemed to get more and more complicated with each day.


	12. Chapter 12

Friday September 19

Sipping at her glass of cool water, Carrie settled into the love seat on the front porch and pulled her feet up beneath herself. With a long sigh she sat back and watched the lightning illuminating the sky, the heavy downpour of rain bringing a little relief to the uncomfortable heat. Rick had left a little over an hour ago, waking Carrie and apologising that he had to go, that they needed back up at the quarry. Abraham and some others had been there since the previous afternoon keeping an eye on things, doing what they could to ensure that the herd didn't break out should it become riled up by the bad weather. They all knew that a storm created perfect conditions for Walkers to become active, the sound, wind and changes in light giving more than enough stimulation. They thought they had been prepared, that things would be alright…judging by the way Rick got up to leave in the middle of the night that was no longer the case.

Unable to go with him or do anything from within Alexandria, Carrie had no choice but to try and go back to sleep. He had asked her to stay back, to be with Carl and Judith should anything happen, for God knew any number of things could go wrong. The herd at the quarry could break out, a tree could fall and bring down a panel of the walls. She was needed most at home right now, but that didn't make staying back any easier.

The bed was enormous without Rick there beside her, without the touch of his body or the occasional snore that passed his lips. After his abrupt departure she had tried to go back to sleep, but his absence made her feel strange and uncomfortable. It was silly to feel this way, she was a grown woman after all, but she missed having him there with her. Since she had moved in to this bedroom they hadn't needed to spend the night apart, she hadn't slept alone. He didn't take watch during the night, and usually went to bed before she did. Even Judith wasn't there beside her, instead sleeping through the storm from the comfort of her crib. Carrie longed for her to wake up and need comforting, for her to be scared of the thunder and insist on laying in her arms.

But that was unlikely to be the case. Though it had raged for hours now it seemed like the storm might be dying down. Thunder still rumbled in the distance, but the rain was easing and the flashes of lightning were becoming further and further apart. With any luck it would be gone before the morning arrived, leaving them with a beautiful clear day…the type of good weather that might see them returning to Washington.

As this thought occurred to her, Carrie gave a heavy sigh and took a sip of her water. She knew that Rick had no intention of returning to Washington to meet with Richard and his group, and she didn't blame him for it either. Though she had given them their assurances that they would do whatever they could to direct the herd north with Richard's help, there simply wasn't going to be enough time. The bad weather had raised the stakes, making it riskier and more unpredictable than before. If the quarry was damaged by the storm, if those trucks started shifting downhill…changing the route the herd took was too risky at the last minute. Perhaps if they had talked about this weeks ago things would have been different, but Richard's group had delayed their meeting by another week.

An enormous crash of thunder came out of nowhere, big enough that Carrie physically felt it. It was quickly followed by a low rumble that grew, and then there was a brief silence before the thunder sounded again. The rain grew heavier now, beating down on Alexandria and making her worry about those who were on watch, about the horses and chickens who Maggie had been worried about. It was a relief to suddenly feel cold rather than hot, yet despite this she opted to go back inside, feeling that now she might be able to go back to sleep.

Her heart lurched as she entered the house and heard the sound of Judith crying, feeling awful that she had left her up there alone. How long had she been crying for? How long ago had she awoken alone in her room, frightened by the storm that had roused her? She was sitting up in her crib when Carrie rushed back in, her face streaked with tears while her lower lip wobbled with each whimper. Apologising profusely she reached into the crib, bringing Judith into her arms as the thunder rumbled again. Though she was upset it seemed Judith was displeased with her, wailing and pushing away from her chest as she looked around for Rick instead.

"Dah-d," she wailed miserably, shuddering for breath.

"It's okay, it's okay," Carrie said urgently, regretting that she had actually wished for this. As her efforts failed she started to feel quite out of depth, this typically being one of the moments that she deferred to Rick, asking him to take over. She and Judith may have developed a wonderful bond, but she was still unable to compete with Rick's experience.

As Judith continued to cry Carrie started pacing the bedroom, talking to her and lightly bouncing her. She did everything she knew, making sure Judith had her duck to cuddle and reassuring her that Rick would be back later. She swayed and bounced and sang, even tried to make her laugh, but it seemed nothing would quell the fright she felt about the storm. Despite her efforts to sing and talk the storm was louder, the rain becoming so heavy that she couldn't hear herself think. As she despaired over Judith's crying she suddenly thought of Maggie next door, wondering if she was okay. Had Glenn also left to go to the quarry? Had Michonne? What if Maggie was all alone next door with a newborn baby in the middle of a raging storm?

Once she got Judith back to sleep she would go next door and check on her, happy to brave the wind and rain to ensure that she was alright. There was nothing she could do to help out with Herschel, but perhaps she could maybe…Carrie laughed to herself. Eugene would be of greater help than she, and he stoutly refused to hold his self appointed Godson unless his diaper was clean and his stomach full.

Judith's wailing had eased into quiet sobs of discontent, but still she refused to let Carrie properly cuddle her, instead sitting stark upright on her hip as she waited expectantly for Rick to return. Sharing her wish Carrie gave a heavy sigh, feeling dejected when Judith's foot brushed against the curve of her belly. She was now getting a startling insight into her future, namely one without Rick in it. They knew that every day they lived was a blessing, one that mostly stemmed from luck that could run out at any minute. If one day they were without him, what would become of them? The thought of becoming a mother without him by her side was unbearable. She didn't think she was capable of doing this alone…it would be hard enough to raise Carl and Judith without their father, let alone a third child who would never know him.

A short while later she heard footsteps in the hallway outside, but she knew better than to get her hopes up that it might be Rick. Instead she looked out and watched the shadows moving, and though she knew it was Carl there was still a part inside her that was afraid, that remembered how suddenly Pete had turned up that day. Even now there were still moments when she came around a corner or looked up from a book and expected to find him there in front of her. She would be afraid to look up, afraid to face him even though she knew that when she eventually did look up no would be there.

Just like those times the moving shadows in the hallway materialised into a silhouette she knew well, one that walked with the heavy shuffle of a teenager awoken in the middle of the night. Carl appeared in the open doorway and looked in, straightening the bandage over the right side of his face. He blinked slowly, and Carrie knew that just like Judith was he was looking for Rick.

"Everything okay?" she asked in concern. The only time he came into their room at night was when he wasn't feeling well, or that one time a nightmare had seen him slipping in to bed beside Rick. He was gone before the sun rose the next morning, not realising that Carrie knew he was there.

"Yeah," he muttered around a yawn. He peered into the bedroom as his brow furrowed, and Carrie anticipated his question before he asked it.

"He's gone out to the quarry," she said regretfully, having hoped Carl wouldn't know until the morning. He would only worry otherwise.

"Oh," he muttered, as disappointed as Carrie expected. Still rubbing the side of his face he started heading towards the stairs, but then he stopped and looked around. "Who else went?"

"I don't know. Probably Daryl too."

"And Michonne? Glenn?"

Though she knew he cared about their well being, she also knew the reason for his concern. "I don't know. Once I get Judy settled I'm going over to check on Ma-"

"It's alright, I got it," he waved her off.

"No, you shouldn't be going out," she said anxiously, wishing he wouldn't just brush her off. "It's dark, and raining."

"You shouldn't be going out either."

Moments later he was gone, the glow of light downstairs indicating he was looking for his jacket by the door. As Judith's crying started again Carrie's anxiety grew, and she wished she knew what to do. Carl shouldn't be going out there at night, she was certain Rick wouldn't have let him. Still bouncing Judith and trying to comfort her, Carrie went over to the window and pulled back the curtains. Just visible outside was the beam of a flashlight that went up the pavement, the only indication she had that Carl was alright.

She wished he hadn't gone, that she had insisted on going herself. She ought to have followed him downstairs, she ought to have insisted and made him listen. What if there were Walkers out there? What if the walls had come down and no one knew? Even if the worst hadn't happened, what if he fell over? He did still occasionally lose his footing when he wasn't concentrating, and his steadiness would be affected by the dark night and the harsh weather. If he fell over and badly hurt himself, would he be able to get back up? She imagined him laying there in the rain all night, forced to wait until the morning for someone to help him.

Only when she saw the beam of his flashlight returning did she breath a small sigh of relief, her anxiety easing until she felt sheepish. She never used to think the way she did now...she never used to torment herself with the worst possible scenarios of a situation. But these days she often felt like it was the first place her mind went, especially where Carl or Rick were concerned.

"Maggie's fine," he said when he returned. Though his pyjama's seemed a little damp his hair and face were relatively dry, indicating he had made efforts to keep his bandage out of the rain. "I went in and everything was quiet, Carol's jacket was on the hook."

"Thanks," she said with a heavy sigh. "If Carol's there, then Glenn and Michonne must have gone to the quarry."

Carl nodded in agreement as he came inside, reaching for his sister who was still crying. Having learnt not to take it to heart, Carrie was just relieved when Judith stopped crying for her old brother. She put her head on his shoulder and clung to him, whimpering until her eyes started to close. Feeling tired herself now, Carrie yawned and then lay down on the bed, propping herself up on one elbow while she watched Carl. A few minutes passed in silence while Carl swayed back and forth with his sister, rubbing her back in wide, soothing circles.

He was going through one hell of a tough time right now, having to accept that Rick couldn't be around as much right now while also digesting the news of the pregnancy. When he came home yesterday evening things had felt awkward and strange, even between he and Rick. None of them were quite certain about what to say or do now that Carl knew, their difficulty made even greater by the fact that they couldn't openly talk about it. In a rare treat Daryl had joined them for dinner last night rather than stay on watch, though his presence there meant that they couldn't address the elephant in the room. Nevertheless Carrie stood by her request that news of her pregnancy remained a secret, even if it meant that they couldn't freely talk about it yet.

Impatient, Carl came to the bed and began lowering Judith down into the centre, remaining strong when she started to cry again. He refused to let her cling to him, firmly telling her that it was time to go to sleep, but like it often did his resolve began to crumble. Carrie watched in amusement as he gave in, rolling his eyes as he lay down beside his sister and settled his head onto Rick's pillow. He tried to put his arm around her, but as she rubbed her eyes and started to cry again Judith gave him a harsh rejection. With a heavy sigh she turned her back and moved towards Carrie instead, dissatisfied with her brother's lack of enthusiasm. Not taking no for an answer, she wrangled her way into Carrie's arms and finally settled with her head resting on her bicep. While at first it was a lovely way to embrace her little girl, she knew that in a few minutes her arm would start to go numb...she had no idea how Rick managed to let her sleep with her head on his arm or shoulder, how he tolerated the numb hand that must develop.

When Judith closed her eyes and began sucking her thumb Carl too gave a heavy sigh, grunting to himself as he started to get up. When she realised what he was doing Carrie felt a pang of disappointment, realising for the first time that she had hoped he would stay a little while.

"Don't go," she said quickly, cringing when she realised how awkward that sounded. "I mean...you don't have to go...if you don't want to."

There was a pause, Carl's face cast in the shadow of Judith's night light. "I...Is something wrong?"

Carrie hesitated, her heart pounding as she realised she was putting herself out there...this was her reaching out to him, hoping he reached back. "Nothing's wrong..." she started before trailing off. She sighed softly, being bravely honest. "It's just...it's kind of lonely without your dad."

There was another pause, and then slowly Carl laid back down beside Judith. "Yeah, I guess so." He got comfortable, plumping up Rick's pillow before laying his head on it.

"I got used to sleeping beside him. It's strange being alone."

"Yeah, I got used to him too. I could hardly sleep the first night in my own room."

Carrie smiled, glad that he probably couldn't see her face clearly. "Neither could your dad...he was awake the whole night checking on you."

"I know. He checked on me twice!"

Carrie chuckled now. "Actually, he checked on you three times. It would have been four, but I stopped him."

To her pleasant surprise, Carl also laughed. "He still does it you know. Every night before he goes to bed he comes in, and then usually in the middle of the night too."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he usually catches me reading," he grinned.

Sharing his amusement, Carrie moved onto her back and gently readjusted Judith, glad when she allowed her head to be placed onto a pillow rather than her arm. She stretched out and looked up at the ceiling, feeling infinitely less lonely now. It was nice having the kids there beside her, listening to Judith sucking her thumb and Carl's slow breathing. She had noticed over the last few months that he slept very differently to Rick, that he was either flat on his back or sprawled out on his front, usually with half his limbs hanging off the bed. Rick on the other hand slept on his side, only occasionally found on his front or back. It made for quite the difference when sharing the bed with Carl, for although there was more than enough space for the two of them, she was rather conscious of keeping her arms and legs on her own side, of not hogging the sheets.

"My mom didn't like it much when Dad worked the graveyard shifts. She used to let me sleep in the bed with her. I think she missed him too."

Carrie's heart warmed, for Carl didn't often bring up his mother with her. "That's sweet."

"I guess so."

"Did you miss your dad when he was gone at night?"

Carl shook his head. "No. Mum didn't like it so much, but I did. He was at work while I was asleep, so I didn't miss out on seeing him." There was a brief pause, and then he continued. "He'd come home in the morning and have breakfast with us, or he'd come to my school assembly if it was on. And at night if Sha..."

There was no doubt whose name he had been about to say, nor why he had trailed off awkwardly. Rick had told him about what happened between Shane and Lori, making sure that he heard it from him and not someone else like Ron. She didn't know exactly what he had told him, for she hadn't been privy to the conversation or Carl's reaction, and she wondered exactly how much he knew.

"At night if Shane..." Carrie said, prompting him to finish his thought.

Carl flexed his jaw for a moment, but then reluctantly continued. "At night if Shane was finishing when Dad started, he would stay back a bit longer so Dad could be late. Dad would stay back and read with me a bit."

"What did you guys read?"

Carl shrugged, picking at his fingernails now that he was less comfortable with the conversation. "I dunno. Sometimes I had to read out loud to him, like for my homework or something. Dad didn't really like reading out loud."

"Yeah, he doesn't like reading to Judy very much."

"He did read the first Harry Potter book to me…and we went to see the movie too."

To her disappointment silence resumed now, the atmosphere still feeling a little uncomfortable in the wake of mentioning Shane. Nevertheless she tried to relax, to put them both at ease. It was unusual for she and Carl to feel awkward and uncomfortable around one another, for aside from his bad attitude of late, they'd been getting on quite well. Thankfully they had managed to bond over Pete's attack, both of them content to stay at home while they both recovered in their own ways. Now the news of the pregnancy had made things a little strange again, though she had anticipated it to a certain degree.

As if reading her mind, Carl brought up that very subject. "You can't feel the baby move yet, can you?"

This was more of a statement than a question, but regardless it made her smile. She was glad he was asking about the baby, that he was interested.

"No," she said softly, wondering if she should explain a little more. "Sometimes I think I can feel movement…but then I fart and it goes away."

There was a brief pause of disbelief before Carl laughed, the joyous sound enjoyable to hear over the sound of the rain. She could feel him shaking a little, just able to make out the way he raised his hand and brushed it through his hair as he laughed. "Are you still feeling sick sometimes?" he asked, sobering now. "My mom didn't get sick much, only when we were cooking meat."

"I'm feeling okay," she assured him. "Thanks."

"So this is why you don't go hang out with Rosita anymore? Because you can't drink alcohol?"

"I do hang out with 'Sita. All the time."

"It's just, I heard Rosita say that she thought you were mad at her when you stopped coming over. She was worried she upset you."

She could tell by the tone of voice what he was getting at, that he wanted her to tell Rosita the truth. He'd brought that up the previous afternoon, insisting that they immediately tell their family about the baby. Thinking about what he said she wondered if Rosita had really said that, if she was really concerned about something she said. Much like Abraham, Rosita had the tendency to speak her mind and use somewhat colourful language, particularly after a few drinks. Had something been said that Carrie might have taken the wrong way?

"I'll tell her soon. When I'm ready to," she reiterated.

Getting the hint, Carl changed the subject. "Do you…do you have names yet?"

"No. I haven't started thinking."

"I wish Mom had told someone what she wanted Judy to be named."

Carrie didn't want to entertain the idea of not being around for her baby, but there was no denying they needed to prepare for that. "I'll make sure I tell you and your dad. Maybe you could help us come up with ideas? We could start a list on the refrigerator or something."

"Yeah, cool," he said, sounding like he meant it. "Just a heads up, Dad won't like names that can be shortened. You know like Rachael to Rach, or Cooper to Coop."

Unable to help herself, Carrie laughed at the hypocrisy. "His name is shorted, so is yours and mine…so is Judith's."

"Have you noticed he never uses Judy? He always calls her Judith."

"Unless he calls her Judy Pie," she reminded him, both of them giving a soft laugh of amusement. Carrie loved that Rick called his daughter by that name, loving how sweet and affectionate he could be with her.

"I remember Herschel saying once that she was so cute he could eat her all up, I think that's where Dad got the name from. That joke's not as cute these days…"

"No, it's not," she agreed morosely. There was a brief pause, the weight of the world beginning to make itself known in that moment. "I wish I knew Herschel. I wish I knew all of your group."

"Even my mom?" he joked.

"Yeah," she replied seriously. "I wish she could see you and Judy…so does your dad."

"I'd only see half of my mom," he quipped, barely withholding his laugh.

Though she tried not to show it, Carrie was cringing at this light hearted joke. She knew that Carl made jokes about his injury as a way of coping, a way to protect himself from ridicule by saying it first, but Carrie couldn't stand it. Rick tolerated it and laughed for Carl's sake, to be the captive audience to his humour that a dad should be, but Carrie just couldn't bring herself to do the same. It was too soon for her, the circumstances of the injury too difficult to joke about yet.

"Sorry," Carl muttered, remembering that she didn't like those jokes.

"It's okay," she tried to lie, but her voice was a little too high pitched for him to believe her. To her relief he changed the subject, but quickly she was wishing he would go back to the eye jokes.

"You never talk about your group," he commented. "You ask us about ours, but you never say anything about your own."

"No, I don't really."

"Why?" he asked tentatively, continuing a moment later. "Is it too hard on you?"

"No. I just…" she started, struggling to put her feelings into words.

How could she explain the disconnection she felt towards the people she had started out with? Those people existing to her in vague recollections, even Wade who had saved her life early on, even Shannon who she had loved so much. It wasn't them that she recalled most clearly from the days before meeting Rick. It was Granger's group that she remembered, the ordeal she endured for the people she cared about…she remembered the months of being alone on foot after Terminus, being lost in the woods and covered in Walker guts to protect herself, barely surviving.

"Shannon was a little younger than you when she died," she began, the familiar ache in her chest reminding her of why she didn't like to talk about Shannon. "We used to play cards a lot. She wasn't very good at telling jokes like you are, she always started laughing before the punch line."

"When did she die?"

She cast her mind back, trying to recall time lines in the days when they struggled to keep track of the days and weeks. "Not quite a year ago, I think."

"That's not that long ago."

"No. But it feels like a very long time."

"It's kind'a weird…we've only known you for a couple of months."

"Almost seven months."

Carl made a sound of disbelief. "Feels like longer. I still remember the day we found you. You looked like a Walker."

"That's because I was wearing one," she quipped. "I remember you giving me a toothbrush, and a comb…it felt so good to brush my teeth. I'll always remember you giving me that. Do you remember sharing your MnMs with me at Silverpine?"

"No. Sharing candy doesn't sound like me."

She chuckled, for in fact Carl was rather generous with sharing his candy. "You did."

They fell into silence as the sound of rolling thunder caught their attention. As they listened to it Carrie looked down at Judith, seeing from the soft glow of the night light that she was now fast asleep, her tears for Rick forgotten. She started to feel a little cold, and when the heavy rain started up again Carrie sat up and pulled the comforter over them, making sure to share it with Carl. It was one thing to hog the blankets from Rick, for she enjoyed the way he tugged them back when he felt cold, but she felt a little more generous towards Carl.

She was glad that they continued to talk for a little while more, enjoying his company the way she had been over the last few months, but it wasn't to last. As the minutes passed their voices grew heavier with sleep, and when Carl fell silent Carrie turned her concentration to the concern she felt for Rick and their group. She knew there was no point in worrying about them, that it wouldn't help them even if they were in trouble, but it couldn't be avoided. Long after Carl had fallen back asleep Carrie lay awake thinking about them, hoping that the quarry had held steady through the storm, that everyone was safe and warm inside the cars.

She had to have fallen asleep at some stage, for when she was first aware of movement in her bedroom her eyelids were so heavy she could barely open them. Conscious of someone's presence she listened as they bustled around the room and then went into the bathroom, the sound of the door closing ever so softly indicating that it wasn't Carl getting up, but that Rick was home. Though they occasionally clashed when it came to sharing a living space together, he was considerate when she was sleeping, perhaps a habit left over from his days of coming home late while Lori was sleeping. She kept listening hard, and the sound of the toilet flushing in the downstairs bathroom followed by feet on the stairs assured her that Daryl too was home, that he was going to his attic bedroom to get some sleep.

When Rick came out she listened as he removed his duty belt and set it onto the dresser, and when she heard the sound of his clothes being discarded onto the floor she didn't protest. The mess could wait until later, for now all she wanted was him. With his half of the bed occupied he slipped into the small space behind her, and she quickly moved over to give him a little more room, sharing her pillow with him. It was with a heavy sigh that he lay down and put his arm around her, a sigh that Carrie echoed. She breathed in the smell of his body, judging that he hadn't been exerting himself. There was no need to ask how things at the quarry went. The fact that he was home, slipping into bed as clean smelling as when he left indicated that things were alright.

"What's wrong with Carl?" Rick muttered, nuzzling the back of her neck as he settled.

"Nothing," she assured him. "I missed you, so I asked him to stay."

"Mmmm'kay," he muttered.

"Have you got enough room?" she asked, noting how much space the kids were taking up. "You warm?"

The sound of affirmation he made was barely discernible, and he didn't respond at all when she asked again. With her assurance that Carl was fine he had fallen asleep almost immediately, his body against hers dead weight with exhaustion. Nevertheless she revelled in it, taking in the peacefulness of the moment. Right now she had everything she needed, her family all together exactly where they belonged, safe and sound.

* * *

Sleeping heavily, Rick had to be awaken twice that morning, Carrie intruding on his sleep first at nine o'clock, and then at ten. Though his reception of her was less than welcoming, he eventually managed to haul himself out of bed, his body aching with exhaustion. He was no longer used to being hauled out of his bed in the middle of the night for a fence breach or to take a shift on watch, particularly given how he'd taken a step back in the wake of Carl's injury. These days he had the luxury of going to bed at a reasonable time and then sleeping through the night, of being with his family. However things had changed last night, the magnitude of the storm prompting Abraham and those at the quarry to call for back up. Things had started going pear shaped, the only thing holding one of the trucks up on the quarry being some heavy duty chains and a tractor. Were it not for the efforts of Abraham's crew Rick was certain the herd would have broken out in the middle of the night…with them unprepared it would have been disastrous.

The majority of the fuss had concluded by the time Rick and the others made it to the quarry, and with the trucks looking to hold for the time being they remained as a precaution. They needed as many people there as possible, they had to be ready to enact their plans at a moment's notice. It was only an hour before sunrise that more people had turned up, relieving Abraham's crew and those others who had been there throughout the night. Exhausted, Rick had made just enough time to debrief a pyjama clad Reg and Deanna before going home and collapsing into his bed, almost immediately falling asleep.

He'd been worried when he came home to find Carl asleep in the master bedroom, for given how much he enjoyed the newfound freedom and privacy of his own bedroom he ventured into Rick's only when something was wrong. Glad that Carrie was awake he had asked her about it, and her answer had warmed his heart. It was nice to know that she missed him when he was gone, but even nicer to know that she had asked Carl to keep her company and that he had acquiesced. Though he hadn't said it to her, truth be told he had been worried about how news of her pregnancy would affect Carl. He'd worried that it would further affect his poor attitude to her, that it would make things worse.

While he tended to reassure Carrie that Carl's bad attitude was just him being a teenager, it had in fact worried him. He wanted them to get along, for his son to accept her as a more meaningful part of their family, not just a member of their group. But thankfully things seemed to be okay between them, or at least that's how it seemed on the surface. Surely Carl wouldn't have spent the night in Carrie's room if he was feeling less than amicable towards her.

Knowing he had another long day ahead of him, Rick stepped into the shower and woke himself up, thinking ahead as he yawned widely. They were enacting last minute plans to do another dry run of their plan, everyone not already at the quarry set to leave within the hour. While he knew it was the right thing to do, Rick couldn't help but feel unsure of his decision to leave out Richard's group, to intentionally go back on the plans they had made. The agreement reached was that they would meet again on the next clear day, that Richard's people would help with the herd in exchange for Alexandria sending them in a particular direction. While the appeal of extra help was certainly something to consider, Rick knew that it wasn't going to happen. There simply wasn't enough time, particularly after the storm from last night. The risk was too great.

Judging by the clear blue sky outside the window, Richard's group would be going back to the Washington Monument today, would be waiting there for Rick and his people. What would happen if Rick didn't turn up? Would they believe them when they said they didn't have enough time? If Richard found out Rick never had any intentions of including them, their potential trade relationship would be tarnished from the outset. His choice to evacuate the quarry sooner rather than later could burn a bridge their community desperately needed. Was that worth it?

When he finished up in the shower and dressed he made a half hearted attempt to make the bed before departing. Still securing his duty belt around his waist he came out into the upstairs hallway and looked around, noting the sound of familiar voices coming from Carl's bedroom. The relationship between Carl and Enid had been in the back of Rick's mind lately, for although on the surface there had been no change in their status of friends, they had indeed become closer in the aftermath of Pete's attack.

Much like with Michonne, Enid had been one of the few people Carl would happily spend much time with, slightly less self conscious with her than anyone one else. It had been a slow start for him resuming the friendship, and it was clear to all that Enid was nervous to confront what had happened to him, but in the months that passed they had become close again. But although nothing seemed to indicate they were taking things further than just being friends, Rick still found himself irrationally worrying about what they got up to. It had prompted him to instate a rule that the bedroom door be left open when they were upstairs, though a part of him knew that he was being overbearing, and unfairly so. Just because Enid was a girl, that didn't mean he had the right to treat her any differently to Mikey.

But were they…had they ever kissed again? Carl had told him about his first kiss with Enid, shyly recounting the events and then posing some tricky questions to him. That had been months ago, and as their friendship grew Rick wondered what else might be happening between the two teens…what were the rules for this type of thing? There was nothing wrong with a couple of teenagers kissing, if that's indeed what they were doing, but that didn't mean they were doing anything else. Carl would tell him if something else happened…right? At this Rick knew it was wishful thinking. As a teenager he had been close with his dad, but there was no way in hell he would ever tell him what he did with girls. His only comfort was that he doubted Carl would have the self-confidence to take a step like that, not now at least.

Without knocking Rick pushed the bedroom door open and went inside, looking at the two teenagers who were in there. Carl lay down on his front, his chin propped up on his hands as he watched the television screen, praising Enid was who skilfully evading capture on whatever Playstation game they were playing.

"Hi Rick," Enid greeted him politely, though she didn't tear her eyes away from the television.

"Hey," Carl added, he too not looking up.

Rick rolled his eyes to himself, knowing that he was overreacting when it came to Carl and Enid. "Was everything alright last night?"

"Yeah," he nodded, sparing him a glance this time. "Judy was cryin', that's all."

"Well thanks for stickin' around, for helping Carrie out."

"She asked me to stay."

Rick nodded. "Well, thanks."

Hitting the pause button, Enid lowered her controller and turned to him. "Are you going to the quarry?"

"Yes," he said, and she cut him off before he could continue.

"Can I come too?" she asked eagerly, her eye alight with hopefulness.

He shook his head in apology, noting that Carl too was disappointed. On one or two occasions they had allowed Carl and Enid to accompany them out to various locations, both of them eager to not only help with the work, but to get outside the walls of Alexandria.

"I'm sorry, not this time. We might be opening it today."

"So, you need extra help then?" Carl pressed, sitting up and looking at Rick properly. "You'll need-"

"Someone to take care of things back home?" Rick cut him off. "Someone to look after you sister?"

Carl paused. "Can't Carrie do that?"

Rick narrowed his eyes, knowing what Carl was getting at, that she ought not be leaving due to her pregnancy. "Can't you also do that?"

Getting the hint, Carl backed off that train of thought, but he wasn't done. "What if Enid and I cou-"

"The answer is no," Rick said gently, and though his tone of voice was friendly Carl knew better than to continue pushing. "I'll see you later."

Carl dejectedly said goodbye, actually going to the effort of giving him a quick wave before Enid hit play and resumed their game. It was exactly the kind of farewell Rick preferred, for although going outside the walls was a risk to his life, he hated the notion of extended farewells every time. They couldn't live life on a knife's edge any more than they already did…sometimes it was better to say goodbye as if one was merely going to the store like in the old days.

His stomach growled as he came downstairs and smelled the aroma of cooked eggs and toast, and he smiled to himself when he realised Carrie must be making breakfast. Daryl and Glenn sat at the kitchen counter with a mug of coffee each, the former's chin resting in his hand as he watched Carrie bustling around near the stove.

"Good morning," he said to them all, pressing a kiss to Carrie's cheek before opening the cupboard to fetch a coffee mug. "Sorry for being an asshole when you woke me up."

She muttered something under her breath, but clearly he had been forgiven. "Breakfast is nearly ready. Not even burnt this time."

"Well, I thank you," he smiled, pouring himself a cup of coffee before topping hers up. "What a treat."

"Treat or not, you better watch this one" Daryl began gruffly, gesturing to Carrie. "You got a borderline pervert here."

Carrie sighed, looking at him over her shoulder. "I said I was sorry."

"Now this, I want to hear," Rick muttered, topping up Daryl and Glenn's coffee before returning the pot to the cradle.

"She comes in to wake me up this mornin', an-"

"You asked me to wake you up!" Carrie interjected, pointing to the note they had left on the refrigerator.

"Didn't ask yah to take a perv."

"Well since when do you sleep naked?" she protested.

Rick burst out laughing, loving the look of dismay on her face. Judging by the twitch in the corner of Daryl's mouth he was trying not to laugh too, clearly only teasing her. "She ripped those sheets clean off me, and there I was in all m' glory."

"I said I was sorry," Carrie said emphatically, meaning it.

"Sorry ain't gonna bring back m' dignity."

"What dignity?" Glenn questioned in good humour. "Everyone of us has seen your ass. I've seen more of you than I ever wanted to."

"You have?" Rick questioned, curious to hear this.

"Yeah. Back when he had that boil Michonne used to squeeze for him."

Daryl shrugged. "No one told you lot to watch."

"You do have a cute ass," Carrie teased, looking at Daryl affectionately. "We all think so."

Dismayed, he turned to Rick for support. "You gonna let this slide, man? Control your woman."

"Wish I could," he muttered, sipping his coffee. "Eggs are burning, by the way."

Swearing, Carrie spun back around and took the pan off the stove, muttering under her breath as she hastily stirred the eggs.

"I'm gon' have mine to go," Daryl said, drinking the last of his coffee and then pushing the empty mug towards the sink.

Given the long day ahead of him, Carrie seemed not to mind that he was lazily discarding his empty mug for her to clean up. She buttered some toast and topped it with some scrambled eggs, gladly passing it over to Daryl and Glenn on a couple of napkins. With a hasty thanks they took their breakfast in one hand and departed together, Daryl saying goodbye to Judith and nudging her with his boot when she didn't respond. She followed them over to the door and waved them off, knowing that if he had his crossbow she wasn't allowed to go with him. While Judith stood at the door and watched him leave, Rick turned his attention back to Carrie, gratefully accepting the plate of toast and eggs she had prepared for him.

"Thank you," he said gratefully, taking Daryl's place at the counter. "Was everything alright last night?" he asked, though not for the first time.

"I told you, everything was fine," she assured him as she started to tidy up. "I asked Carl to stay a bit, that's all."

"Good," he muttered, digging in to his breakfast.

"We got to talking," she smiled. "Carl and I."

"About?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Just stuff…the baby."

"Oh yeah? What did have to say?"

"He asked if it was moving yet, if we had any names picked out."

Rick gave a low chuckle, this not being something he was looking forward to. Though he and Carrie got along quite well, he wasn't so sure that would be the case when it came to choosing a mutually agreeable name for their child.

"It was nice," she added, her voice sounding wistful. "He and I haven't talked like that for ages."

"You two should hang out today, let him stay home from school," he suggested. "You're not coming to the quarry, right?"

Carrie hesitated, knowing that this was a sore point for the both of them. "Do you need me there?" she asked in concern, knowing that today was potentially risky. "At all?"

"No," he shook his head. "It's your plan, your strategy, but we can do it without you."

She seemed torn, obligated to work alongside the people who were carrying out a plan of her making, but there was no denying the risk for her was greater. "If you don't need me, then I'll stay."

Though he was relieved he tried not to make a big deal of it. "Okay," he said, continuing to eat. "It's pantry day, right?"

"Yeah, Judy and I are going now. You want me to get something for you?"

He paused, considering his answer. Some Coca-Cola might be a nice treat at the end of a long day, but it was strictly rationed. "Maybe some more powdered eggs?" he suggested, gesturing to his plate.

As he thought it might, Carrie's face lit up. "It tastes alright?"

"It's good," he assured her, stretching the truth only a little. There was only so much you could do to make powdered eggs taste like the real thing, and the fresh eggs from their chickens were too precious to use on an indulgent breakfast. Nevertheless he knew what that compliment meant to Carrie, that she was glad to have done a good job.

"Powdered eggs then. Maybe some Coca-Cola too?" she suggested. "It'll be cold by the time you get home."

Finishing the last bite of his toast, Rick smiled, wondering how she knew what he was thinking. "Get Pepsi instead. Carl likes it better."

Before he could reach the dishwasher Carrie took the plate from him, content to handle the clean up so he could get to the quarry. "I'll see what I can do," she said softly, her eyes drifting shut as she leant in to kiss him.

He accepted her kiss gladly, allowing his hand to brush against the front of her lower belly. They'd overcome an important milestone yesterday, and so far it seemed the news of her pregnancy had gone down well with Carl. It was a great relief to the both of them, and though she wasn't yet ready to tell others until the quarry was taken care of, it was at least something they could look forward to. Ready to go they departed, walking hand in hand with Judith between them, her slower pace holding them up somewhat. Nevertheless Rick didn't mind, glad for the extra minute or so the delay gave him with his family. Too soon they reached the intersection by Jessie's house, and it was there they had to part ways.

"I'll see you tonight," he said, kissing her on the cheek and then doing the same to Judith. "Be good for Mom."

"Be safe out there."

He left without further delay, neither he nor Carrie in the habit of extending goodbyes longer than necessary, and he joined the rest of the team down at the south gate while she headed to the Pantry. As he waited for the last few people to join them Rick looked around at those who were there already, confident in the group of people who had volunteered. The day they held the meeting in the church he knew that those who volunteered were going to need some work, that even after all the months his group had been in Alexandria working to prepare them for the world they still had not seen what was out there. But in the three weeks that passed those who had raised their hands had come a long way. Just being outside the walls working to move cars and put up a wall had been enough to acclimate them to their surroundings, to give many the opportunity to enact the skills Rick's group had been slowly teaching them for the last few months. As he looked around at people like Anna and Barnes, people he wouldn't have even considered many months ago, he was confident that today they could handle themselves out there.

"Is this all of us?" Lana asked, coming over to him. She had been standing with Reg and Deanna for the last little while, talking with them at great length about their plans for that day.

"A couple more to come," he said as he looked around, sharing her urgency to depart. "We're waiting on Annie and Heath, they shouldn't be far."

"That's all?" Lana queried. "No Carrie?"

Rick turned to her, surprised by the way she sounded both pleased and disappointed at the same time. She'd made no effort to conceal her mistrust of Carrie, her disdain and refusal to follow her lead having been made clear to all. He knew she would be glad that Carrie was sitting this out today, but why did she simultaneously sound disappointed?

"She's busy at the moment," he lied, interested in her reaction. "She'll probably meet us at the quarry."

Lana managed to keep her face free of much reaction, and simply nodded her head. "I just spoke to Reg and Deanna. They're all up to speed on the plans."

Rick tilted his head a little, somewhat annoyed by the initiative she had taken. Was Lana getting to big for her boots, too comfortable stepping into roles of leadership in his community? Or was she just trying to be well organised and prepared? He chose to believe the latter, concerned that he began disliking her purely because Carrie did.

"Well, thank you Lana."

Not noticing his tone she quickly departed and started rounding up people, giving the five minute warning for their scheduled departure. From afar Rick watched her, beginning to understand why she and Carrie clashed so often. In many ways they were quite similar, both of them natural leaders when given the chance, and both of them frustratingly stubborn at times.

A few minutes passed before the last people arrived, and Rick was forced to hold his tongue when Annie and Heath arrived with Nicholas in tow. Three weeks ago when he had accepted Nicholas as a volunteer Rick had no intention of actually allowing him to come along, but in the days that passed so many other things had come to mind. News of Carrie's pregnancy, bad weather, the group in Washington. To his frustration Nicholas had simply inserted himself into the work crew, never leaving Glenn's side as if the two had suddenly become tethered to one another. When Rick had brought it up with him Glenn had been adamant that it was okay, that he was handling Nicholas, and it was with reluctance that Rick allowed it upon his request. The fact that Carrie was no longer involved in the quarry evacuation was the lone factor that made Rick accept Nicholas' presence. Had she still been involved she would have pitched a grand fit the moment she saw him.

With the last of them having arrived they began piling into their two vehicles. As he prepared to take the front passenger seat of the Hyundai Rick took pause and looked around, going about his usual routine of double checking who was coming with them. Giving a brief wave to Reg and Deanna he glanced up at the watch tower where Spencer was taking a double shift, confident that Rosita had all of the posts sufficiently covered. Only when Eugene started opening the gate did Rick take his seat in the car and close the door, mentally preparing himself for the world outside the safety of their home.

They departed Alexandria without a hitch, Rick watching in the side mirrors as each vehicle exited before the gates began to close. They drove in silence with Lana at the wheel, Rick trying not to make it obvious that he was watching her from the corner of his eye. He was becoming more conscious of the fact that Carrie's dislike for Lana was rubbing off on him too, and that he shouldn't allow that to happen. It wasn't dislike he felt for Lana, but more a combination of mistrust and pity. Though their surveillance of her group made it clear she didn't want to rob Alexandria, he still felt a certain level of caution towards her, concerned that she might eventually give in to Vetor's insistence. That was where the pity came in, pitying that no one in her direct group seemed to have her back…he knew from his own experience after the Green farm fell that this could feel incredibly lonely.

"Rick, do you copy?"

Concerned to hear Deanna's voice of the radio, he removed it from his duty belt and quickly responded. "I copy."

"I'm afraid you need to come back. Carl's been taken to the Infirmary, he was just in a fight."

Rick looked at the radio in astonishment, and it took a moment for him to comprehend what Deanna had just told him. They'd been gone for only ten minutes, what the hell had happened? Quicker than he to respond, Lana was already slowing their vehicle down and pulling it to the side of the road before awaiting further instructions.

"How hurt is he?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"I'm not sure, I haven't seen him myself," Deanna replied. "But you need to come back."

Rick swore under his breath, grateful to the rest of his group who were already taking steps to accomodate the change of plans. The other vehicle came to a stop behind his, Daryl's bike pulling up alongside the passenger door so they could speak briefly.

"You wan' a ride back?" he asked, gesturing to his bike.

Rick shook his head, stepping out of the car and taking a quick look around. "No, you need to go, we need the bike for the dry run."

"I'll take you back," Lana offered, already directing their other passengers Carter, Mitchell and Sturgess to join the van behind them. "The rest of you should go on ahead. I can catch up later."

The others looked to him for agreement, which he readily gave. "Glenn and Daryl, you're in charge of the dry run. Figure this out with Abraham until I can get back."

"You are coming back?" Glenn clarified.

"Unless you hear otherwise, yes." He glanced at Lana and gestured to the car, hurrying her. "Let's go."

They filed back into the vehicles and then as if there had been no hitch the others departed, the van and Daryl's motorbike passing them before Lana executed a rough U-turn. Rick was grateful to her, for the way she pressed her foot down on the accelerator without concern with conserving gas the way they normally did. They had been ten minutes into their journey, more than halfway to the quarry already, but they made it back to Alexandria in barely half that time. The gate opened in anticipation and they were waved in by Deanna, the streets clear of people to quickly admit their vehicle through the community and right to the Infirmary's doorstep. As he stepped out he spared a quick murmur of gratitude for Lana, and when he crossed the front porch he looked around, wondering who had been involved in the fight with Carl. He had his suspicions, he just needed the confirmation.

Enid was waiting on the porch outside, Carl's hat clasped firmly in her lap as she waited, but Rick didn't spare her a greeting. Inside he found Carrie was pacing back and forth, her face pale and eyes wide with concern, and she breathed a visible sigh of relief when she saw him. She immediately came towards him, her features an insightful gaze into her panic.

"Rick, I'm sorry," she began, trailing off awkwardly as if scolding herself for the apology. "He won't let me in there," she concluded, gesturing to the curtains drawn around one of the beds.

He nodded and brushed his hand over her shoulder as he passed, not knowing what to say in response. Instead he went straight to the curtains and slipped inside, not announcing his arrival or asking for permission. He found Carl laying on his left side, his legs curled up and his arms crossed over his chest as he tried to stop trembling. Denise stood over him in concern, her gloved hands holding some surgical towels in place over his right eye socket. They both looked up at Rick's arrival, both of them as relieved as the other that he was there.

"What happened?" he asked gently, keeping his tone of voice low and even.

"F-fucking Ron," Carl moaned, his voice showing how much pain he was in. His body was taut with pain, his breaths coming in shuddered gasps as he tried to breathe through it. "He doesn't get it."

His suspicions confirmed Rick held his tongue, not wanting to speak his mind in front of Carl. "What doesn't he get?"

"Enid. She doesn't have to be his friend if she doesn't want to be…and it's not my fault if she doesn't," he said bitterly, trailing off before taking another shuddering breath. "He went straight for my face…he planned it."

Rick swore under his breath, infuriated but unable to do anything just yet. He wanted to go out there and find Ron, to wrap his hands around the little asshole's neck and squeeze until he got the message. Allowing himself this fantasy, he sat down and took Carl's hand, grateful when Rosita came in a minute later. In a plastic tray she carried a small needle and vial, the arrival of which Carl looked upon with great relief. Without wasting time she swiftly administered the much needed pain relief, and ten minutes later Carl lay still and quiet, doing as Denise asked by taking deep breaths.

When she pulled back the towels and observed the damage Rick stood to his feet and looked too, his heart aching for what his son was going through. The wound had been slow to heal that was for sure, but whatever blows Ron delivered had done some damage. It appeared the worst of the bleeding had stopped, but the surrounding edges that were on the brink of healing were open again, likely to require stitching. As Denise cautiously removed the sterile gauze that typically packed the wound Rick didn't allow himself to look away. He wanted to, his stomach turning and his heart hurting when he saw the extent of the wound, but he always looked. It felt like his duty to know exactly what condition Carl's injury was in, exactly how bad it was every time the dressing was changed.

"Does it need cleaning?" he asked, his eyes raking the area for dirt or debris.

Denise shook her head before instructing Rosita to prepare supplies for some sutures. "The bandage was still intact when he got here."

Grateful for the small blessing, Rick resumed his seat and looked at Carl. "What started all this?" he asked, seeking more information.

More settled now that the pain had eased up, Carl answered. "He's jealous of me," he muttered, an observation Rick had made before. "Enid and I were going back to see Carol about something. He just came out and starting hitting me."

"How many times did he hit you?"

"I don't know. I couldn't get him off me, he was just…"

Carl trailed off miserably, once again reminded of how weak he had become in the months that elapsed since his injury. Though on the whole he had recovered well, infections and illness had ravaged him, and despite growing almost an inch taller he hadn't gained any weight.

"Tara was outside the Infirmary, she got him off me. I think she kicked him too."

At this Rick glanced up at Rosita, querying her for more information.

"He hurt his hand," she remarked, her tone indicating she didn't give a shit.

Carl gave a bitter laugh, his mouth twisted into a miserable scowl. "I hope it was the hand he jerks off with," he muttered so quietly Rick almost didn't hear.

Though he echoed Carl's bitter laugh, Rick managed a genuine smile. "That's the spirit," he praised.

Rick stayed by his side as Denise carefully attended to his injuries, and as each suture was applied he watched Carl's face, ready to speak up should he see any sign of pain. But Carl lay still and quiet, his remaining eye closed like it usually was. Having his bandage changed or his wound looked at was the time he felt most vulnerable, the only time he would tolerate Rick holding his hand anymore. To everyone's relief Denise was finished in less than half an hour, a new dressing applied and held in place with a little tape.

"I want you to stay in for the afternoon," she requested. "A little more pain relief and some rest. Then you can go home. Okay?"

"Thanks," he said, readily agreeing with her.

Like always he was a little light headed from the pain relief, and so Rick helped him to the bathroom and then waited outside, his arms folded as he allowed himself a few moments of anger and resentment. Jessie had one responsibility in this community, and that was looking after her children. No one asked her to do anything else, everyone conscious of allowing her and her boys time to grieve regardless of who they grieved for, but Rick was furious with her now. This wasn't the first time Ron had been a thorn in their side, for this was perhaps the third time he and Carl had argued over their respective friendships with Enid and Mikey. All Jessie had to do was keep him away from Carl, and she couldn't manage it. It infuriated Rick to no end, making him want to march over there and tell her in person how much she had fucked up.

But as usual he resisted the urge, knowing that he was too close to the problem to be objective with what he said. He risked making things worse, risked ruining whatever semblance of normalcy Jessie had managed to create for her family. So instead he imagined it, enjoying a brief fantasy in which the Andersons were no longer around, no longer a problem. Like always it was a relief to imagine, even if it would never come to fruition.

"I know you have to go," Carl muttered when he lay back down on the Infirmary bed. "You don't have to hang around just for me."

"I'm staying in for a while," was his automatic reply. Unfolding a blanket he spread it across Carl, knowing that despite the warmth of the day he was likely to feel cold.

"Dad…" Carl began impatiently. "I know you need to. Just go."

Glad that Carl wasn't looking at him right now, Rick held his breath and thought for a moment. Like they had been for weeks now his priorities were at odds with one another, for although he needed to be there for his son, he was also needed at the quarry. This was an operation of mammoth scale, one that had Alexandria's safety riding on it. If this went wrong it could be catastrophic for them. This would only take a couple of hours, he'd probably be home for dinner…probably.

"I'll be ten minutes," he stated, having made his decision despite the dangers at the quarry. "I need to speak to Lana, then I'm coming back."

"Okay," Carl murmured, clearly disbelieving him.

"I'm coming back," he said firmly.

Leaving it at that, Rick straightened the blanket over his son and then left, thanking Denise as he departed. Carrie was gone, no longer waiting outside the curtain, and he didn't blame her for going home. There was nothing she could have done to help. As he fully expected he found Enid still waiting outside the Infirmary and so he forced himself to stop and talk to her, to tell her to go home. They both knew how self-conscious Carl felt about his injury, how he refused to let anyone but a select few see him without the bandage on, and that excluded Enid.

"Have you seen Lana around?" he asked her as she gave him back Carl's hat.

Enid nodded, her demeanour dejected. "She followed Carrie home…I think something happened."

Rick sighed in annoyance, not liking what he had heard. The last thing he needed now was Carrie and Lana at one another's throats, their pride making them argue and undermine each other. He tried to head straight home, knowing he might need to break up an argument before asking Lana to return to the quarry without him, but he found himself delayed a few moments. There were still people milling about, worriedly enquiring about Carl as he passed them by. Though he wanted to get home immediately he forced himself to pause, to reassure the people concerned about his son's welfare. The whole community cared for Carl, and at one stage or another had all been there to offer their help following his injury.

Finally getting away he walked straight home, pointedly not looking into Jessie's house as it passed it by. Jessie and Ron were a problem to handle later, and he knew that was something he needed to properly think about. Just like his father, the problems with Ron had started out small, his grievances against Carl forgivable given his poor home life, but today was something else. He'd attacked Carl without reason, he'd intentionally targeted his weakness to cause pain…Rick would not let that slide.

* * *

A/N Next chapter, the action starts!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N Hi readers! It's a long chapter with a couple of breaks and POV changes throughout, so settle in.

* * *

Friday, September 19

The very last thing Carrie expected to find upon her return home from the pantry was a street fight, and when she saw a figure march right up to another and strike them in the face she looked at them in bewilderment, struggling to comprehend the absurdity of what she was seeing. The bottom fell out of her stomach when she realised what was happening, that it was Carl who had come under attack. Taken completely by surprise he didn't fight back, the first strike to his face rendering him in agony as he fell to the ground with Ron on top of him. As Ron started hitting him again and again Carrie screamed at them, dropping her bag of Pantry supplies and leaving Judith in the middle of the street as she broke into a run, bit it ended as quickly as it started. Having been outside the Infirmary Tara got to them first, seizing Ron around the neck and roughly dragging him away. The two of them landed in a heap, Tara yelping in pain as Ron struggled and fought against her, but Carrie didn't spare them so much as a glance.

Others were coming to their aid, but she was the first to reach Carl who lay on the road clutching the bandage across his face. She hastened Enid to back away from him, to give them some space so that she could help him. His jaw was clenched in pain, his breaths coming in short heaves. In a state of panic she called out for Denise, seeing spots of blood appearing on the bandage. She didn't dare try to pry his hands away for fear they were stemming the bleeding, and in that moment she remembered the day he had been shot, the way she had tried to help him as he lay there bleeding. There was nothing she could do for him that day, just like there was nothing she could do today.

"I got you, you're going to be okay," she tried to reassure him, her heart breaking as he clenched his jaw, trying to endure the pain. "Just stay down, don't try to get up."

As Carl lay there and groaned Carrie looked up, glad to see Denise making her way over. She looked around some more then watched as Jessie burst out of her house and came running, her face alight in panic. Elsewhere Enid was screaming at Ron while Judith was left standing in the middle of the road, bewildered by all of the fuss. The attack itself was over, but still the scene it felt chaotic and uncontrolled, and as help arrived Carrie found herself wishing she knew what to do.

In a few short minutes the initial fuss of the incident was over, Tara and Richards escorting Ron home while Deanna sent a call to Rick. Gratefully she allowed Denise and Rosita to step in and take over for her, and she stepped back to give them some room. When he refused the aid of a wheelchair they slowly helped him to his feet and then walked him to the Infirmary, Carrie letting them go on ahead. Taking a moment to collect herself she turned to find Judith, giving Maggie a grateful nod when she saw her coaxing her towards home, using Herschel as a lure. As Judith happily went with her Carrie followed Carl to the Infirmary, steadfastly avoiding all concerned enquiries from those around her.

She pulled the roller blind shut to keep everyone else out, and as Carl gratefully sank down onto a bed Carrie went into the kitchen to wash her hands. "How can I help?" she asked Denise.

"N-no," Carl stuttered, his whole body shaking as he laid his head on the pillow. "Go away."

She blinked in surprise, having not expected this. Taking it in her stride she came forward anyway, but again Carl stopped her.

"I said no. Go away."

"Carl, I -"

"You're not looking, go away!"

Carrie stood there in silence, hurt by his rejection though she shouldn't be. Carl had always been very sensitive about who saw his injury, particular about who he allowed to change the bandages. He had no choice but to allow Denise and occasionally Rosita to administer treatment, but other than them it was Rick or Michonne only, without exception. Given that Denise was presently unwrapping the bandage from around his head Carrie should have expected his rejection. It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.

"We've got this," Rosita assured her, donning some gloves as she passed her by. "Can you pull the curtains?"

It was an instruction not a request, one that Carrie only reluctantly followed. She gave Carl a pleading look as she reached for the curtains, asking him to let her stay, to offer him some comfort. But he was resolute, his refusal of her company not to be swayed. With a heavy heart she pulled the curtains closed and allowed him the privacy he demanded, feeling her heart jolt when he gave a pained gasp. Left on the outside she could only listen as Denise removed the dressings and gauze that packed the wound, Rosita following her instructions to apply a clean towel to the site of the bleeding. As she waited Carrie could hear him on the other side of the curtain, the small whimpers made in the back of his throat in between shuddered breaths.

Somehow Rick made it back to Alexandria in minutes, arriving before Carrie really had time to collect herself. His expression was a twisted grimace when he entered, and he didn't say a word to her as he admitted himself behind the curtain, perhaps not trusting himself to speak. What had happened wasn't her fault, but there was always the unspoken understanding that she was responsible for the safety of his children when he was not around. Still left on the outside she listened as Rick asked his son what had happened, and she hung on to every word as Carl roughly explained what Ron had done.

She couldn't stand there waiting any longer, not if she wasn't able to go in there and do something about it, so with that in mind she opted to leave. When she stepped outside and breathed in the fresh air she started to tremble with anger, furious that Carl had been hurt like this. Enid was out there waiting, her wide eyes looking up at Carrie for the reassurance she had to give, even if the words were empty. There were still people hanging about, Errin on her hands and knees with a bucket of soapy water and a brush as she washed away droplets of blood from the pavement.

Lana was waiting outside the Infirmary too, seated on the hood of the car that Rick must have returned in, but Carrie didn't spare her any words or time. Instead she collected the bag of groceries that Rosemary had picked up for her, disappointed to note that the can of Coca-Cola she had taken for Rick had been dropped, that it would be flat now. More upset about that than necessary she headed home, knowing that she needed to relieve Maggie of the extra baby she found herself with. But she was halfway home when Jessie came out of her house, hastening towards her.

"Is he alright? Carrie?" Jessie asked urgently, meeting her at the corner and falling into step beside her.

"No, he's not alright."

"I-I'm so sorry," she said sincerely, imploring Carrie to hear her. "I had no idea what Ron was go-"

She came to a stop and then looked Jessie in the eye, glaring at her in resentment. "No, you never have any idea, do you," she said cruelly. Though she missed Jessie and longed for what their friendship had once been, it was immensely satisfying to see the remorse in her eyes. Jessie floundered for a moment, looking lost for words.

"Is there anything I can do?" Jessie helplessly asked.

"Haven't you done enough? Hasn't your family done enough to us?"

Jessie floundered again, fumbling over her words. "Ron, he's just…he's so angry, about everything," she tried to explain. "He won't listen to me, and -"

"Jessie, I don't give a fuck about Ron," Carrie snarled cruelly. "No one else does either."

There was a brief pause as hurt flashed across Jessie's face, but then she appeared to hold her ground, determined to say what she had come out to say. "Yeah, I know," she said, speaking candidly. "Everyone sides with Carl, and no one can separate Ron from his father. Especially you."

"They're one and the same."

"No, they're not," she argued vehemently. "Ron hates what his father did…but Ron is not the one who attacked you. He's not the one who shot Carl! Maybe if everyone would stop treating him like he was, then this wouldn't have happened today."

Carrie laughed incredulously, unable to believe the conclusion she drew. From the corner of her eye she saw that their brief argument had drawn attention from others, that Lana had made her way over and lingered at a distance. This bullshit with Ron had gone on long enough, it had to stop. For a moment she forced herself to picture what had happened to them at the hands of Pete, remembering the way Carl lay motionless on the ground, his gasps of pain from today. She drew a deep breath to steady herself and then stepped towards Jessie, not bothering to lower her voice.

"Keep your son away from mine, or I will."

She held Jessie's gaze for a moment and then turned away, her threat needing nothing else to back it up. Not so long ago she had hoped to restore her friendship with Jessie, for them to meet one another halfway and start repairing what Pete had broken, but it was no longer an option. In the back of her mind she had always suspected that it would never work, that too much had happened and the problems with Ron would only worsen. With her decision made she walked away from Jessie all together, having considered her priorities and then chosen accordingly.

Despite knowing she had made the right decision Carrie's head felt like a mess, her ultimatum to Jessie coupled with Carl's injury compelling her to go straight home. She needed a few minutes to herself right now, to get her head on straight before resuming her role as Judith's mother. Maggie could cope with the two babies for a few short minutes, and as she told herself that she poured herself a glass of water. It may only be ten o'clock in the morning, yet she found herself wishing she could have poured a glass of Sauvignon Blanc instead. As she drank she leant against the kitchen counter, grateful for the privacy in which she could collect herself. There was nothing she could do to help Carl. She was grateful that Rick had been able to come back and comforted herself with the knowledge that he was there, that Carl had someone he would allow to support him.

Her frustration peaking, Carrie grit her teeth and groaned, unable to believe what had happened. She had her suspicions that whatever got on Ron's nerves that day had something to do with Enid, having overheard recently that Enid was no longer friends with him. Until now she had tried to manage her friendship with both of them and Mikey too, but perhaps she was beginning to pick a side. It had to be hard losing Enid as a friend, particularly given the so recent loss of his father, but Carrie felt no sympathy for Ron. She wanted to grab him by the hair just like Pete had done to her, to drag him to the Infirmary and make him look at what he had done to Carl. But even as she she imagined this she suspected that it would be of no use, that deep down Ron didn't care about the pain he was inflicting.

In the privacy of her own home she allowed a few tears to fall, feeling frustrated with herself for the way her emotions affected her lately. Ever since Pete's attack and falling pregnant it felt harder and harder to keep it together, like the strength of mind she once possessed had weakened. It didn't help that the last few months had been so difficult, that even on the days when things were wonderful there was always the memory of what happened to them. And as much as she resented Jessie in moments like this, Carrie missed her too. Though she had many other friends, the loss of Jessie's friendship had been particularly difficult to accept, its absence saddening. She had no role in it, but Jessie was sorry for what Pete had done, for the heartache he had inflicted on Rick's family…and yet she couldn't forgive Carrie for killing him, even under the circumstances.

If things were different, Carrie knew that Jessie would have been one of the first she told about her pregnancy. She would have looked forward to giving her the happy news, and Jessie would have been thrilled for her and Rick. Though it wouldn't be lacking from anyone else she sought it from, Jessie would have been a wonderful source of information and guidance for Carrie as her pregnancy progressed, and after too. They would have spent hours together, poring over baby books while Jessie answered the questions she didn't want to ask anyone else. Even after what had just happened out on the street, Carrie still hoped that maybe things could be different, that maybe there was something she could do to fix everything that was wrong…but Rick had been right all along. It wasn't going to work.

She heard a soft knock at the front door, and so she hastily wiped at her eyes and then cleared her throat. "Maggie, I'm sorry," she sighed, setting her glass down and heading for the front door. "Thanks for…"

Trailing off she frowned when she saw who it was. Lana stood in the open doorway, tentatively looking inside. "Not Maggie," she apologised. "Just me."

Carrie stood there dumfounded, surprised that Lana was there. Immediately she felt her cheeks redden, knowing her face was stained with tears. "I…I need to get Judith," she said, automatically making an excuse to avoid her. What could Lana possibly want now, of all times? "Maggie's alone with her and Herschel."

"Actually, she's not. I just walked by, Deanna's there with her."

She stopped in her tracks. "Oh." There was an awkward pause now, Lana uncomfortably lingering in the doorway while they looked at one another. "Come in," she said, the words sounding strange in her mouth. "Do you…would you like something to drink?"

The corner of Lana's mouth twitched, and she looked pleasantly surprised by the offer. "Sure. What you got?"

"Water…and apple juice so watered down it's water."

Lana smiled properly now, laughing under her breath. "Hey, we got OJ like that at my place. Water's fine, thanks."

Turning away to fetch a clean glass Carrie allowed herself a moment of sheer disbelief, feeling as if she had entered a parallel universe. From the corner of her eye she watched as Lana came in and then took a seat at the island counter, self-consciously readjusting the way she placed her hands, starting out with them on the counter before moving them to her lap. She filled a glass with some tap water and then brought it over to her, glad to see that Lana looked as out of place as she herself felt. This was particularly strange…what did she want?

"Lana, don't take this the wrong way," she began after a long pause. "But is there something you need?"

Lana's eyes widened slightly, and she seemed glad Carrie had addressed the awkwardness first. "I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"I wasn't hurt. It was-"

"I know you weren't hurt…but I know you and Jessie have some history. I saw you two talking before. That was quite the threat you made. You okay?"

Astonished, Carrie couldn't help but speak her mind. "I've got to say, I'm surprised you care."

Frowning, Lana cleared her throat before replying. "I sure as shit don't like you, but I want you to get hit by a bus either."

A laugh burst out of Carrie's mouth, amused by her bluntness. To her relief Lana laughed too, smiling genuinely as she took a sip of her water. "Well, I…" Carrie started, suddenly unable to articulate her thoughts. "Same here, I guess."

"Good. Glad we got that out of the way. So, you okay?"

Carrie paused, pursing her lips as she looked away. She hated that question, the concerned enquiry having been posed to her many times over the last couple of months. "Yeah, I'm okay," she said. But even as she said that she glanced out the kitchen window as if looking for Jessie. "I'm just upset about Carl, that's all."

Lana nodded at this, looking suitably sympathetic. She took a heavy breath, considering her next words. "Sucks to be him I guess."

"Yeah," she agreed, though that didn't really sum up his plight.

There was another pause before Lana spoke again, this time with some animation and amusement coming to her eyes. " _Fark_ , the gossip around this place? Worse than the Country Women's Association back home, and those old bitches were a bunch of babble mouths."

"Gossip?" Though she asked for clarification, Carrie knew exactly what she was about to say.

"You and Carl. Pete. I've must have heard three or four versions of what happened. The one I trust is Deanna's."

Carrie's heart leapt, not believing that Deanna was a gossip. "Deanna?"

"It wasn't gossip, that's why I trust it," she replied. "I was here a week and what happened was still all I heard about. I asked Deanna what the deal was, if I needed to be aware of any families out for blood. She gave me the facts and none of the splendour."

"And the splendour you heard?"

Lana smiled. "Rumour has it you were and Pete were having an affair, that you killed him in a _lover's quarrel,_ " she joked. "Other variations include Carl catching you two in the act…like I said, splendour."

"And Deanna's version?"

"Pete had a grudge against Rick, and he acted on it. You and Carl got caught in the crossfire."

It hurt to hear it put so plainly, for although the explanation encompassed the facts, it felt infinitely less simple. "Yeah, that's about it," she admitted.

"Like I said," Lana shrugged. "Sucks to be Carl. Sucks to be you too, I guess."

Carrie's hackles were immediately raised. "I don't want your pity. Not anyone's."

"Good, 'cos you won't get it from me."

Once again surprised by Lana's bluntness, she managed a small smile. "Okay then," she said awkwardly, trailing off into silence.

"You know, I wish things were different between us," Lana said candidly. She sat up a little straighter, brushing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "I think I could learn a lot from you."

There was no stopping the pride that bloomed inside of Carrie at this remark, secretly glad to hear such a thing, but she didn't let it show. "What makes you say that?"

"I watched your video. Your interview with Deanna."

She gasped softly, looking at her appalled. "You what?"

"Deanna really ought to put a lock on her office," she explained without apology. "I watched a heaps of interviews, including Rick's. Have you ever seen his?"

Momentarily speechless, it took her a second to reply. "No."

"You should watch it. Seriously, the state he was in…he was someone else when he got here. If it makes any difference, you can watch my interview."

Letting this sink in, Carrie shook her head in frustration. It bothered her that Lana had invaded everyone's privacy by accessing Deanna's computer without permission, but it infuriated her that she didn't think of doing it first. "I don't blame you for watching those videos. If I'd thought of it first I would have done the same thing."

The corner of Lana's mouth twitched. "Maybe we're not so different, you and I."

"Maybe that's why we don't like each other," she countered.

Again, Lana smiled, though this time it felt more like a smirk. "My mum told me girls don't get along because we're secretly jealous of one another. Because we feel threatened."

"Oh? We're jealous of one another?" Carrie questioned, even though Lana's words rang true for her at least.

"I know I'm jealous of you," she said bluntly, unembarrassed. "You've got a lot that I don't. Anyway, we didn't exactly get off to the best start when I flirted with your man."

Carrie felt flustered, horrified that Lana had made this observation. "What? No, I-"

Lana's knowing laugh made her trail off awkwardly. "Come on," she teased. "I saw you that night at the party, guarding your territory like a magpie in spring."

"I wasn't."

"You weren't hanging off him until you saw me flirting, touching his arm and flipping my hair. Next thing there you were, all smiles with your hand in his back pocket, reminding him who he belongs to. Not that he needed reminding," she added kindly. "He was really good at ignoring my flirting while still being polite to me."

Carrie held her tongue for a moment, knowing her cheeks had reddened again. It was humiliating that Lana had made this observation, that she knew how jealous and threatened she had felt that night. It had been just over a month since Pete's attack, she and Rick weren't even sleeping together again…the sight of a beautiful woman flirting with him had ignited every insecurity she felt. Lana was younger than her, prettier and willing to have sex. Yet at the same time Carrie felt an unusual sense of faith towards her, blindly trusting that this wasn't the type of thing Lana was going to spread about the community.

"Alright, I was jealous that night. I didn't like you flirting with him."

"It's okay," Lana shrugged. "I've never been able to be friends with guys who have girlfriends. But me flirting with Rick, it wasn't personal."

Carrie raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"He'd good looking and all, but I'm not attracted to him. Not enough to sleep with him anyway…probably."

"Then why flirt with him?"

"He's the real leader of this place, even if he doesn't flaunt it," she remarked, another astute observation. "My group were outsiders. We still are. It made sense to get cosy with the leader."

Reluctantly agreeing with what she said, Carrie nodded her head before starting to frown. "Wait. You're not attracted to him enough to sleep with him, _probably_?"

Lana grinned and then chuckled at her expense. "What can I say? If he wanted to get some, I wouldn't say no."

Another laugh burst from Carrie's lips. "I appreciate your honesty, I think."

"I'm used to other women being threatened by me," she shrugged. "I had to get used to it. Being blunt about these things helps."

Carrie started to say something else but then trailed off. From the corner of her eye she could see Rick through the kitchen window, watching as he strode down the pavement towards the house. He had been craning his neck to see inside, looking worried, though with Carl in the Infirmary she couldn't imagine what he had at home to worry about. Barely a moment later his boots were echoing on the front porch, his haste pronounced thanks to his heavy footfall.

"Is everything alright here?" he asked cautiously, entering the house as though he didn't know what to expect.

Carrie frowned, and it took her a moment to remember why he would be surprised to find her in Lana's company. She glanced at Lana and then back at Rick, giving him a reassuring nod. "Everything's fine. Carl?"

Coming in properly now Rick's shoulders slumped, his weariness for his son's ill health showing. "He's in a lot of pain. Denise is keeping him in for a couple of hours."

"Are you staying or going back to the quarry?" Lana asked.

Carrie looked at Rick expectantly, holding her breath. In her eyes there was only one acceptable answer, and she wasn't going to let it fly if he made the wrong choice.

"I need to stay, at least until he comes home. Can you go back without me?"

Lana didn't hesitate. "Sure."

"Thank you," he said in gratitude, meaning it. "I'm sorry to do this, but I need to stay."

"I get it, he's your kid." She finished her water and then pushed her empty glass across the counter, thanking Carrie. "I'll go straight away. I've got a long range radio, I'll check in with you when I get there."

"I want an update on what's happening immediately. If they decide to open the quarry, I want to be the first to know."

"Got it," she agreed before turning to Carrie. "Can I use your bathroom?"

She nodded and gestured to the hall. "Back there, second on the left."

Without further preamble Lana disappeared down the corridor, leaving Rick to look at Carrie in disbelief. He waited until they heard the bathroom door close, and then he came closer to her. "What's going on?"

"We're just talking."

"You and Lana? When I heard she followed you home I was worried I'd have to break up a fight." She shook her head to reassure him, yet he still looked at her with skepticism. "Rosemary told me something happened," he pressed.

"Not with Lana. It was Jessie."

Rick's expression soured, his dissatisfaction evident. "What happened?" Her answer was cut off by Lana's return, Rick's attention quickly diverting to her instead. "You have everything you need?" he asked her, a usual question he posed to someone leaving the safety of Alexandria.

"I'm all good," she assured him. "I'll check in when I get there."

"Thank you," he said again. "I appreciate this."

As Rick turned back to her Carrie looked past him, an out of place smile crossing her face when she saw Lana blatantly checking him out. With him turned away she raked her eyes up and down him before turning to Carrie, smiling and giving her an exaggerated wink. A laugh of both amusement and incredulousness passed her lips, the motion making Rick turn around for a moment, but Lana was gone before he could notice her gaze. He turned back to Carrie in confusion, and despite the seriousness of the situation her smile didn't fade. She felt strangely pleased that Lana was checking him out, admiring her nerve of doing it right in front of her.

"What happened with Jessie?"

The seriousness of the situation returned, her smile fading. "She tried to apologise for what happened, and I shot her down," she answered quietly, saddened by the encounter. "I yelled at her. I was cruel."

"Good," Rick said bluntly, his arms folded across his chest. "Jessie has one responsibility around this place, and that's keeping Ron away from Carl. If she can't handle that, then someone needs to tell her."

Carrie nodded, reluctantly agreeing with him. "She didn't know what Ron was going to do," she said, and even as the words left her mouth she knew she shouldn't be defending her.

"I don't care. It's not good enough."

Again she nodded, her agreement still only reluctant. "I know. It's just, she…" Carrie trailed off, not knowing what she was going to say. There was a brief pause now, but Rick hastened to fill it.

"Carl is in agony because she can't control Ron," he said with contempt. "I don't care if she's sorry, I don't care if she didn't know what he was going to do. He's her responsibility."

"I wasn't defending her," she said softly, even though she regretfully had been.

"Good. I don't want to be the kind of man who tells you who you can be friends with, but I have to in this case. Your friendship with Jessie, it has to be over. You have to let it go."

She looked down at the floor, her heart aching as she listened to the way he talked about Jessie. This wasn't the first time he had told her to let go of the friendship, but until now she thought he said that only for her benefit. Now she could see that it was to his benefit too. He resented Jessie for her association with Pete, for the ongoing role she played in their lives.

"It's never going to work between you two," he continued vehemently. "Too much has happened. She's ineffectual. If she can't control Ron, then -"

"Just stop," she suddenly snapped at him. It had suddenly become too much to listen to him anymore, the words coming out of her mouth without even thinking.

She looked up at him now, grateful that he had fallen silent. There was no need for him to keep going, for she already knew everything he was telling her. Seeing the pain in her eyes Rick stood down, his body language softening as he softly murmured his apology. He held her gaze for a few moments, sharing her sadness.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded, her throat tightening as she thought about what had happened to Carl, of the pain he was in. "I'm glad you could come back. Carl, he…he wouldn't let me in there. He wouldn't let me help him."

Rick gave a heavy sigh, understanding what she meant. "It's not personal, Carrie. Sometimes he won't even let me."

"Yeah, I know."

He came over now, and Carrie gratefully moved into his embrace and let him hold her. As he put his arms around her and nuzzled the top of her head she did the same, her head resting on his shoulder as she remembered she wasn't the only one who needed comfort. He too was stressed out, carrying the burden of the quarry herd and the group from Washington, and now the pain of Carl's injury. There was no doubt in her mind that Rick's heart ached for Carl's loss, that in his own way he felt his son's pain too. With this in mind she squeezed her arms around him a little more tightly, turning her head and kissing the side of his neck. She gave him a soft murmur of affection, telling him that she loved him and glad when he responded in kind.

"We're going to be okay," Rick told her as they pulled apart, echoing the very words she had told him after Carl's injury occurred. They said these words to one another in moments like this, their way of reminding one another that they weren't giving up, that they were still in this together.

"You're staying back?" she confirmed, not willing to put it past him that he might return to the quarry later.

"Only until they really need me," he promised. "The quarry might hold out for the day. It might even be better to do this at night, we've talked about it. I'll wait to hear when Lana checks in."

It was all that she could expect from him, but she was glad for the compromise he had made. "Thank you," she said sincerely, glad that he was staying. "He probably won't say it, but I know Carl likes having you around when he's not feeling great."

Rick nodded in agreement, he too knowing this. "I should get back there."

As he started to pull away he let his hand move over her front, touching her belly. She smiled at the gesture, her heart warming when he let his hand linger for a few moments. Since they had told Carl the previous night there hadn't been much opportunity for she and Rick to talk things over, to evaluate how well Carl had taken the news. Daryl had been home that evening, and then this morning he had to leave so quickly. Maybe later they could talk things over, they could curl up on the couch with his arm around her waist and his hand on her belly. It was a nice thought to have, a moment of happiness to break through the melancholy of everything else.

"Go," she prompted him, gesturing to the door. "You go to Carl, I'll bring Judy home."

He nodded in agreement, but he coaxed a kiss from her before complying. She sighed against his lips, enjoying the touch of them against her own. For another brief moment she got to imagine that everything was alright, that it was just the two of them without a care in the world. But like that fantasy always did it came to an end, she and Rick forced to face reality once more. They left the house hand in hand and then departed only at Maggie's front door, and from there Carrie lingered and watched him returning to the Infirmary alone.

As she let herself inside, not needing an invitation, Carrie knew in the pit of her stomach that things with Ron were not over yet.

* * *

Saturday, September 20

A great many things changed overnight.

Although the quarry had help up admirably through the storm and the days that followed, Alexandria now teetered on the edge of catastrophe, and they needed to take action fast. The dry run carried out in Rick's absence had gone well, his group expertly handling the various intricacies as he knew they would, but things were starting to move quickly now. The storm had eroded the ground beneath the largest truck blocking the lower exit, and while the ground crumbled away the only thing keeping it in place was a heavy tractor and prayer. With this in mind, Rick had all but decided that they were opening the quarry today.

First he still had that meeting with Richard to contend with. Their agreement had been to meet again on the first day of clear weather, and undoubtedly that meant today. Though he had no intention of working with these people to move the herd, despite his agreement that with their assistance they would send it north, Rick was going to the meeting. For now there was a pretence to maintain, and if that meant he had to blatantly lie to build rapport and develop a relationship with this group, then he held no qualms about that. He would go to Washington today, he would nod his head and say all the right things, thank them for their contribution and start laying out plans for how they could redirect the herd north…and then he'd leave and do whatever he felt best for Alexandria. After they were done in Washington he would return to the quarry and assess the situation. A decision would be made, and the herd would either be evacuated that day or the next. Richard never needed to know that Alexandria had gone back on their word.

That morning he had awoken to the sound of Judith's sweet voice, and he listened to her occasionally calling out to him while she played in her crib. He knew what she wanted, her tone of voice telling him she was more in the mood for a cuddle than her breakfast, but still he delayed actually getting up to her, hoping that Carrie would beat him to it instead. But she always tended to sleep a little heavier than he, only ever awakening to Judith when she really made her presence known. It was a relief when the room brightened as Carl came in, shuffling his feet along the floor as he mumbled a greeting to his sister. Though his entrance was welcomed Rick fumbled around with the sheets and roughly yanked them up, making sure that Carrie was adequately covered as she slept naked beside him.

While Carl bustled around and changed his sister's diaper Rick opened his eyes and looked at him, checking on him. Yesterday afternoon he had spent a few more hours at the Infirmary before making his way home, still doped up on the pain killers that saw him falling asleep on the couch before it was even dark. He'd been as miserable as expected, dealing not only with the painful injury that brought back every limitation he struggled with, but also the reminder that he and Ron were never going to be friends again. Rick could foresee exactly how today would play out, that Carl would insist everything was fine, that any concern for his comfort and wellbeing was Rick fussing too much. Conscious of what he was like, Rick reminded himself to have Tara check in on him while they were gone, to come and hang out at least until Carrie came home.

The consequences of Ron's unprovoked attack were to be immediate, with Rick refusing to back down until he was some what satisfied with the punishment. Yesterday while Carl lay in the Infirmary Rick and Jessie had a tough conversation, one in which she apologised profusely while he listened without softening. It took everything he had to keep his temper with her, to not tell her how he really felt about she and her family. What Pete had done to Carrie and Carl wasn't Jessie's fault, but Ron's behaviour was. Jessie had one responsibility in Alexandria, and that was her children. All she had to do was keep Ron's behaviour in line and ensure he stayed away from Carl, and he hadn't been able to manage that simple task.

Discussion of Ron's punishment had started with talk of him being grounded, stripped of all privileges and the right to leave his house except for school. As he listened Rick had nodded along patiently, waiting for something that would adequately satisfy him, and when Jessie trailed off and looked at him awkwardly he made his thoughts perfectly clear.

"I want to speak to Ron. Alone."

Jessie blinked at him in surprise. "Alone?"

"Yes. Alone."

There was a moment in which it looked like she might refuse, a refusal that Rick sure as hell would have made were their positions reversed. No way would another angry parent be reprimanding and punishing his child without him there, but he didn't care for the hypocrisy. Instead he stood his ground to Jessie, satisfied when she reluctantly agreed and went inside to get Ron. When he came out a minute later his face was ashen and grey, for all purposes looking remorseful for what he had done, but even if it was genuine Rick didn't care. While Jessie waited on the porch Ron came onto the road to where Rick was waiting.

"Mr Grimes, I-"

"I don't want to hear it," he bluntly cut him off, clearing his throat before stooping down to Ron's level, facing him one on one. "I've feel like we've had this conversation too many times. Don't you agree?"

"Yeah," he said softly. His shameful eyes were cast onto the ground, and he looked up only at Rick's sharp instruction to.

"I'm leaving you with two options here," he began lowly, holding eye contact and keeping his face impassive. "Option one. Tomorrow morning you present yourself at eight o'clock in the morning to start your punishment. You will work five days a week for the next month. Cleaning bathrooms and kitchens, cutting grass, chopping firewood, cleaning windows, cars, pulling weeds…anything I can think of."

Without hesitation Ron nodded, giving no hint of protest. "W-what's option two?"

"Option two, is tomorrow morning your mother wakes up and makes you and your brother breakfast like she does every morning. Except when she goes upstairs to wake you, you're not going to be there." For a moment it looked like Ron was going to roll his eyes in disdain, and Rick quickly nipped that in the bud. "You think it's funny? You think I don't mean what I'm saying to you? Your father didn't either…he didn't listen."

It was this comment that seemed to hit home, and as Ron's features twisted with a grimace he looked away, taking a breath in and then slowly releasing it. "Where will I be?"

"You will be where Carrie put your father," Rick warned. "Where I should have put him myself. A hole in the ground, far away from here. Do you understand? Look at me when you answer."

Obedient, Ron looked back up. "I get it."

"I hope you do, because I don't care how old you are. I don't care how sad you are, or how much your mother loves you. Your actions are going to have consequences… _I am those consequences_ ," he said, enunciating clearly. "What's it going to be, Ron?"

"The first thing." There was silence for a moment, Rick allowing it to stretch on until Ron urgently repeated himself, his eyes widening as if he feared he had been misheard. "E-eight o'clock tomorrow."

Again Rick allowed the silence to stretch on, but not for too long. "Eight o'clock, right here," he confirmed. "Now go back there and tell your mother I offered you mercy and forgiveness, again. I'll know if you haven't."

"I'll apologise to-"

"No, you won't," he said sharply. "Now go."

To his satisfaction Ron did exactly as he was told, returning to Jessie and solemnly recounting their discussion. It appeared she held no qualms about the punishment Rick had imposed on him, her expression stern as she nodded her head in agreement and then sent him inside. Though she lingered out there to speak with him a little more, Rick ignored her and returned to the Infirmary instead. She was doing the right thing by agreeing to his punishment, but even that made him lose a little more faith in her. Jessie really was ineffectual…she was going to let another parent punish her child on her behalf? Right or wrong, Rick wouldn't have stood for that.

Laying there in bed, Rick waited until the bedroom door closed as Carl and Judith departed, and then he raised his head and looked at the clock. Six forty-five. He had a little over an hour before Ron would be waiting for his punishment to start, and with the opportunity to sleep in a little more he indulged himself. He was not typically in the habit of sleeping in, but the past couple of weeks had been catching up on him, his body urging him to take advantage of the opportunity to rest. Moving closer to her he wound his arm around Carrie's waist and let his fingers stroke the curve of her breast, suspecting that Carl had awoken her. Indeed she was awake, and when she felt his touch she moved back into his embrace, murmuring something as she turned her head to afford him a sleepy kiss.

As he got comfortable and closed his eyes again he thought back to the way she welcomed him home last night, having spent a few hours at the quarry checking on Abraham and the crew keeping watch there. By the time he came out from quickly cleaning up in the shower he'd found her sprawled out on the bed naked, her hand between her legs and she impatiently waited for him. Once again the work associated with the herd and the other group in Washington had started getting in the way of moments like this, and as such the delay in him actually going to sleep was most welcome. Despite this train of thought and his body's easy responsiveness to it, Rick closed his eyes and relaxed, feeling bone tired.

When his eyes fluttered open a little while later he made no effort to get up, not even when he saw that it was seven fifteen. But upon discovering the space beside him was vacant he stretched his arms out, noting that the sheets where Carrie had been sleeping were still warm. Still sleepy he lazed where he was and tried not to think about the day ahead, instead looking across the room to where Carrie stood at their bureau. She stood there gloriously naked, the gap in the curtains providing just enough light that he could admire her body from where he lay. For a few happy moments he watched her standing there, his eyes raking her shape before stopping at the tattoo on her ass that always made him smile. It embarrassed her now that she was older, not feeling that Tinkerbell was exactly age appropriate, and he loved to tease her about it. When the mood was right he enjoyed nothing more than brushing his hand over that exact spot, a gentle pinch reminding her that he was thinking about her, about her tattoo as well.

Wondering if he might be lucky enough to coax her back into bed with him, for he had a few ideas about how they could waste half and hour, Rick turned onto his back and folded his hands behind his head. Whatever she was doing there had her full attention, and she hadn't yet noticed that he was awake. He listened to a soft clinking sound, but he was focused more on the sway of her hips as she shifted her weight, on the glimpse he caught of her breast when she picked something up. She was studying her left hand long and hard, and he waited with bated breath for her to put whatever she had down, for her to move her arm so he could catch another glimpse of…

"Carrie!" he said loudly. Realising what she was looking at his heart leapt into his throat, and he sat bolt upright. "What the hell are you doing?"

She jolted in surprise as she spun around, a panicked yelp slipping from her throat as she found that she had been caught. For one horrible moment they looked at one another in shock, both of them horribly aware of what she had discovered hidden among his things. That moment stretched on until Carrie acted, her cheeks reddening as she hastily yanked the diamond right off her left hand and put it back into the wooden box. She scrambled to collect the other rings she had set out on their bureau, tossing them back into the box before closing the lid.

When she turned back around he could see how embarrassed she was, that she was worried he might be angry with her for snooping. He was definitely angry with her, infuriated that she had gone through his things and ruined any element of surprise he had hoped to deliver…but his anger faded when he saw the glint of happiness in her eyes. Despite being caught snooping through his things, Carrie was pleased with what she had found. Those rings had been hidden in his wooden box for well over a month now, Rick struggling to decide which one she'd like even after showing them to Michonne for advice. With that type of thing rarely coming to mind these days, Rick simply had no idea of Carrie's taste in jewellery. Would she prefer yellow or white gold? A princess cut diamond or brilliant? Given he didn't have to pay anything for them, the jewellery having been scavenged off Walkers, the choices felt endless.

With a heavy sigh he slumped back down onto his pillow. "I suppose I ought to have hidden them a little more carefully," he muttered, his way of letting her know he wasn't too mad.

There was a long pause, Carrie gauging his response before making her way back to the bed. "Hidden what?"

"Ah huh," he muttered, sighing again. Despite being thoroughly unhappy with her he welcomed her when she lay down beside him, enjoying the way it felt to have her naked body against his own. He reached his arm behind her shoulder and slipped his hand into her hair, letting the locks fall through his fingers. Perhaps he might forgive her.

"Don't go today."

He frowned and opened his eyes again, looking down at the crown of her head. Her face was pressed into the crook of his neck, hiding her expression from him. "To what? The meeting in Washington, or the quarry?"

"Either," she muttered. "Stay home with me. Let's stay in bed all day."

Though it was an agreeable idea, Rick turned her down. "You know I can't."

There was a pause, Carrie trailing her fingertips over his stomach where his skin erupted in gooseflesh. She raised her head and looked at him properly, a spark appearing in her eyes. "Stay in bed with me all day," she started, bargaining with him. "And I'll do that thing you like."

This got his attention, though he knew better than to be swayed. "But you already did that last night. You'll spoil me."

Not skipping a beat, she leant down and brought her lips to his ear, the sensation of her warm breath on his skin making him wait in anticipation. "I meant the other thing you like."

Again he smiled, but though he highly approved of her suggestion he didn't answer. Instead he turned his head and softly pressed his lips against hers, his apology needing no words. He was glad when she accepted his refusal and laid her head back down on his shoulder, but it unnerved him. Her request that he stay home had come out of no where, and it was unusual for her to ask that he leave the rest of their group one short during a critical operation where lives were at stake.

"Is somethin' bothering you?" he asked softly.

"No."

"Carrie?"

"Nothing's bothering me," she said lowly, her fingertips still moving over his lower stomach. "I just wish we didn't have to go."

"I wish that too. You know, you don't have to come to Washington with us," he said, quietly hopeful that she would decide against it. "You should stay home."

She shook her head as he knew she would. "If you're going to Washington, then I'm going to Washington."

Despite what had been said, a peaceful silence fell as she lay there with him. Listening carefully to their surroundings Rick could hear his children downstairs, Judith's joyful laughter permeating through the house. He wondered who it was down there making her laugh, if it was Carl or if Daryl was awake too.

"Should we get up?" she asked, her hand moving down on his lower stomach now.

"No," he answered, not looking forward to dealing with the first day of Ron's punishment.

When he felt her chest rumble with a small laugh he knew he had said the right thing. "Excellent answer." She pressed her lips to his chest and then sat up a little, peering up at him. "When we're done in Washington, let's both come home and stay. Leave the quarry for another day."

"You know I can't do that."

"Then let me come with you to the quarry."

Rick looked at her in curiosity, surprised by her requests. "You know I can't do that either."

There was a flash of disappointment in her eyes, but she seemed to take it in her stride. She lowered her head and pressed her lips back to his chest again, but it was her hand he was paying most attention to. As she moved up and kissed him properly her hand moved lower, her fingers beginning to lightly stroke his penis. Pleased with her train of thought he brought her lips to his and kissed her again, deepening it before moving on to her neck instead. They had time to spare…Ron could wait for all he cared.

"You're trying to convince me?" he questioned.

"Is it working?"

"No."

She took him firmly in her hand now, the added pressure drawing a content groan from his throat. "How about now?"

With his lips pressed firmly against her throat it took him a moment to reply, his tongue laving over her skin. "It's worth a shot…keep trying."

Heeding his request she did exactly that, stroking him over and over as he lay his head back on the pillow with a soft moan. While he let her keep going for a short while he watched on, his eyes drifting closed before opening again, and it was oh so tempting to just lay there and let her do it all. With a deep breath he propped himself up on one elbow, his hand exploring her body at leisure while his lips lightly kissed her neck. The unusual request that he stay home lingered between them, as did her discovery of the engagement rings, but quickly enough he began to forget. He tried to make her lay down, wanting to take over and have his way with her, but she refused to budge.

Shaking her head she smirked at him, staying strong until he reluctantly gave up. Pleased to have her way she gently pushed his head towards her breasts, and that motion was all he needed. Eagerly he took advantage of the opportunity, having been disappointed last night when they were a definite no go zone. Though he wasn't rude enough to comment uninvited, in his opinion pregnancy sure was agreeing with her breasts. He happily indulged himself in her body, kissing and licking her breasts while she continued stroking him, her breaths coming in heavy sighs that matched his own.

Before he knew it she was on top of him, straddling his hips as she sat up to her knees and looked down at him. For a minute or so she rocked back and forth, rubbing the peak of her legs along his length until he was certain he couldn't take any more. When she finally guided him into her body and sank down he let out a rough grunt, his eyes rolling back in his head as it fell back onto the pillow.

"Ugh, Carrie," he groaned, his hands clutching at her hips. "Yes…"

She beamed as she slowly gyrated on top of him, taking her sweet time. "Convinced yet?"

It took him a few moments to answer, his brain slow to catch up with what she meant. He thrust up against her, both easily finding a rhythm with one another. "N-not yet…keep trying."

Her laugh was joyful, a reassurance that although they both knew he wasn't changing his mind she had accepted his answer. As she slowly took her time with him Rick had to resist every urge to take over, to sit up and move her beneath him so he could take control of things. It would easy to achieve, her strength nothing against his, but it wasn't what she wanted. Even after so long together he felt himself toeing the line of being forceful, often wondering what the difference was between being assertive and forcing her…he didn't want to risk getting it wrong.

The sound of voices posed a sudden distraction, the presence of their family downstairs worrying him for a few moments. He turned his eyes away from the bedroom door and back to Carrie, instantly forgetting about the potential for interruption. To him she was beautiful always, but she looked damn angelic on top of him like this, her messy hair a halo around her face to contrast the pillow marks on her cheek. His hands clutched at her hips, helping her keep a steady rhythm until she began to tire. When her slow breaths turned into fatigued pants he helped her lay down on top of him, her head buried in the crook of his neck while their hips continued moving, never faltering.

Her heavy pants were like music to his ears, and he hung on to every sound she made, knowing she was getting closer and closer to finishing. Soon he recognised the next change in her breathing, listening to her strangled gasps as he felt her body starting to tense up. Knowing better than to change things at the wrong moment he kept going as they were, concentrating with all he had on not finishing too early. Finally she reached her peak, breathless praises falling from her lips interspersed with the soft whine from the back of her throat. Only when he was certain she was done did he roll her over, taking what he needed in order to achieve the same.

Less successful than she at keeping things quiet, Rick kissed her fiercely when he came, drowning the loud grunt he couldn't stop if he tried. She had entwined her arms and legs around him, still rocking up against him as he finished, and when he all but collapsed on top of her she brought her hands into his hair. There was that perfect moment in which nothing else in the world mattered, nothing existed but the two of them, and he wanted that feeling so stretch on all day. Settling himself over her he pressed his cheek against hers, feeling her huffed breaths against his ear.

"Don't," Carrie said when he tried to move off her. Her legs were entwined around his, and she tightened them. "Stay."

Heeding her request he made no further attempt to move, content to stay exactly there, feeling her body beneath his as they lay in recovery. In the back of his mind he knew someone had been coming up the stairs at the worst possible moment, and he prayed only that it was Carl, not Daryl. His son wouldn't be paying attention to anything outside his own little world, whereas he didn't think he could take the knowing smirk Daryl would have given them if he had overheard anything.

A short while later when he felt her nudging him he managed to find the strength to move, giving a heavy sigh as he lay down beside her. Not letting him go too far she kept her arm around him, both of them readjusting so they could lay close. Resorting to what was easy and comfortable she faced away and allowed him to pull her back against his chest, and when they were comfortable they became still. He felt too alert to go back to sleep, but he closed his eyes and rested anyway, his body calling for a brief reprieve. Carrie on the other hand lay awake, her hand stroking his side as they lay there in silence, but she didn't speak.

"You going to tell me what's wrong?" he asked a few minutes later, speaking his words against the back of her shoulder.

"Nothing's wrong," she denied for a second time.

Rick was not convinced, and he took a deep breath before opening his eyes. "You'd never ask me to leave our people one short unless something was wrong. What is it?"

There was a long pause before Carrie gave any response. She moved his arm off her waist and sat up, and just as he worried she was leaving she instead turned around to face him. Laying below her he couldn't help but think she looked sad, and he knew she had a lot on her mind right now. Finally she lay back down with her head on his chest and her arm slung over his stomach, letting him hold her the same way he had earlier.

"Nothing's wrong," she said again, and then she elaborated. "I just don't want you to go."

He didn't say anything for a few moments, unsure of how to respond. "I don't want to go either," he said honestly. Thinking about the day ahead the idea of staying at home with his family was far more appealing, but that was mere fantasy. "It will be fine."

"Oh?"

"We'll go to Washington and meet up with Richard. Then I'll go the quarry, and you'll come home to the kids. Hang out with Tara, keep Carl back from school…do your yoga," he suggested next. "I know it relaxes you."

She chuckled softly, her fingertips stroking the old scar on the side of his chest from where he was shot. "Less so when Judy comes past and smacks my ass."

"She does what now?" he questioned, raising his head to look at her.

"She smacks my ass when I do downward dog, and then she laughs," she said, struggling to hide her amusement. "She saw you do it once, and now she copies you."

Grinning, Rick laid his head back down, fondly recalling the day he had walked past Carrie on her yoga mat and couldn't resist giving her ass a little tap. "Don't blame me. You're the one always pinching _my_ ass."

"Sometimes it needs to be pinched."

Feeling that the brief moment of melancholy was over with now, Rick pressed his lips to the top of her head as he began to sit up. "Me going to the quarry without you was the plan all along," he remind her gently, seeking to provide reassurance. "I'll be home before you know it."

She delayed him from leaving, one hand around his waist compelling him to stay a moment longer. They kissed now, Carrie sensually slipping her tongue past his lips and coaxing a grunt of desire from his throat. He indulged her desire, kissing her back with equal fervour until he knew he had to leave. Time was slipping by, and he had places to be.

"That's enough," he pretended to admonish her. "Down girl."

Rolling her eyes Carrie kissed him once more, taking his lower lip between her teeth and pressing them a little harder than necessary. Her eyes were alight with mirth when she let him go, and clearly showing him what he was walking away from she stretched out on the bed, her legs parted just enough for him to catch a tantalising glimpse between them. Letting his eyes rake over her body he briefly considered staying, figuring he could go for a second round if she was up for it. Clearly she wasn't ready to get out of bed just yet. But it was time that made his decision for him, more specifically the lack thereof. He turned away and headed towards the bathroom, not letting himself look over his shoulder.

"We should probably change the bedsheets today," Carrie muttered, giving up hope of coaxing him back into bed with her.

Rick smirked with stupid pride, and now he let himself look back at her. She lay just as he had left her, one hand trailing up her stomach to caress her breast. "After what happened in them last night? Yeah, we probably should change the sheets."

She let out a beautiful laugh as he slipped into the bathroom, and even as he reminded himself that there wasn't time for it still he hoped she might join him in the shower. But just as he resigned himself to showering alone he remembered something, and so he quickly opened the bedroom door again. As he expected he caught Carrie halfway to her feet, her gaze set upon the wooden box he kept on his bureau and her expression mischievous.

"You look in there again, and you're not gettin' any of them," he threatened.

It was difficult not to smile at the sheepish look at came over her face, the way she lowered her head and tried to look ashamed of herself. Only a little mad at her for spoiling her own surprise, Rick stepped back and opened the bathroom door wider, looking at her expectantly.

"You're not going to make me shower alone, are you?"

Grinning, Carrie gave a dramatic sigh and then came over to him, brushing her hand across his hip as she entered the bathroom. "For the record, yellow gold is not my colour."

In spite of everything, he clung to this tidbit of information. "Wait, Carrie," he said stopping her for a moment. He looked at her seriously, holding her gaze. "That only rules out two of them…what one do you want?"

As expected, she was less than helpful. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

* * *

Returning from Reg's house, who had agreed to spend the coming days supervising Ron's punishment while Rick was out, Rick made his way towards home. Before he had slipped away the group down at the gates had been waiting for two people, and with one of them being Carrie he hastened home to find her. Despite reluctantly supporting her presence at the meeting with Richard that day, still he hoped that she might change her mind about coming. Something was bothering her, but he'd had little success with convincing her to stay home. But as he got closer to home his hopes faded, the sound of an argument inside telling him that Carrie definitely wouldn't be staying home today. Standing there on the pavement Rick strained his ears to listen and make out the words being said, easily recognising the voices as Carl and Carrie's. As he listened to them going at one another he closed his eyes and gave a heavy sigh, knowing this was the last thing any of them needed. They were running late already, their departure already delayed by Sasha whose many nights on watch and days at the quarry had seen her oversleeping that morning.

As he stood on the street listening to Carl and Carrie arguing, he got insight into why she too was running late. He'd be lying to say he hadn't been expecting some resistance from Carl that morning, who was unlikely to approve of Carrie going out now he knew she was pregnant, but he hadn't expected a full blown argument. Tentatively coming up the steps he kept his presence unknown so that he could listen a little more closely, seeking the finer context of the argument that ensued.

"Tara is coming to get her in twenty minutes," Carrie replied, doing her best to keep her tone calm and even. "She loves Tara."

"You're her mom. You look after her!"

"I'm going into the city," she said, apparently struggling for patience. "Carl, I-"

"We're not passing her off to someone else," Carl argued vehemently. "We're her family, _we_ look after her."

"Then it's settled. You look after her."

"That's not what I meant," Carl insisted, passing the open door as he walked from the living room into the kitchen where Carrie must be.

"I don't understand, Carl!" Carrie said angrily, losing her temper. "You told your dad this morning you'd look after her."

"That was before I knew you were going out too. I thought you were going to work in the Pantry, that's the only reason I was okay with it."

"What different does it make where I am?"

"You shouldn't be going out there! You're not supposed to be a supply runner anymore, you're her mom!"

There was a brief pause, Rick knowing that what Carl said was not without impact. Finally Carrie replied, her words carefully chosen and her tone measured. "The two roles are not mutually exclusive."

"What? What does that even mean?"

"It means that being one doesn't mean I can't be the other."

"Yes, it does. You can't go out!"

"Well I am," she stated simply. There were heavy footsteps before she appeared in Rick's line of sight, her face falling when she saw him standing there listening. Nevertheless she opened the front closet to retrieve her gun and knives from the safe.

"Then you're not her mom!" Carl yelled, following her every step of the way. "You don't deserve to be her mom."

Rick swore under his breath, seeing the very moment that hurt crossed Carrie's face. Carl was known for having a vicious tongue when he was angry, and they both knew Carrie would take it to heart. Intervening before anymore could be said, for God knew that his son could say much more worse, Rick came up the last step and entered the house. When Carl saw him coming his shoulders slumped in disdain, knowing who Rick was going to side with.

"Go to your room. Now."

Carl glared at him, not knowing when to quit. "You know I'm right," he started arguing. "She-"

"Go to your room, now," Rick repeated.

He didn't need to raise his voice to make himself heard, Carl getting the hint from his tone and body language alone. A beat passed before he turned and left, his hands clenched into fists as he stomped his way up the staircase and down the upstairs hall. Rick waited for the sound of the door slamming shut before looking around, finding Judith standing in the living room, having been watching the argument unfold. She was visibly relieved that it was over, and then without further preamble picked up her toys and resumed her game of piling them all up on the couch. Hoping it was that simple with Carrie, Rick turned around and looked at her tentatively.

Still standing at their gun safe her expression was sour, her lips pursed as if holding back a tirade of abuse she wanted to unleash on the world. Rick waited a few moments before addressing her, conscious of how upset she was. Her shoulders were tense and hunched forward, her feet squared as if ready for anything, body language that told him to approach with caution. Finally she looked up at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes narrowed in rage. What Carl had said had been hurtful, that was for sure.

"You deal with him," she said quietly, her voice wavering. "I can't."

"You have to."

At this she wrenched her gun out of the safe and jammed it into her holster, snatching three extra magazines and her knives before stowing them too. "I can't take this anymore," she hissed at him, making an effort to keep her voice low. "I can't Rick, I just can't! I'm not dealing with this!"

Again Rick stood his ground, and he stopped her as she headed for the front door. "Don't leave," he instructed, partly surprised when she actually listened. She came to a dead stop, her shoulders flexing as she drew a deep breath. "You have to deal with this… _we_ have to."

"And how do you propose to do that?" she questioned as she turned around to face him. "Are you just going to let it slide like you always do? Is that your solution?"

"Wait here."

Without another word he turned on his heel and followed his son upstairs, trusting that Carrie would be waiting down there when he was done. As he made the short walk he took a couple of deep breaths, mentally getting himself into the right headspace. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now, Carl's behaviour and unkind words just another complication in a tough day. But like Carrie said, he couldn't just let this slide once again, he couldn't continue to make excuses…it had gone on for this long because he had allowed it to.

On one hand he wanted to be sympathetic and understanding for his son. Carl was still in pain from Ron's attack the previous day, and it wasn't entirely selfish that he didn't want to look after Judith, but the way he went about saying that left a lot to be desired. Plus, he suspected there was something more at play here, the things he had said to Carrie giving Rick some previously unseen insight. Determined to resolve this here and now, he knocked on Carl's bedroom door and then opened it before receiving an invitation.

Carl sat on his bed with his arms folded across his chest, his expression one of a petulant teen sulking when they didn't get their way. He looked up at Rick with a scowl, clearly not feeling that he was going to listen to anything he tried to say. Closing the door behind himself he waited expectantly, wondering if Carl was going to start or if he should. He was glaring at the orange lava lamp on his nightstand, one Carrie brought back from her last supply run.

"This has been going on for too long to be about the baby," Rick started. "So it's about Judith?"

"What is?"

"Your behaviour. Your attitude, the way you're treating Carrie. I thought you'd come around to her being Judith's mom."

Carl gaped, apparently outraged by Rick's comment. "I have!" he protested heartily. "I have come around to it. I'm the one who taught Judy to call her Mom. I get it, okay?"

"Then what's the big deal?"

"Carrie! She's the one who doesn't get it."

Rick raised his eyebrows, surprised by this remark. Carrie had become a wonderful mother to Judith, and despite a tentative start she'd stepped into the role eagerly and wholeheartedly. "Explain it to me."

There was a long pause before Carl answered, his face still set in a scowl he directed to the wall. "Everything was fine until she went back on the run crew. Now the quarry and this group in Washington?" he complained. "She's gone as much as you are! She's supposed to be here with Judith."

Speechless, Rick looked at Carl in astonishment. That was not the answer he had been expecting, that Carl would complain that Carrie wasn't around enough. He'd been fully prepared to defend her relationship with Judith, to explain again that it was for Judith's benefit they be nothing less than mother and daughter…but Carl was fully in support of that.

"Let me get this straight. You problem is that she's not around enough?" When Carl continued glaring at the wall Rick continued. "This is why you're being such an asshole to her?"

Carl looked around at this, clearly affronted by what Rick had called him. "Did you just call me-"

"I've been gone as much as she has," he continued, pressing at him.

"That's different."

"Why?"

Carl started floundering, struggling with his own logic. "B-because she's Judy's mom," he said emphatically. "She's already lost one of them. She shouldn't have to lose another."

Rick took pause, wishing that he had seen this coming. It seemed Carl was just as invested in Carrie's relationship with Judith as they were. He wanted to make this work, for Judith to grow up with a mother. In his eyes, Carrie was putting all of that at risk. It was food for thought, particularly so now that she was pregnant. In an ideal situation she would have been able to stay in Alexandria, she wouldn't have rejoined the run crew and she wouldn't be involved in the quarry herd or Richard's group in Washington. The competing needs were a thorn in Rick's side, one that dug a little deeper today. Why had he suggested that Carrie come along to today's meeting? It made sense that she be there given the rapport she had built last time with Richard, but it wasn't absolutely necessary. In many ways, Rick supported what Carl had said to him…but he couldn't let this behaviour continue.

"Carl, you need to accept that you cannot control other people. They have autonomy, they make their own choices. Carrie's making her own choices with her family in mind, as is her right."

"She's making the wrong ones."

"That is your opinion."

Carl looked up at him now, holding his gaze. "Yours too. I know it is."

He ignored this, feeling it was too true for him to deny. "You're going to march your ass down there and apologise to her."

His objection was swift. "Why?"

"Because I told you to. And you're gonna get rid of your attitude while you're at it, otherwise you can start setting a place for it at the dinner table. Got it?"

Unimpressed, Carl simply turned away and resumed glaring at the wall.

"This is not the way you handle your problems. Now go down there and apologise." When Carl didn't respond Rick came a step closer, lowering his voice a little. "Do not make me tell you again."

There was a tense moment in which Rick was certain Carl would refuse, his defiance set to be yet another delay in him reaching the quarry that morning, but at the last second he complied. With a sour expression he slid off his bed and all but shoved his way past Rick out the door.

"You can wipe that look off your face too."

Carl's angry march slowed to stop in the middle of the hallway, the slumping of his shoulders an indication that he had listened. He stood there for a moment with his back turned, and after collecting himself he carried on. Following him down, Rick caught sight of his face as he turned at the halfway landing, satisfied to see that he appeared calm and polite. Stopping at the halfway landing himself he made a point of watching and listening to Carl's apology, somewhat satisfied by the level of contrition in his voice. He kept it short and sweet, making little effort to actually acknowledge the unkind way he had treated Carrie, but it was good enough for now. As he knew she would Carrie swiftly accepted his apology, simply wanting it to be over.

"We're leaving now," Rick said, joining them downstairs. "Like I told you before, Carrie will be home mid-afternoon, but I don't know when I'll be home. It could be tonight, it could be some time tomorrow."

Carl nodded. "Okay."

Softening, he came over and put his hand on Carl's shoulder, observing him critically. "Tara will come by soon. Maggie's at home next door," he continued, watching as Carrie entered the living room and picked Judith up, peppering her cheek with kisses. "And Carol will be around too. She's already said she'll check in on you."

"She doesn't need to, but fine."

When Carrie brought Judith over Rick kissed her on the cheek too, remembering why they had to take such risks as the one at the quarry. "I made up a bottle for her," Carrie added, her tentative tone indicating she was still unsure of where she and Carl stood. "It's in the refrigerator. Make sure Tara puts her down for her nap at ten thirty, or she sleeps too long."

"Thanks," he said, looking up at her before managing a smile. "Be safe out there."

Without further delay Carrie passed Judith over to her brother, giving her one last kiss on the cheek before farewelling her with a friendly wave. To everyone's relief Judith didn't protest like she occasionally did, and instead returned the wave and then pushed against Carl's chest until he put her down. As he passed him by Rick placed his hand on Carl's shoulder once more, wishing that he wasn't too proud to tolerate a kiss goodbye from his old man. In Rick's eyes he sometimes felt that Carl was still the young teen who used to sneak into his cell at the prison, not wanting to spend the night alone. So much had happened since those days, and it wasn't often that Carl tolerated affection that he felt too old for.

As they walked up the street he and Carrie slipped their hands into one another's, their footsteps already in sync.

* * *

Grateful that it wasn't too hot today, Carrie patiently sat on the hood of the Hyundai and looked out across the quarry, simply glad to be out of the car. The trip from Alexandria saw them piling twelve people into a five seater car, a necessity often enforced in order to conserve precious resources like gas. So with five piled into the open trunk, four in the back seat, two in the front plus the driver, they made the thirty minute journey to the quarry.

Carrie had kept her complaints to a minimum, feeling that the front passenger seat with Annie on her lap wasn't quite as uncomfortable as those in the back. While Daryl, Heath, Glenn, David and Sturgess squeezed into the trunk, their limbs uncomfortably entwined, Lana, Carter, Tobin and Sasha forced themselves into the rear seats. It gave Carrie a sick sense of satisfaction to see the revulsion on Lana's face thanks to Daryl, who with limited space had no choice but to drape his boots over the back of the rear seats. The combination of mud, horse manure and Walker guts had been inches away from her face, though in time it was a burden felt by all of them in the car, even with the windows lowered.

She'd never been so glad to make it to the quarry, and keeping in mind how kind Lana had been yesterday afternoon she didn't openly laugh when she scrambled to get out of the car. That aside, it was rather satisfying to see her cheeks flushed pink and her perfect hair looking rather astray. In minutes she had restored her appearance to the effortless beauty she normally exuded, but Carrie chose to remember her in disarray.

A quiet request made by Rick was all it took for Carrie to stay back, to take a seat on the hood of the car and stay there. While she still felt perfectly capable of handling herself and contributing, there were of course compromises to be made. Sitting back helped put Rick at ease, it gave him one less thing to worry about while allowing him to focus on the task at hand. Besides, her task today did not involve the quarry. This was just a brief stop on their way into Washington, which was where the reason for her company would come into play. If they too turned up, they would be working on the relationship with Richard and his group. Alexandria had no intention of involving them in the quarry evacuation, not that Richard needed to know that. Nevertheless there was an opportunity here, and having Carrie there while she was still capable of going outside the walls was necessary. She was the one who brokered the agreement with Richard, she ought to be there again that day. With that in mind she knew she needed to prepare Richard for the idea that she soon she might not be at their future trade meetings, that after a while negotiations would be made directly with Rick.

Trying not to worry too much, Carrie took a sip of her water and looked around for Rick, worried about him. Things happened so quickly and she wanted him to be safe, just as he wanted the same for her. He was hundreds of yards away on the other side of the quarry, standing on the roof of a parked car as he surveyed the area. Abraham stood on the car's hood, pointing out various aspects of the truck that was held steady by chains and a tractor. A whole group were over there, scrutinising the truck's stability from as many angles as possible, prepared for the possibility that it might fall some more. Raising her binoculars for a better look, Carrie's worry only increased when she saw some rocks and debris tumbling, the ground still slowly eroding before their very eyes.

It was selfish, but she wished Rick wasn't the leader, that he didn't have a responsibility to Alexandria. She had meant it that morning when she asked him not to go to the quarry, she genuinely wanted him to leave the others a man short so he could stay at home with her. Was that so horrible to want? Was it unjustified to want their family united, the father of her unborn baby safe at home with them? Dwelling on all of this, she sighed as she thought back to the brief conversation the two of them had as they prepared to leave Alexandria. Finally he had addressed Carl's attitude towards her, compelling him to make amends and reconsider his behaviour. It was a relief to hear his apology, and she had thanked him for it without thinking. She just wanted things to get better between them, to go back to the way they used to be in the early days following his injury. Hopefully they could have more evenings together like the one last night, the two of them curled up on the couch together watching television.

Before they left Rick had told her the root of the problem, explaining that Carl wanted her to be around more, not that it made any sense to her. It was illogical that someone who wanted her company would treat her so badly, that they would be so normal and pleasant before becoming cold and dismissive without warning.

"It doesn't make any sense," she had muttered, she and Rick walking hand in hand towards the gate.

"Actually, it makes perfect sense," Rick assured her. "You're riddled with guilt and you don't know what you've done wrong. It's exactly what he wants. Judith does this too, just differently."

Carrie quirked her eyebrows, skeptical that he managed to draw that parallel. "You're going to have to explain that to me."

"It's why Judith cries when we take her to Carol or Deanna's house," he answered simply. "She wants us to stay, so she cries and pleads for you. Carl wants you to stay too, but being an asshole is the only way he knows how to say it."

"Really? So being a jerk and making me dread every interaction is him telling me he wants me to stick around?"

Rick hesitated for a moment, he too struggling with the logic. "I never said it was smart, but yes. That's what he's doing."

"Why can't he just say it?" she questioned, disappointed that something so simply had escalated for so long. Down by the gates the rest of their group lingered, Sasha rushing to join them with her eye mask still hanging around her neck. "I know things are going to change soon because of the baby. I'm Judith's mom, but I've still got responsibilities. I can't be around all the time."

"That's what he's struggling with, I think," Rick pondered, raising his hand to Daryl and requesting they wait a few moments. "The only mother he's known is Lori, and she was a stay at home mom. She was there whenever he needed her, and that's what he wants for Judith. But whether or not that's the life we can provide for her is between you and I, not him."

She looked back over at Rick again, glad to see that he was climbing down from the roof of the car. He and Abraham lingered a little longer before setting off, catching up to the others who were already making their way back up the road towards the quarry entrance. Watching Abraham returning too Carrie wondered if he would join them again for the meeting, or if he would stay here at the quarry a little longer. He was one of the many who now spent most of their waking minutes at the quarry, but unlike the others who came home to Alexandria and returned in shifts, Abraham had been there since before the storm. Camped out in the back of the run van, he had a semi-comfortable set up and had been content to stay. Secretly, Carrie wondered if he was avoiding returning to Alexandria for a reason. She'd heard that there had been tension between he and Rosita lately, but as mere gossip she hadn't put any value to what she heard.

Detecting a familiar and unwelcome aroma, Carrie turned to her left where Daryl stood smoking, unfortunate to find herself downwind of him. The smell of tobacco didn't usually bother her, having occasionally noticed it one Rick's shirts, but lately she felt a little more particular about these things. Normally a considerate smoker she knew Daryl would have felt bad had he realised that the smoke was wafting over to her, and so she didn't say anything. Instead she slid off the hood of the car and then sought refuge from the hot weather inside the driver's seat. The shade made it somewhat cooler in here, and she reclined the seat back just enough to get properly comfortable.

The jeans she wore were uncomfortably tight at the moment, but the tough denim was a necessity when departing the safety of home. With the privacy afforded by being inside the car Carrie readjusted the waist band, pushing it lower on her belly to where it was more comfortable. Confident that no one could see, she kept her hand underneath her loose shirt for a moment, enjoying the shape of her body. It was a relief to now feel giddy with excitement for her pregnancy rather than dreadful anxiety, and though she wasn't yet ready to tell their friends and family she was looking forward to it. She stood by what she had said the other day, that they needed to wait until the fuss of the quarry and the group in Washington was over. The news of her pregnancy was going to garner excitement and attention, and she wanted to make sure that didn't detract from the attention Carl's health needed.

Her thoughts meandering back to him, she smiled to herself as she thought about the night the storm passed over Alexandria, how nice his company was. She was glad he had heeded her request to stay, and she longed for them to resume that aspect of their relationship. He wasn't just Rick's son, he wasn't someone she felt obligated to spend time with, she genuinely liked Carl when he wasn't being a jerk to her. The other night she had enjoyed talking to him, enamoured by the small sense of excitement he had when they discussed choosing baby names. It didn't feel like he was putting on a facade for her benefit, she'd felt a genuine connection to him that she hadn't felt for a while now. Hopefully Rick pulling him back into line today was enough to set things straight.

Still dwelling on things at home she allowed her spirits to lift as she thought about what she had done that morning, the way she had snooped at what was inside the box Carl had made Rick for Father's Day. She wasn't normally like that, conscious that privacy was something not always afforded to them anymore, and so she had never looked at what he kept inside there. But the other day she had been looking for a pacifier, and recalled him tossing one inside when he lazily tidied up…it was then she found the engagement rings. When she first made the discovery she stared at them in disbelief before quickly closing the lid, for even though Rick was out for the day she feared being caught. But in the days that followed her mind kept going back there, picturing the six rings in her mind's eye, trying to remember what they looked like.

Her curiosity got the better of her that morning, and lulled into a false sense of security by Rick's soft snores she crept out of bed and looked. She had set them out onto the bureau and looked at them one by one, immediately ruling out the yellow gold rings and then considering her preferences. Remaining were two diamond rings, an emerald and a sapphire, and at her leisure she had tried each of them one her fourth finger, her heart pounding in giddy excitement. She recalled the engagement ring Logan had given her, the eight carat diamond she wore only on special occasions for fear of being mugged for it. Rick had selected one not too dissimilar, possibly thinking that the size of the diamond would matter to her. But it wasn't to her taste, and so she tried on the others a couple more times, studying them and reminded herself to come back when she could look at them in the daylight. She wondered how she might let her preference be known without telling him she had snooped, if she could somehow slip sapphires into everyday conversation.

In the end she didn't get more than a few moments to look, and she was grateful that he didn't seem genuinely mad that she had invaded his privacy, only a little exasperated. As if nothing at all had happened she had rejoined him in bed, the topic changing and the both of them setting aside what she had discovered. But hours later and Carrie was still thinking about what she had seen, and not just the rings either. Inside that box Rick also had a photograph of Lori, kept at the bottom of the box in the safety of a ziplock bag that protected it from damage. It didn't bother her that he kept photographs of his late wife, that her photograph was on his nightstand facing Judith's crib, nor that their wedding album was kept in the living room. He kept these things for his children, so that Lori's image would never fade from Carl's memory and so that Judith would know what her mother looked like…and maybe he kept them for himself too, so that he also could remember. These things didn't bother Carrie, even if she had to remind herself of that every now and then. How insecure did it make her to feel threatened by a dead woman, even if it was only fleeting?

Having been deep in thought Carrie was slow to detect the change in atmosphere, to notice the flurry of activity going on outside the safety of the car. The instant she did her body reacted, adrenaline surging as she looked around for whatever threat had caused the disturbance in her surrounds. When she saw the immediate vicinity was safe she stepped out of the car, but the bottom dropped from her stomach as she followed the direction in which the others were heading. In horror she watched as the truck on the lower exit of the quarry slowly tumbled over the edge, the tractor that had held it in place for days now being dragged after it. Giant plumes of dust rose into the air, the group returning from that area now breaking into a run towards them, shouting and waving their hands to get their attention. But while the others around her scurried to find the flares and start distributing them Carrie dove for the binoculars she had left on the hood of the car. She brought them to her eyes with a low cry, horrified to see what Rick was doing.

Inexplicably, while everyone else in that group were rushing back to the entrance, Rick and Abraham were running in the opposite direction, towards the now open road where Walkers were beginning to stream through.

* * *

A/N At lot happened in this chapter, and I really hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading, and please do leave a review.


	14. Chapter 14

Standing on the roof of a car, Rick surveyed the gargantuan rock quarry before him, trying not to breathe in too deeply. The air tasted of decay and dirt, small plumes of dust rising into the air from the crumbling walls. He could feel the dust and smell settling into his clothing and skin, seeping into his very pores. It was no wonder they showered twice a day where possible. The situation here was becoming increasingly dire, for although the falling truck had been stabilised for over a day now its safety left a lot to be desired. Already the ground beneath it as crumbling before their eyes, rocks and debris falling to the quarry below and knocking Walkers over like dominos. As amusing as it might be to watch, this having been the only form of entertainment for those on perpetual watch here, it was worrisome too.

"This afternoon then," Rick said, looking down at Abraham for confirmation.

Standing on the hood of the car below him, Abraham took a moment to reply, still weighing up the options. "We're ready to go if we have to. The car is fully gassed, radios charged and flares numbered. Or we can still block this entrance off," he suggested, pointing out various aspects. "The RV just right. We back that up against the truck here with a gap about a yard wide, then we fill that up too. Some sand bags underneath, and we can sit on our thumb up our asses for another couple of days."

At this a Walker broke through the small gap between trucks, Michonne coming forward and taking it down. Like the others it fell where it stood, but she swiftly holstered her katana and then dragged the corpse out of the way. They needed the area to be clear, not wanting any obstacles that could get in their way when things went down. Nearby Sonja, Vetor and Glenn were doing the same, keeping watch for Walkers and taking them down before they got close. Still standing on the roof of the car Rick continued surveying the area, taking in all of the options.

"I'd prefer to get this done sooner rather than later," he decided, preferring to stick by his original thoughts. "It's dragged on for three weeks now. People are tired and scared. Richard doesn't have to know we did this without them."

"I second that," Abraham nodded, as did a couple of the others nearby.

Despite having reached his conviction, Rick still had unanswered questions. "Why do you think he wanted us to send it north?"

Abraham tilted his head thoughtfully, though they had already talked about this at great length. "Could be some unfriendly types up that way. Might be after us to do their dirty work for them."

"We wanna get involved in that?" Glenn questioned, looking up at Rick.

Rick paused, knowing his decisions had been particularly conservative lately. These days he erred on the side of caution, wanting things to remain quiet and peaceful. "No," he shook his head. "We don't need to go sticking our nose where it doesn't belong."

For a few moments more he stood there on top of the car, looking around and then casting his eyes upward to where the rest of the group where waiting at the top of the quarry. He couldn't see clearly from this far away, but he had left Carrie sitting on the hood of the car waiting for them to finish up. She was there to go with them into Washington, to do what she was good at by building rapport with Richard. It was a strategic move, particularly given Richard still seemed apologetic for their very first encounter. Bringing her was the right move, though he wished it could have been someone else.

"I don't want to risk moving the RV," he decided, knowing the practicalities would be too great. "We'd have to replace it at Redding road, and it would take at least three others to hold up the wall there."

"You want to blow this then?" Abraham clarified, jumping down from the hood as Rick followed.

"I think so," he nodded, looking around at the others there. "If everyone else is in agreement."

Receiving a general consensus of nodded heads, Rick was glad to make the final call. "Aright, we do this today."

"Just as well we've got some time before you blow this bitch open. I need to make a deposit behind a tree," Abraham muttered, glancing at his watch.

"Better make it a large tree," Glenn teased, he and Michonne starting to head off back up the road to where the others were waiting.

"Sonja and I will continue to keep watch here," Vetor said in his smooth Portuguese accent. "We'll make sure the truck doesn't start slipping like this morning."

Thanking them, Rick and Abraham too started to leave, grateful to be heading for higher ground where the air was a little less putrid. As he came closer he observed each volunteer who was there that day, knowing that there had once been a time when he didn't think something like this would have been possible. Alexandria had come a hell of a long way, particularly when he recalled that upon his arrival none of the residents were armed and few were adequately trained. These days everyone knew how to use a gun safely and competently, even the children, and very many people were permitted to carry their weapons. More than that however, the Alexandrian's were capable of taking care of themselves, they had control over their own safety. Everyone knew the way to a safe house, and many of them had stepped out of their comfort zones to go on supply runs or help on major projects like this one. Looking at Carter from behind, Rick had to credit him as perhaps the greatest success of all. Not so long ago Carter had held him at gunpoint, resolute in killing him to protect others.

"When we finish up in Washington, I'm going to have Carrie drop us here and then go home."

Abraham nodded. "We need more people?"

"No, she's going home to stay. She's sitting this one out."

There was a long pause, Rick silently urging Abraham to not ask any questions. To his relief Abraham accepted this on face value, though he had to be wondering. This was the first anyone else had heard about Carrie being uninvolved in the operation itself, for with the exception of yesterday's dry run which they had both missed, she had been thoroughly involved. He knew her absence today was going to raise some questions, but they just had to get through this. Once it was all over they could answer the questions, they could tell their friends and family the happy news.

As he pictured the moment they would tell their family and friends, he felt a change in the atmosphere. Without warning something began to feel off, and as he too sensed it Abraham looked around at him. Together they slowed to a stop and cast their eyes around. A hundred yards behind them a heavy plume of dust was rising into the air, Rick and Abraham venturing closer to the edge of the road so they could properly see. For a few moments there was nothing but the usual sound of the herd below, Rick starting to feel foolish for what had to be an overreaction, and then it started.

"Rick! It's falling!" Glenn yelled, already halfway to the top. "The truck!"

The earth began to rumble beneath their feet, the ground beneath the truck crumbling and dragging the rear down with it. It started gracefully, the trailer tilting just a little at first, and then a larger section of the ground crumbled, and from there the situation escalated. The tractor holding the truck in place stood no chance of being effective anymore, the weight of the load dragging it across the ground towards the edge.

"Go!" he shouted to Michonne and Glenn, waving wildly at them. "Get to the top! We're doing this now!"

But while Michonne and Glenn raced for the top of the quarry, Rick and Abraham forced themselves to go in the opposite direction, neither of them needing to discuss it. In the midst of the dust they caught another glimpse of the tractor sliding across the road, hearing the gut wrenching clang of metal on metal as it hit the car Rick had minutes before been standing atop of. Inside of the car had been Sonja and Vetor, where they had settled in to continue taking watch for the time being, as taken by surprise as everyone else had been. They caught a quick glimpse of the car as it spun around as the tractor hit the rear, and then the cloud of dust grew and entombed the small sedan. Without hesitation Rick and Abraham ran straight in, immediately finding themselves blinded, coughing as the dust and decay filled his mouth and throat.

"Vetor!" he called out, quickly becoming disoriented. He could hear the Walkers coming, the sound of their excited snarls becoming closer and closer. "Sonja! Where are you? Vetor!"

The sound of a car door slamming could be heard just before Rick ran straight into its trunk, the tow bar catching his leg and sending him to the ground. There was a moment of horrifying panic as he scrambled back to his feet, his hands brushing over his holstered weapons to ensure he hadn't dropped anything, and then the first shadow of a Walker appeared beside him. He shoved the rotting corpse away and then backed up, trailing his hand over the car's trunk to keep track of his location. Were they in there? He was calling their names, but they didn't respond.

"Rick!" Abraham called, his voice booming over the sound of the Walkers. "Let's go!"

Knowing when to back off Rick complied, turning around and retreating in a straight line. Fearing that he too would go over the cliff he resisted the instinct to run, reminding himself he didn't need to get to far ahead of the Walkers to find safety, just far enough. As he followed the sound of Abraham calling out his name he felt the ground tremble again, an almighty crash telling him that the semi-truck had made it to the bottom of the quarry. Barely a moment later there was another, the sound of steel on steel indicating the tractor too was gone.

"Did you see them?" he called out to Abraham, the dust clearing just enough for him to see his silhouette ahead of him. "Vetor and Sonja?"

"I think one of them got into the car, I don't know which," he answered, panting for breath as he ushered for Rick to follow him. "What a kick in the dick."

Rick coughed, spitting out the taste of dirt before they broke into a run together. "That's what we get for making plans."

As he said this he glanced over his shoulder, looking for someone else to appear out of the dust. Thirty seconds in, and two of their people were unaccounted for already. The dust had cleared even more this far up, and as if a veil was lifted he looked to the mouth of the quarry where the rest of the group ought to be. He saw Carrie standing on the hood of the car, no doubt with binoculars in her hands as she desperately looked for him, and when she saw him she climbed down. To his relief everyone appeared to be leaping into action, taking the sudden change of plans in their stride…except one.

Lana was sprinting down the sloping road, her long blonde hair a wild mess that flocked behind her. Her face was alight with panic, and she was screaming at them indiscriminately as they closed in on one another. Though he was sympathetic, Rick braced himself to throw her into gear, to forcibly get her head in the game. There was no time for panic, no time to scream and cry for what might have just happened.

"Did you see them?" she cried out, her eyes pleading with him. "Rick tell me you saw them!"

"We have to go," he said firmly, trying to intercept her.

"No, we can't!"

Without thinking she tried to go sprinting past him, the terror in her eyes telling Rick she was about to run straight into her death. Abraham lunged for her as did he, Rick catching her by the arm to try and stop her. "Lana, no!"

"I have to get him!" she screamed, wrenching her arm so forcibly she made him stumble. "Let me go, I have to-"

"They're fine!" he yelled back at her, still clutching her upper arm.

"You're lying, I know you are."

Rick looked to Abraham now, imploring him to step in. He did so immediately, taking Lana by the other arm and wrenching her forward, away from the people she couldn't help. "They're in the car," he told her, not telling the whole truth. "Both of them. They'll wait it out."

"No," she moaned, literally digging her feet in as tears started streaming down her face. "Let me help him, please. I can-"

"We need you," Rick shouted, keeping her moving. "They'll wait it out, but we need you now. Get your head on straight."

Lana let out a low cry, shuddering as the horror of what might happen to the people she loved started to dawn on her. But to her credit she stopped fighting them, putting one foot in front of the other until Rick and Abraham were confident to let go of her. The three of them broke into a run and sprinted back to the top of the quarry, getting there and immediately assessing what was going on.

"Did someone start the timer?" he called out indiscriminately. "Are we timing?"

"Yes," Carter answered, rushing forward and gesturing to the people around them. "We've got less than three and a half minutes left. We're already in position."

Following Carter's gestures Rick looked around at their people, glad to see that he was right. So far everyone was where they needed to be, having done this dry run three times by now. Tobin was climbing into the cabin of the truck they were going to move, while Glenn had dispersed the flares among his team and rallied them into position, each of them ready to fire. Rick looked back down the road he had just come up, watching as the herd of Walkers emerged from the dust and started making their way up to them. They had timed this before, getting their sequence down to a fine art. It would take a meandering Walker ten minutes to get up that hill, but a Walker seeking prey would make it in four.

"Three minutes!" Carter hollered.

"Three minutes flares!" Glenn responded, looking at each person holding a flare gun. "Three minute flares, now!"

The first flare was fired high into the air, the red trail of light soaring and capturing the attention of the herd below. Perfectly coordinated, a second flare was fired ten seconds later and soon to be followed by the third, the sound and movement riling up any Walkers who had not yet noticed the commotion. They needed to get them all excited, to get as many of them riled up and ready to break out of the second exit. Keeping their attention and in close formation was going to be the key to getting as many of them out of the quarry as possible. The last thing they wanted was stragglers hanging about.

As Carter called out the two and a half minute warning, Rick brushed himself off as he hastened towards Carrie. He regretted how things had turned out, but she was here now and there was little he could do about it - he just had to keep her safe until he could get her home. Not to his surprise she had also sprung into action, carrying out the duty that had been delegated to her weeks ago. She and Annie were a few yards from the edge of the quarry, carrying emergency lights that were hooked up to car batteries. The moment the lights came on red and blue appeared all around, helping to rile up the Walkers even more. It was working, for already the thousands of decaying corpses had become more active, some of them looking around for the source of the stimulus. =

"Carrie," he called out to her, getting her attention.

She turned around and looked, her shoulders visibly slumping with relief upon seeing him. Abandoning her task for a moment she rushed to her feet and came to him, letting him engulf her in his arms.

"What were you thinking doing that?" she moaned, pulling back and looking at him. "I-I thought you were never going to come out of that dust."

Tactfully he chose not to tell her the finer details, not feeling that his disorientation and fall would comfort her. "I'm alright," he assured her, putting his hand on her shoulder and holding her gaze. "I need you to get out of here."

"Two minutes!" Carter yelled.

"Two minute flares," called out Glenn, setting off the next sequence. "Go! Two minute flares!"

Carrie looked at him in abject horror, and then she seemed to calm. "Rick, I'm here now. Let me-"

"No, absolutely not," he insisted. Over her shoulder he watched as Annie set up a third set of flashing lights, glad to see she was also keeping an adequate look out. "You-"

"I'm here now," she insisted. "I can help."

"No!" he shouted at her, not caring to be polite about it either. "This was never our agreement!"

"But-"

"You're going home, now," he insisted, already steering her towards the car.

"I can't. There's only one car now, Abraham and Sasha will need it."

"They'll take the run van."

"It's got no gas," she hastened to explain, grabbing him by the shirt and stopping him in his tracks. "I've already been through this with Sasha. Abe's been camping out in the van for days, there's no gas in it!"

"One and a half minutes!"

His panic coming back to him, Rick looked over his shoulder towards the herd. Even though it was exactly where he expected it to be, it felt like it was closing in impossibly quickly. He looked towards the two semi-trucks closest, one engine running while Tobin sat in the driver's seat ready to floor it. They were running out of time, this was about to happen and there was no stopping it…but he couldn't let Carrie be involved. He loved her, he wanted her safe…she was pregnant with his child.

"You'll go with Abraham and Sasha," he told her calmly, knowing she would respond better to that than him shouting at her. "Ride with them for a while, and I'll figure something out. Carrie?"

Though she had listened to him she seemed torn, and she panted for breath as she looked around, searching for an alternative that would satisfy them both, but her to a higher degree.

"Carrie, you being here was never our agreement. Please."

Finding no other solution she finally nodded her head in agreement, but she looked pretty unhappy about it. "I'm finishing up with Annie," she insisted, squeezing his hand before pushing it off her shoulder. "We'll need to get these lights back into the car before we leave."

"One minute!"

Understanding the importance of that, for they might be needed when they were out on the roads, Rick agreed, both of them having reached mutual compromises. Helping, he hastily disconnected one of the lights from the car battery and picked it up, Carrie and Annie doing the same now they had finished with them.

"Last flares!" Glenn yelled out for a final time, his voice growing hoarse. "Fire your last flares and then fall back!"

"Come on," he said, ushering both she and Annie back to where everyone else was congregating in one group, about to receive a last minute pep talk with Abraham. Going to the Hyundai's open trunk they tossed the lights and batteries in, and joined the others.

"Get your testicles and chesticles out of your back pocket, and firmly strapped on!" Abraham instructed, his voice carrying across the area with ease. "We do not need to deviate from the plan, we are doing this. Same drill as yesterday, just without the time to take a shit!

There was a murmur of assent, the congregated group looking prepared and ready for what they were facing. Looking at each of them individually Rick felt confident that everything would go according to plan. Even Nicholas who was practically joined to Glenn at the hip seemed confident, prepared to repeat what they had done on the dry runs.

"Remember, when we've got this herd on the road we need to spread out like cops at a parade," Rick began, conscious to emphasise the importance of this. "Stay in pairs, but spread out. If we don't keep these Walkers tight on the road then the people behind you are going to walk straight through the stragglers you let loose. Keep them on the road or we're going to lose people."

"Thirty seconds," Carter said loudly, his growing nerves echoed by the sound of Tobin revving the engine in the truck.

Rick turned and raised his hand at Tobin, telling him to hold steady. He glanced at the incoming Walkers, glad to see that although it felt like this was happening very quickly, they were exactly where they expected them to be. They had time to spare, they could handle this.

"Alright let's do this. Everyone fall back and get into positions," Rick instructed, ushering everyone to move. "Go!"

He watched as everyone started to fall back to either side of the woods, his eyes naturally falling upon people like Michonne and Glenn, people he couldn't stand to lose today. Knowing what the other was thinking they spared one another quick nods, taking the moment to offer reassurance. Rick stayed where he was, making eye contact with Tobin and keeping his hand up to hold him steady. He looked around to see Daryl getting on his motorcycle and then to Sasha and Abraham, quickly relaying the change of plans that involved Carrie. There wasn't time for them to ask questions for which he was glad - if they had he would have blurted the truth without even thinking. If they had to know, they had to know.

As Merle's old motorcycle roared to life Sasha took the driver's seat of the Hyundai, and Rick glanced at the incoming Walkers again. He spared a thought for Vetor and Sonja, hoping that they were safely laying low in the car further down. "Carrie, Annie! Come on!"

At these instructions Carrie broke the news to Annie that she wasn't going. Annie frowned, her confusion particularly strong given Abraham had just told them no plans were changing. But she quickly took it on board, and when she saw Rick waving her over she fell back and joined him, knowing better than to run off into the woods without back up. As he felt his blood pressure rising he shouted at Carrie, imploring her to hurry and get into the car.

"Annie, back up this way," he said, ushering her to follow as Sasha started pulling away to avoid a stray Walker that emerged from the woods.

Following on foot, Carrie waited until Sasha came to another stop, and then without further delay slipped into the back seat and slammed the door shut. The time was now, the first part of the herd having almost reached the upper part of the quarry. Rick turned back to Tobin and swung his hand down, catching the look of relief on the man's face. He immediately floored the engine and brought the semi-truck roaring forward, releasing the next stream of Walkers. They spilled out between the trucks in a tidal wave, and as Rick and Annie followed the car they lingered to keep watch of the truck. Moving it clear away Tobin let it roll to a stop before securing the handbrake. He scrambled out of the cabin and all but fell to the ground in his haste, but when he caught up to them his face was alight with exhilaration. In disbelieve looked back at the two streams of Walkers that quickly flocked together, eagerly pursuing them.

"All going to plan?" Tobin panted, running his hand through his thinning hair. "Everything's alright?"

Looking over his shoulder, Rick breathed a sigh of relief when he looked at the car again, reassured that Carrie was definitely inside. She was safe for now, and so he turned back to Tobin feeling quietly confident.

"Everything's fine…we've got this."

* * *

In the back seat of the car, Carrie sat quietly with her hands in her lap, resigned to the position she found herself in. There was no meeting in Washington, they were an hour into the quarry evacuation…and she was being completely useless. It was a frustrating position to be in, for though she had come to accept that she wouldn't be a part of the events that day, she hadn't expected to be watching it unfold without doing a thing. She was in the thick of it, yet she was also sidelined, right there alongside her people but unable to contribute, to help them. Abraham and Sasha had been too polite to ask why she was with them, why she was suddenly so special that she needed protection. She was ashamed of what her own people might think of her, that they might think she was lazy or too good to risk her life…if there was ever a time to play the pregnancy card, it was today.

"Ladies I do apologise, but I am going to drop another bombshell on you both."

Groaning, Carrie shuffled over to the opposite side of the car and lowered the window, glad for the fresh air she found upon sticking her face out. They'd been at this for almost an hour now, and this was the third time that Abraham had farted, the rotten smell almost as bad as the stench from the Walkers. He laughed wickedly, completely unapologetic.

"Abraham," Sasha sighed impatiently, driving with her head as far out the window as she could get it. "What does Rosita see in you?"

As she brought her head back inside the car, Carrie caught a surprising glimpse of hurt on Abraham's face, but he quickly covered it up. "I'll have you know I'm a man of romance."

Sasha looked around at him, astonished. "I've known you for months now, lived with you for six. The most romantic thing I've seen you do for Rosita is smack her ass when she walks by."

"She likes it."

"No," Carrie rebuked him. "She really doesn't."

"You pipe down back there," he said, turning around to look at her. "That fart is what you get for teaching her to speak French. I can't understand half the shit she yells at me now."

Though she appreciated Abraham's humour in difficult times, as inappropriate as it usually was, today Carrie felt less receptive. She was glad when the car fell back into silence again, and with the smell of the fart dissipating she resumed her place in the centre seat. From here she could look back at the herd of Walkers, able to watch as they relentlessly pursued them. She hated not knowing what was going on elsewhere, wishing that Rick and the others would give more frequent updates than they were. All she knew was that the quarry was now empty, and that the herd itself stretched for at least a mile at their best estimate.

Hearing the sound of the engine, she looked into the woods to see Daryl slowly making his way through the trees, rounding up the Walkers who were getting distracted and steering them back to the road. Abraham had been jumping out to do the same on foot, yelling and whooping at the top of his lungs and generally having a good time. Carrie wished she could do the same, that she could get out of the car and actually do something to contribute, but she did as Rick had asked. He was right, her involvement today was not their agreement, and it was more than her own life at risk.

Hearing the sound of Daryl's bike coming closer she looked around for him again, but when she saw him her eyes widened in surprise. He was emerging from the woods and back onto the road, and seated behind him was Lana. Carrie's heart skipped a beat for a moment, wondering if she was hurt, but a closer look indicated that Lana was fine. Daryl brought the bike to a stop a little way up the road and held it steady while Lana dismounted, the two of them lingering to speak for a moment. An instant later Daryl had started off again and doubled back to continue rounding up the Walkers, whereas Lana jogged to meet the approaching car.

Carrie leant over and opened the rear door for her, making room by shuffling to the other side just as Lana collapsed onto the back passenger seat. Their enquiries fell onto deaf ears as she lay there and panted for breath, her chest heaving as she gratefully took a bottle of water offered to her. She breathed heavily as she quenched her thirst, wiping some sweat off her forehead before she sat up properly. Sweating profusely her perfect blonde hair was a mess around her face, the long locks sticking to her neck and shoulders.

"Farken' hell," she cursed, lowering the window. "What's that smell? Doesn't smell like the dead."

"That's Abraham," Carrie answered shortly. "What's wrong? What you doing here?"

"I'm bustin' you out," she said breathlessly, taking another sip of water before handing it back to those in front. "Taking you somewhere safe."

"Excuse me?"

"Rick asked me to," Lana explained simply. "Asked me to go with you to a safe house."

Carrie raised her eyebrows at this, though she should have expected him to do this. He had after all said that he would figure something out. Apparently even sitting in the safety of a car was not good enough, he had to get her far away from here. She glanced into the front of the car, glad that once again Abraham and Sasha were not questioning the urgency of her seeking safety.

"What safe house does he want me to go to?"

"Number three," Lana answered. "The new number three, not the old one. He said stay in the car until we reach Duke road, and then take that. You know how to get there from Duke, right?"

"Yeah," she nodded, though with reluctance. She looked at Lana in curiosity, surprised that she was the one he had sent. Why not Michonne or Glenn? "Are the others alright? Michonne and Glenn?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't they come?" she asked, not caring if it was rude.

Lana quirked her eyebrow, noticing Carrie's reluctance. "Because he asked me."

"Why did he ask you and not them?"

"Oh, because, umm…I don't know," she said sarcastically, sounding offended now. "You know I just ran a mile through the woods, dodging Biters and leaving my people behind so that I could come and look after your unappreciative arse. A little gratitude would be nice."

Carrie turned away, not liking that Lana had called her out on her rudeness. "Sorry," she said tersely, not really meaning it. "Thank you," she added, not meaning that either.

An awkward silence fell about the car, and Carrie could see Sasha and Abraham exchanging a glance. She suspected that once they were alone she would be the topic of hot discussion.

"Well, this is highly uncomfortable," Abraham stated, taking a sip of water before tossing the bottle into the centre console. "I'm outta here."

"No, wait - ahh," Sasha sighed as he slammed the door shut, too slow to hide her sigh of exasperation.

There was no doubt that Sasha was annoyed, that she had hoped to swap places with Abraham so that maybe she could escape the awkward atmosphere. From the back seat Carrie watched as she gripped the steering wheel tightly, her jaw set in a hard line as she refocused her attention on the road ahead and the walkers behind.

"Have you heard anything about Vetor and Sonja?" Carrie asked Lana.

Lana shook her head slowly. "No."

Regardless of her feelings towards her, she hated to think they might have been hurt, that they might be anything other than perfectly fine. Those at the top of the quarry had been helpless to do anything when Vetor and Sonja became trapped down at the other entrance, the cloud of dust hiding them from actually seeing what happened to them.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, meaning it.

Looking away Lana nodded her head, her shoulders tensing as she tried to hold herself together. "Rick said that once the herd was clear of Alexandria, he's going back to look for them. He promised me. Said if I got you to a safe house, he'd go back for them."

That wasn't what Carrie wanted to hear, the news that Rick was going back to the quarry filling her with trepidation, but there was nothing she could do. She could never ask him to not go to someone's aid, to not try and help them if he could, especially if he'd made a promise that he would. It was his nature to go back and do everything he could, and it was her nature too, which was why she knew she couldn't ask him not to. In his position she would be doing exactly the same thing.

"Everyone back there is okay?" she asked again, having not heard much news recently.

Lana didn't answer for a very long moment, her face still turned away. "Carter's dead," she said heavily. "It happened just before Rick asked me to get you."

Carrie felt jolted, feeling her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach. She looked at Lana in disbelief before turning away, another heavy silence falling over the car. Feeling her hands starting to tremble she clenched them together into her lap, her lip trembling next. Carter was dead? It couldn't be that simple…Carter had come so far in such a short period of time. What had started out as resistance against Rick slowly developed into a fierce loyalty and trust, for the day Rick showed him compassion and forgiveness after his attempt to kill him things had changed. Carter was a major reason why so many others in Alexandria had willingly participated in the training and measures Rick insisted they take. After Carl was shot Carter was the first Alexandrian to join Glenn on a supply run for medical supplies, willingly leaving his safe home to help provide for the community. He'd been on the run crew with Carrie, cracking bad jokes to pass the time and always having a story to tell.

Without warning the front passenger door opened, Abraham resuming his seat with a gleeful cheer of satisfaction. He heaved for breath, still chuckling under his breath as he turned the rear vision mirror and looked at his appearance, admiring the blood spattered across his face.

"Everything is aces again," he smirked, looking over his shoulder at the Walkers. As he turned he caught sight of Carrie and Lana, and only then did he gauge the mood of the car, though poorly. "What? I'm just grabbin' the bull by the nut sack. It's called living," he declared as he turned around again. "You ladies ought'a try it."

"Carter's dead," Sasha said softly, not needing to say any more than that.

Not to Carrie's surprise, Abraham's body language said it all. Like she he remained silent, but he sank back into his chair with what seemed to be a heavy sigh. There was nothing more to say on the matter. Grief had no place right now, not with so much at stake for the rest of them who were still alive.

Daryl passed in front of the car and then slowed down, rolling alongside Lana's side and smacking his hand against the glass. Unable to come to a dead stop he smacked his hand again and jerked his head to the right, roughly telling her to get out. As he pulled away and rode on ahead Lana got out without saying a word, slamming the door and then jogging ahead of the car to join him where he had stopped ahead of the road. With Sasha able to drive no faster than the Walkers Carrie had to sit back and watch as Lana and Daryl talked about something, Daryl repeatedly shaking his head no until they seemed to reach some kind of agreement. Daryl looked back at her in the car and raised his hand in a wave before helping Lana get onto the motorcycle, taking the seat behind him.

In seconds the two of them were gone, the engine roaring loudly as they took off down the road and disappeared completely. The sound seemed to stir up the Walkers, the dull sound of their moans and snarls increasing in volume for a few moments. Utterly confused by another change of plans Carrie watched the empty road ahead, trying to understand what was going on. If Rick had sent Lana to bring her somewhere safe then she sure as hell wasn't doing a great job. Despite her confusion she didn't speak, not wanting to be the first to break the painful silence that acknowledged Carter's loss.

It was ten minutes before Daryl returned, and this time without Lana on the seat behind him. Like earlier he brought the motorcycle into the woods and started rounding up the Walkers that had strayed in his absence, the sight of him out there breaking Abraham from his revere and reminding him to do the same. As Abraham jumped out again Carrie wrung her hands together, feeling sick with nerves. She looked at the radio in the front and awaited news from Rick, an update of some kind, even something inconsequential. All she wanted was to hear his voice, to know that he and the rest of the people she loved were alright. It was difficult to now know what was happening, to be uninvolved in the plan she had led her people in to. What if something did happen today…that morning she had felt strange when she asked him to stay back for the day, to not leave Alexandria. Had she been on to something?

She jumped in fright when Daryl smacked his hand against the back passenger window, for although she had heard the engine approaching she hadn't paid much attention. She looked around at him and was surprised to find he was jerking his head to the outside, telling her to get out just as he had done to Lana.

"Go," Sasha said. "Abe and I will be fine. Go."

Feeling like she was catching on to the plan, Carrie bode her a quick farewell before doing as Daryl asked. When Sasha stopped the car she jumped out and slammed the door shut, gladly breaking into a run so that she could meet him further down the road. For a few moments she allowed herself to feel some kind of sweet relief, often forgetting how good it was to move her body, particularly after sitting in a car for over an hour. Despite the horrible stench of the Walkers that pursued them, Carrie felt an iota of relief and happiness in the few moments it took her to reach Daryl.

"Get on," he shouted over the sound of the engine. "I'm givin' yah a ride to the safe house."

"I can walk," she shouted back, struggling to make herself heard. "It's not far."

He shook his head, refusing her suggestion.

"They need you here," she said, gesturing back to the Walkers and remembering what Rick had reminded them all. If they didn't keep the Walkers on the road, the stragglers that broke off into the woods were a risk to the people further down the line, people who would walk straight into the small clusters.

"Yah ain't goin' running through them woods on yah own," he argued insistently, gesturing to the bike. "Now get on."

She briefly considered arguing, but knew when to give in. She wasn't happy about this, annoyed that she was taking both Daryl and Lana away from the group that needed them, but arguing about it would only increase the inconvenience. It was time for her to accept the fact that her presence out here and the need to keep her safe was a burden, and she needed to minimise that by cooperating rather than resisting. Following his instructions she carefully took a seat behind him, grateful when he helped her place her feet on the footrests. He seized her hands and roughly wrapped them around his waist, loudly telling her to hang on.

As they took off Carrie was forced to close her eyes, for although she trusted Daryl the wind stung at her eyes. She opened them occasionally, doing her best to ignore them watering when she saw he wasn't taking her in the right direction. For a few minutes she tried to orient herself, but it was only when they slowed and turned down a familiar road did she realise he was taking her to a different safe house. While number three was closer on foot, safe house number four was the most logical choice should she have proper transportation.

They made their way through the streets of the quaint suburb, one whose half acre lots and nice houses made it expensive and therefore small. When they made it to the safe house Lana met them out the front, her gun drawn as her eyes scanned the area on the look out for Walkers. Setting out the kick stand Daryl let the engine idle as he helped Carrie off the back of the motorcycle, and then he followed her up the front path to where they could talk properly.

"You gon' stay here," he said to her firmly, looking her in the eye. "Just do as yah told, alright?"

Though she resented him telling her to do as she was told, Carrie nodded her head in agreement, wanting to reassure him that she would cooperate. "Please be safe," she implored him, pulling him into a hug that he had learned to accept from her.

He left without further delay, waiting only until she released him from the hug before returning to his bike. Sad in the knowledge that he was going back to rejoin the others, that so many of her friends and family were out there in such close proximity to danger, Carrie stayed where she was and watched him go. In seconds he had turned a corner and disappeared from sight, the dull roar of the engine fading into the distance. There she lingered a little longer, she and Lana awkwardly standing side by side for a couple of minutes.

"Come on," Lana finally said, gesturing to the house. "We need to get inside."

Seeing a couple of Walkers further down the road, no doubt attracted by the sound of Daryl's bike, Carrie was in agreement. She turned on the spot and followed Lana inside, glad to find that it was marginally cooler indoors. Out of habit she locked the door behind herself before reacquainting herself with the property, having not been here for some time. As she looked around she began to remember it fondly. On the premise of checking things were undisturbed she and Rick had once come here just to have sex, back in the very early days before their relationship became serious. She watched as Lana sank down onto the couch with a heavy huff, and she smirked as she recalled exactly what she had done to Rick on that very spot.

"So…" Lana began. "Just you and me. All day."

Carrie didn't respond, not trusting that what she said would be polite. Instead she dithered for a moment, standing in the threshold as if unsure of where to go. An idea had occurred to her, one that she knew would be met with a wide range of disapproval. Alexandria was just over five miles away from this particular safe house, roughly a two hour walk…but Carrie could run it in less than half that time. Before she broke her wrist on that ill fated supply run for the solar panels she, Rosita and Michonne had timed themselves, needing to plot the various travel times to and from all of their safe houses.

But that had been months ago, and she had been in far better physical condition back then. It had been a long time since she had worked out like she used to, her broken wrist and then Pete's attack having put physical exercise on the back burner. Being on the run crew required a certain level of fitness, but she was no where near where she used to be. Would she be able to make it that far in this heat, running through unfamiliar woods that she knew were populated with Walkers?

Deep in thought she glanced around at Lana, wondering if she too would be able to make it. She couldn't leave Lana behind, not after she had left her people with the herd to come to her aid. But quickly her thoughts turned to what was waiting back at home, to Carl and Judith. She felt compelled to go home to them, some kind of instinct reinforcing this idea the longer she thought about it. That morning she knew she didn't want Rick to leave his family, and Carl wasn't well today…

"I'm going back to Alexandria," she announced, heading into the living room so she could face Lana.

As expected, Lana just raised her eyebrow and stared at her. "No, you're not. You're staying here."

"I've made my decision," she said firmly, already running her hands over her gun and knives, checking the number of spare magazines she had in her pockets. "Either you come with me or you stay here," she bluffed. "That's up to you."

"No. No fucking way," Lana protested, leaping up from the couch and rushing to the door. For a moment it looked like she was about to throw herself in front of her, to physically restrain her, but thankfully she didn't. "You think I'm just going to let you leave? I told Rick I would get you here, and I did. You're staying."

"I'll be home in less than an hour."

"No," Lana insisted, raising her voice. "Rick would kill me. He'd kill us both!"

"This has nothing to do with Rick, he's not here."

Lana narrowed her eyes, and then she seemed to straighten her shoulders a little. "He told me you're pregnant."

An eruption of frustration and anger boiled up inside of her, and she barely managed to contain it. "Why?"

Lana laughed incredulously, surprised she couldn't see. "Because when he asked me to come and get you I said no. When he told me you were pregnant, I said yes."

With a heavy sigh Carrie turned away, infuriated with him for this. Not only had they agreed to wait, now he had used her pregnancy against her. She took a deep breath to get her head together, regretful for her anger…she didn't blame him for telling Lana, not really anyway. Had the positions been reversed she would have done the exact same thing, she would have gone back on her word if she thought it would protect him.

"So, you are then?" Lana questioned in interest. "You're pregnant."

"Yes."

"I knew it," she muttered, sounding smug. "I picked it weeks ago, back when you were puking your guts up on the supply runs."

"Good for you."

Detecting her tone of voice, Lana made an effort to smooth things. "Congratulations. Are you showing yet?"

Carrie took a step back, almost as if worried Lana was going to come over and inspect the shape of her body. She avoided the question, not liking where this was going. "I haven't told my friends and family," she said pointedly.

There was an awkward pause now, Lana's face falling ever so slightly. They both knew what she meant by that remark, that not only was Lana to keep this news to herself, she wasn't counted as a friend. Both had known this for some time, having gotten off on the wrong foot months ago, but it felt uncomfortable to acknowledge it in that way, even more uncomfortable to see Lana's expression fall.

"I need to go back to Alexandria," Carrie said firmly, standing her ground. "I'll be safer if you come with me, but I'm not going to force you to."

"You'll be safer if you stay here. I told Rick-"

"I don't care what you told him," she said, coming closer to her and the door. "I need to go back."

"But why?" Lana implored, sidestepping when Carrie tried to get around her. "There's no reason to. Let's just lay low here unt-"

"Carl and Judith are expecting me back this afternoon. I want to get home to them."

"Why?"

"I just need to. Carl's still not well, not after yesterday."

Lana looked at her incredulously, clearly not understanding. "Seriously? Tara is there babysitting both of them."

"Tara is not me."

"So? Come on, Carl's not even yours."

Blinking, Carrie looked at her in surprise, having not expected such a narrow minded comment from someone like Lana. "No," she said, agreeing only for the sake of her argument. "But let's not kid ourselves, Lana. Vetor's not yours either."

Her expression soured, not liking that Carrie had called her out on this. It was practically common knowledge that Lana and Vetor had been casually sleeping together for years, they'd not exactly hidden it from their group. It was also common knowledge that she wasn't the only one he was sleeping with.

"That's a bit low," Lana said softly, her voice seething with resentment. "It's none of your business either."

"It's no lower than you went," she countered. "And right back at you. My kids are none of your business."

Lana scoffed under her breath, still seething at what Carrie had said. "Fine."

"Are you coming with me or not?" she asked next, not letting the conversation falter.

"It's not a good idea."

"I'm going with or without you…but with you I'll be safer," she added, beginning to feel regretful for her unkind words. Lana hadn't come to help her because she enjoyed leaving her group one short…she ought to be more appreciative of that at least.

There was a long pause, Lana clearly unhappy with what she wanted. "How far is it?" she finally asked.

"Just over five miles."

"Five miles? How long will that take to walk?"

"Too long. That's why we're running," she answered. Remembering something important, she turned and headed into the dusty and cobwebbed kitchen, taking two of the many bottles of water that were stored there.

"You want to run five miles?" Lana exclaimed, her eyes widening in horror. "In this heat?"

Tactfully choosing not to mention that it was mostly uphill, Carrie nodded and tossed a bottle of water her way. "You can't run five miles?" Much to her amusement Lana's cheeks flushed, the first time she had ever seen her embarrassed. "You ran from the middle of the herd to catch up with the car."

"Yeah…"

"Come on," she said impatiently. "I'm not asking you to give me a piggy back ride."

Lana sighed heavily. "Farken' hell," she muttered quietly, looking at the bottle of water in her hands. "I'm not resp…When this gets back to Rick, it's on you. Got it? It's all on you."

"I can handle Rick," she said confidently, stepping past Lana and then looking out the front window.

Seeing two Walkers lingering by the front gate she drew her knife and held it at the ready, looking at Lana over her shoulder. For a moment she allowed herself to reconsider, wondering if this really was the best course of action. She could make it to Alexandria and so could Lana, she was sure of it…but something could happen to them. But even as she dwelled on this she knew her decision had been made, that her gut was telling her to get home to Carl and Judith. He'd been even moodier and confrontational than normal that morning, even to Rick…it was a sure sign that he felt like hell, that he was in pain.

"There's two out there. Can you take one?"

Though she still seemed reluctant overall, to her credit Lana nodded her head in agreement. Carrie gave her a minute to get her shit together and then ushered her to hurry up, glad when she complied. She took out her knife and followed her over to the door, taking a quick glance out the window herself.

"I'll take the right," Lana said, choosing the larger of the two.

While capable of taking out either of them, Carrie was grateful for the offer, grateful for Lana's ongoing concern despite their mutual dislike. Without another word she opened the door and let Lana through first, turning the deadbolt behind herself and slamming it closed. With the safe house secured once more she followed Lana out onto the path, veering to the smaller Walker on the left and taking it out with the swift stab of her knife. Behind her Lana did the same, the two of them pausing to rifle through the corpse's pockets before deciding there was nothing of worth.

"If you weren't pregnant, I wouldn't be going with you," Lana said, wanting to be clear on that point.

Conscious of the fact the safe houses needed to go unnoticed as having had occupants, Carrie picked up one of the corpses and dragged it over to the overgrown garden, kicking and pushing it until it rolled in and was concealed. "Don't let it stop you staying back," she said curtly, gesturing to the Walker Lana had killed.

She waited as Lana reluctantly followed the instruction, grunting in exertion as she dragged the corpse away. For a moment Carrie wondered if Lana would change her mind, if she would let her go ahead alone, but she was too proud to admit her relief when Lana came with her. Though she may slow her down, splitting up outside the walls was highly frowned upon and with good reason, and she had been bluffing when she said she would go without her. They were both safer together.

With that they departed, and being the more experienced in the areas Carrie led the way. Not wanting to become exerted too quickly she kept the pace at a manageable jog, fast enough to keep their momentum going but gentle enough to maintain. Despite her reluctance Lana kept up well, the two of them not speaking as they made their way down the roads and past the other houses in the small suburb. In no time at all they were making their way into the woods that would bring them to Alexandria, and Carrie was grateful that thanks to Daryl there were already more than halfway there. Lana was right, it sure was hot out today, and although the woods were nicely shaded the dense trees and shrubbery blocked out most of the breeze.

Twenty minutes latter Carrie slowed their pace a little, the sound of running water warning her about the steep drop they were about to encounter. She kept the pace up as they walked along the top of the river bank looking for the best place to climb down and cross. By now she felt a little disoriented, knowing that there was a bridge somewhere but unsure of their location in relation to it. When she found a shallow area in which to cross she stopped and pulled off her socks and sneakers, hastening Lana to do the same.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered under her breath as she followed suit, clearly unhappy. "I left Australia because of this shit."

"Not a fan of nature?" Carrie teased, though she used to feel the same in the early days of the outbreak.

"No, I'm not."

Stuffing her socks into her sneakers she crouched down and rolled up the hem of her jeans, annoyed with the uncomfortable way they pulled tight across her belly. When she stood up she ran her fingers around the waist band and readjusted it, trying to get it more comfortable on her figure.

"Come on," she said to Lana. Holding her sneakers in one hand she reached back for Lana's, glad she took it without protest. Hand in hand they started to cross the river, Carrie breathing heavily as she carefully watched where they were going. "Be careful. Sometimes there are Walkers in here."

Lana stopped dead in her tracks. "So we take our shoes off?" she gasped in dismay.

"You want to run with wet shoes?" Carrie countered, tugging at her hand again. "Be my guest."

As it was the river rose within inches of her knees, making her thankful it was only flowing gently that day. It made it easier to keep their balance, to cross as quickly as possible and get out of the danger. They reached the other side and hastened to a clear area where they could pause, both of them wringing out their jeans before trying to dry their feet. With no time to spare they made quick work of getting their shoes and socks on, Carrie instantly leaping back to her feet ready to continue. Lana took a little more encouragement, and Carrie could barely restrain herself from laughing as she took her by the hand and hauled her back to her feet. She remembered Rosita doing this to her once, the teasing she endured when she tried to do chin-ups.

Carrie stopped herself before she started smiling or anything, not wanting Lana to get the wrong impression. They weren't out here to enjoy themselves or bond - they needed to get home. Carl was expecting her back mid-afternoon, and instinct kept telling her to get there, to get back to him.

"I'll go up first," Lana panted, looking up at the bank they needed to scale. "I'll make sure its safe up there, and then I'll help you."

With a short nod Carrie let her go, stepping as far back towards the river as possible so she could scope the area and keep watch. There'd be a few short moments in which Lana was intensely vulnerable to whatever might be up there, the awkward moment as she reached the top and got to her feet. With this in mind Carrie was grateful to the offer, though she reminded herself Lana wouldn't have made it had she not been pregnant. She sighed at this thought, already conscious of the drama her pregnancy was causing. What other drama would this baby cause in the future? She thought about Rick and Lori living on the road while she was pregnant, living hand to mouth and barely getting by…and then Rick on the road with a baby, Lori no longer by his side. Was Carrie going to subject him to that again?

"You okay?" Carrie called out. Lana was halfway up and struggling, her arms and legs trembling from the exertion.

"Yeah," she panted, groaning as she scrambled up a few more feet and made it to the top. She spared just enough time to look around before slumping to the ground, catching her breath.

From the bottom Carrie looked up at her in both amusement and confusion. _Seriously? This is who Rick sent to help me?_ Had it been Michonne or Glenn they probably would have been home already…though they wouldn't have been so easy to bully into coming back with her.

Without waiting for anymore all clear Carrie too made her way up, first starting by tossing the two bottles of water to the upper bank. Taking a slightly different route to avoid the muddy terrain Lana had left, she dug her hands and the toes of her sneakers in and deftly climbed to the top. She didn't risk looking down. Lana was waiting for her at the top, grabbing her by the waist band of her jeans and helping her over the top.

"Can we just rest a minute?" Lana panted, her face red and her messy hair plastered all over her face.

Looking at her, Carrie felt a grim sense of satisfaction. She'd never seen Lana in such a state, never seen her overexerted and needing a break. But she didn't allow her satisfaction to linger, reminding herself that Lana was here because of her. "No," she said apologetically. "If we stop now it will only be harder to start again. Come on, we can do this."

With a heavy groan Lana pushed herself back to her feet, taking a sip of her water before nodding her head, ready to continue. Giving her an encouraging pat on the back and being sure to leave a muddy hand print, Carrie set off at another slow jog, glad that Lana quickly fell into step beside her. She was breathing heavily, and now she couldn't help but admit that she too was tired, that it had been a while since she'd needed to exert herself in this fashion. Nevertheless nothing was going to stop her getting home, constantly reminding herself that there were only about two miles left.

"Carrie, stop!"

Lana lunged for her, seizing her by the shirt and forcing her to a clumsy stop. Immediately Carrie was drawing her weapons, looking around for the source of the threat and struggling to see it. There were some Walkers around for sure, but they were easy enough to dodge just like they had been so far. But a split second later Lana was stepping in front of her, her face alight with fear as she shielded her from something in the distance.

"It's them!" she gasped, pointing. "It's one of them!"

Immediately she knew who Lana meant, that she wasn't referring to their own people having caught up to them. Stepping to the left brought the subject into her line of sight, and barely ten yards away stood a lone figure, one that was only too easy to recognise. Small but threatening, a man with a W scar on his forehead stood watching them, his filthy hair and bedraggled clothing a stark contrast to Carrie and Lana's. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, Carrie's heart sinking at the first sighting of a Wolf in months. Before Pete's attack Carl had nearly been killed by two of them, and she and Rick had killed three before that too. Lana's group also had an encounter with them before coming to Alexandria, one that proved fatal.

Without needing to think about it Carrie raised her Ruger and took aim, pulling the trigger without hesitation.

Lana gave a shout of surprise, the gunshot coming too close to her for comfort. She visibly jumped, her hands raised to her ears to relieve the discomfort before she stumbled a little. The man fell, his shoulders jerking back as his feet gave out from beneath him. In an instant he was down, and even as she trembled from the shock of what she had done Carrie was certain she had done the right thing. Taking out one of them had to be an advantage to Alexandria. Besides, Rick had once told her she would have to kill to protect his children, to protect their family. She had done it once already, and she had no qualms about doing it again.

There was a brief pause now, Carrie standing at a distance and looking at the fallen man. He was still moving, the bullet having struck him in the chest, and the compassionate part in her told her to go over and shoot him again, to put him out of his misery. But she couldn't…they couldn't stand here a moment longer, not with what she knew was probably about to happen.

"Let's go," she said, grabbing a handful of Lana's shirt and tugging at her.

"Wait," she said urgently, brushing her off and starting towards the dying man. "We need to check him, he might have-"

"No!" Carrie said loudly, lunging for her again. This time she seized her around the upper arm, and this time there was no arguing with the rough tug she gave. "We have to go, we have to get out of here!"

"But h-"

"There's more of them! There are always more."

Lana's face fell, suddenly realising what Carrie meant. There had only ever been once occasion in which Alexandria had encountered a completely lone Wolf, the first one Rick had ordered Carl to shoot so many months ago. Since then they had always been in pairs or group…why would today be any different?

To Carrie's relief Lana complied, the two of them breaking into a run once again, but this time it was a full sprint. There was no doubt in her mind that they needed to get back to Alexandria now, to warn the others that they'd sighted a Wolf, and they had to do it fast. Trusting that Lana was still unfamiliar with the terrain around this area, Carrie intentionally led her on the long route home, doubling back on themselves once or twice. The Wolves had tried following Enid to Alexandria in the days when she used to sneak out, they intended to the same when they attacked Carl.

No matter how long it took to get home, Carrie could not risk the Wolves following them back.

* * *

Trembling, Rick pulled the knife from the base of Carter's skull, his stomach turning as the blood rushed out over his hands. For a horrible moment he stayed there looking at him, seeing the face of the man who had come so far in such a short time, who after trying to kill him had become one of his greatest allies in Alexandria. He let out a low breath as he pocketed his knife and let Carter's body slump to the ground, consciously aware of those who surrounded him, watching. In the background he could hear the gunfire from the other side of the herd, Tobin and his group doing their best to attract the Walkers away from the screaming.

He looked up to see Lana standing there watching him, her lips parted in horror. He knew how it looked, how quickly and easily he had killed one of his own people, but he trusted she would understand. There was no helping Carter, there was no opportunity for him to die peacefully having said his goodbyes. Here in this situation the bite to his face endangered them all…there was nothing they could do for him. Yet still she looked down at him in horror, her hands shaking as she took a step back and looked away, trying to compose herself.

"It's working," came Tobin's voice over the radio. "The gunfire is bringing them back on the road."

Rick looked forward now, his shoulders slumping in relief as he saw the straying Walkers returning to the herd. He roughly patted down Carter's pockets, taking his knife and pocketing it. Behind him he heard footsteps, and from the corner of his eye he saw Michonne appearing, she too looking down at them in horror. But to him there was no time to linger, they had to keep going. He took the radio from his duty belt and raised it.

"You got them, Tobin."

"Copy that. What was that screaming?"

Rick hesitated, not wanting to say it over the radio. "That was Carter. He got bit, right in the face. I stopped him."

There was no response, not that he had been expecting one. This was a huge blow to them. Barely an hour in, and one of their people was dead and two more still unaccounted for. Needing to get on with it Rick turned around and collected Carter's fallen gun, swinging it over his shoulder before turning back to him. He picked Carter up by the ankles and dragged him towards the dense shrubbery, and then seized the torso of the Walker that had killed him and wrenched it from the fork in the tree. He stumbled under its weight and stench, but somehow managed to lay it down alongside Carter's body, draping its arms over him.

"Hey, what the hell?" Lana exclaimed, starting forward.

"We'll come back for him. We'll bring him home and bury him," he answered. Knowing the Walker was the root of her confusion he explained a little more. "We want something left to bury…this'll keep them away from him."

There was an awkward pause before Rick looked at Michonne and jerked his head forward, silently asking her to continue on. He paused and waited for Lana to do the same, and then he fell into step beside her.

"Lana, I need you to do somethin' for me," he quietly asked. This couldn't wait any longer.

"What?" she questioned. She was on tenterhooks, her eyes constantly darting around as she waited for something else to go wrong.

"Carrie's in the car with Abraham and Sasha. I need you to go on ahead and reach them."

Her curiosity aroused she looked over at him as they walked. "Why?"

"I need you to get her somewhere safe. If you go now, you should be able to make it to Duke Road before the herd gets there. Safe hou-"

"No," she cut him off incredulously. "I'm running off to protect your girlfriend."

"Lana, ple-"

"No, that's bullshit," she argued in outrage. "This is her plan we're doing, she should be here with the people she sent out! Not hanging out in the car or at a safe house!"

Rick swore under his breath, and then he moved closer, keeping his voice down when he spoke next. "Please, Lana. She's pregnant."

At this she stopped in her tracks, looking at him in shock. He didn't feel bad for outing the news of Carrie's pregnancy, he was willing to do whatever it took to make sure she was safe.

"She was meant to go to Washington for the meeting, not get caught up in all of this," he said urgently, compelling her to understand. "She shouldn't be out here. Please."

"She's pregnant?" she said, requesting clarification.

"Fifteen weeks."

" _Fark_ ," she cursed, shaking her head and looking away.

"Lana? Please. I can't spare Michonne, and I can't go either."

She held up her hand now, requesting a moment to think. "If I go and get Carrie, if I get her somewhere safe-"

"Our third safe house is just off Duke road, it's walking distance."

"If I get her there, will you go back to the quarry for Vetor and Sonja?"

Rick paused, having not expected this. It had been his intention all along that as soon as the herd was clear of Alexandria he would be returning, and entire group of them would go back to the quarry to look for their people.

"Of course," he agreed. "Once the herd is clear of home I'll go straight back there, I promise."

Still there was hesitation, but finally Lana nodded her head. "Where is it? Duke road?"

"Yes," he answered, ushering her to start back on foot again. "Carrie will know the way. If they can spare Daryl ask him to give you both a ride there, okay? Get there, lock yourselves in, and stay until someone comes to get you."

She nodded, agreeing to his plan. "You'll go back for Vetor and Sonja?"

"Yes," he said emphatically, meaning it. "Go now, please. Go."

Without another word she nodded and then took off running, taking a faster pace than the slow walk required to keep up with the herd. It wouldn't take her long to catch up with the car and to enact his request. In no time at all Carrie would be safe, spending the rest of the day and perhaps some of the evening holed up in one of their safe houses. Her biggest problem would be getting along with Lana, but he had no doubt in his mind that they would make it work. Carrie wouldn't be pleased with the plan, but she would do it if he asked her too, he knew she would.

Relieved that he had some kind of plan, Rick hastened to catch up with Michonne, the two of them staying close to one another. As they worked he comforted himself with the knowledge that things were mostly going to plan, and he tried not to think about those they had already lost. The herd was completely evacuated from the quarry, following the car and staying in tight formation. Though he had tried not to, it was easy to start feeling comfortable with the way things were going, for the task of running back and forth along the road becoming intuitive. Even then Rick didn't let his guard down, frequently checking in with his group and reminding them to not let stragglers go, to use their flares and guns as needed.

As things progressed there were no major incidents, the herd relentlessly pursuing the car and seamlessly making it's way around the turn at Redding Road. Supported by the RV and cars the walls held up despite the force, the herd encouraged to turn by the flares fired high into the air. It started to get a little chaotic when the herd further back started to cut the corner through the woods, but in no time at all they were back in formation and carrying on without incident. Things continued this way for more than two and a half blissful hours before the inevitable happened.

Though clearly in the distance, the sound of a horn saw Rick whirling around on the spot, his mind racing as he struggled to comprehend the sudden change. For a split second he looked into the woods in confusion, the sound absurd and completely out of place, but there was no time to dwell on it. A hundred yards ahead of him he could hear someone yelling, catching a glimpse of Glenn and Heath in the distance as they started to retreat into the woods. The herd was pulling off the road, the horn easily heard over the sound of their own moans and snarls.

Feeling panicked himself Rick too began to retreat, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach as he looked at the Walkers breaking their formation. As he moved back he looked left and right along the road, trying to gauge how many of them were breaking off. Would it be all of them? One of their biggest risks that day was that merely one incident could set off a chain reaction that distracted the entire herd, each Walker noticing the change in behaviour of the others and following suit.

As the entire back half of the herd broke off and entered the tree line, Rick felt a small moment of relief when he found Michonne by his side, she too wide eyed with horror over what was happening.

"Whatever that is…it's far," she panted, ushering him to keep retreating with her. "It sounds like it's coming from…"

When she trailed off Rick forced himself to finish her sentence, his answer filling him with horrible dread. "Home."

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading and reviewing, I hope you enjoyed :-)


	15. Chapter 15

The final two miles towards home passed in a blur, Carrie and Lana sprinting through the woods the entire way home. Despite having taken the longer route to help deter anyone who might be following, Carrie didn't allow them to slow even when the walls of Alexandria appeared down the road. They were two hundred yards away when Spencer saw them from the watch tower and called out to them, and when they drew near enough the gate began to open. At the sight of his Lana gave a hoarse cry of relief, stumbling in exhaustion as the two of them passed through into safety.

Their return home alleviated almost every worry and panicked through rushing through Carrie's head, allowing her too to breath a cry of relief. They had made it. They were safe.

While Lana staggered to a stop and bent over double Carrie resisted the need to do the same, instead keeping her body moving. Her legs felt like jelly, her heart beating out of her chest while her stomach gurgled worrisomely, but she couldn't let herself collapse onto the soft grass, knowing it would only make her recovery harder. Doing her best to recover she clasped her hands together behind her head and started walking back and forth, cooling her muscles as she took some deep breaths. It had been quite some time since she had run that far at a sprint.

"Are you guys okay?" Spencer called, climbing out of the watch tower window to stand on the scaffolding. "Carrie? Lana?"

Carrie nodded, glancing at Lana who was doing the same. As Eugene closed the gate they shared a brief smile, mutually glad to be home. Others were rushing to join them, all of the residents on edge thanks to the earlier news that the herd had broken out of the quarry ahead of schedule. The enquiries came swiftly and with concern, some of the children abandoning the playground to see what all the fuss was about, but it was to two people that Carrie went to first. Carol and Rosita were making their way over, concerned by their unanticipated return.

"What are you doing back?" Rosita asked. "Isn't the herd out?"

Carrie nodded, and tried to avoid answering the first question. "We need to make sure all the watch posts are covered," she panted, taking a sip from the bottle of water Rosemary pressed into her hands. "Two miles out we saw a Wolf."

"Two miles?" Carol confirmed, her brow furrowed in concern as she looked over her shoulder. Standing a few yards away waiting for her was Sam, and he had overheard what was said. "That's too close."

"Yeah," she nodded, turning to Rosita now. "And where there's one, there's gotta be more."

"I'll make sure the posts are covered," she said, though the rifle over her shoulder indicated she had abandoned hers to come and see them.

"Hey, just one thing," Carrie requested, trailing off as she tried to catch her breath again. "Don't tell Rick I'm back…he thinks I'm laying low at a safe house."

"Why can't I tell him?" she questioned, her tone very straight forward. It was unusual that they be asked to keep something like this from Rick.

"I don't want him to be distracted," she answered honestly. "Wait until the herd has passed Alexandria and everyone on foot has backed off. Until then, let them concentrate."

Agreeing with her reasoning, Rosita nodded and then swiftly departed, calling out to Spencer and pointing to the tower, swiftly telling him to get back up there. Over the radios she sent a call to the others on watch, warning them about the Wolf and reminding them to pay attention.

"Are you alright?" Carol enquired, looking her up and down. "How long have you been running?

"It was only a couple of miles, I'm fine," she assured her. As she said this Lana gave a pathetic moan, her legs trembling as she sat down on the road and gratefully accepted a new bottle of water, having already poured her own over her face and neck.

Carol slowly nodded, still scrutinising her for a long moment. "Well I better go…these damn cookies aren't going to bake themselves," she muttered, gesturing to Sam who was still waiting for her.

As she watched her go Carrie made eye contact with Sam, tentatively raising her hand and waving to him. She was glad when he responded in kind, even though his wave was a little hesitant and half hearted, not that it mattered. Moments later he was falling into step alongside Carol, already chattering at her. Taking another sip of water Carrie resumed her former pacing, feeling her muscles beginning to cool down and relax. Lana on the other hand still sat on the road, her legs stretched out in front of her as she poured another stream of water over her face and neck. Though she tried not to, Carrie couldn't help but feel a little smug, but she quickly quashed that feeling down, knowing it was uncharitable given what Lana had just done for her.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, looking down at her. "I'm grateful for you helping me get back."

Lana nodded her head, taking a deep breath as she looked up at Carrie. When she wearily started pushing herself up Carrie reached out her hand, glad when she clutched at it and allowed accepted the assistance to get to her feet. She stood there shaking for a moment, rubbing the front of her thighs before she straightened up and started thinking out loud.

"Now you're here I want to get back out there," she panted heavily. "I'll take one of the dirt bikes, I should be able to catch up to them."

"That sounds like a good idea, thanks."

Bending over Lana picked up both empty bottles of water, groaning as she stood up straight again. "I'll need to change out of these jeans," she muttered, beginning to slowly walk towards the townhouse where she and her group lived together.

As she walked past Carrie grinned in amusement, the others around them noticing too. "Lana?" she called out, not hiding her smile. "You should probably change your shirt too."

Lana frowned as she followed everyone's looked over her shoulder at the back of her shirt, rolling her eyes when she saw the muddy handprint Carrie had left her with earlier. When she left without another word Carrie did the same, kindly reassuring the anxious onlookers that everything was alright, that the herd was under control. The news of the herd breaking out had not been what people wanted to hear, making them even more frightened of the prospect than they already were.

In no time at all she was home, kicking her sneakers off before going through the open front door, hearing the sound of the television playing. At the front closet she deposited her gun, spare magazines and knives before securing it shut, and then she came into the living room. She found Carl sprawled out on the couch, one arm hanging off the side and his mouth slightly ajar as he slept soundly. Creeping around so that she didn't disturb him she made her way upstairs in search of Tara and Judith, glad when she quickly found them playing together in the main bedroom. Toys were strewn about Judith's part of the room, the little girl cheerfully stacking her blocks into a tall tower that Tara was doing her best to keep upright and balanced. The moment Tara saw her however, she abandoned the tower and leapt to her feet.

"We heard what happened at the quarry," she said, coming forward and engulfing Carrie in a tight hug. "Are you okay?"

Carrie didn't say anything for a moment, and instead returned Tara's hug with equal vigour. "I'm okay," she said as they broke apart, and then she braced herself to continue. "Vetor and Sonja are missing, and Carter's dead."

Like everyone else, Tara's face fell at this news, the worry she felt for her group only worsening at this bad news. "Shit, that's…shit." She cringed now as she looked around at Judith, realising what she had said in front of her. "I mean, _sugar_."

"Everyone else is alright," she added, resisting the urge to say _so far_. "Everything's going to plan, they're going to be fine."

Tara nodded, giving a heavy sigh before running her hand over her face. "Is Carl still asleep down there? I had to bring Judy up here so he could get some quiet."

"Yeah, he's still sleeping. Is he okay?"

At this, Tara shook her head solemnly. "He was great until an hour ago, and then the pain started. He took a pain pill and laid down to watch TV, he was out before the opening credits finished."

"Fucking Ron," Carrie said bitterly, feeling like he had attacked Carl all over again. When was this going to end for him? "I can't believe he did this."

"I doubt he'll do it again. Reg has got him cleaning bathrooms today…he started with Eugene's, and you know what happens to him when he puts milk in his coffee."

"Good," she said bluntly, feeling no sympathy. "I hope he hates every minute."

Tara didn't say anything more on the subject, knowing that there was little she could say to ease Carrie's justified hatred. "I was just about to leave for a while," she said. "I was thinking I might take Judy to the Infirmary, put her down for her nap there so Carl can get some quiet."

"No, that's okay, I'd rather her be at home. Thanks anyway," she added, appreciating the thought. She wanted to be home with her children, it was why she had risked getting back.

Leaving it at that, Tara left to go home for the afternoon, leaving Carrie and Judith to their own devices. Containing Judith to the bedroom, she left the bathroom door open for her as she peeled off her long sleeved shirt. While Judith played she cooled herself off with a cold shower, and though she tried not to drive herself crazy with worry she knew she would be watching the clock until Rick and the others came home. She hated the fact that she wasn't out there with them, that there was nothing she could do to keep her group safe. But as she ran her hands down her front and over her small bump she reminded herself to be content. She was exactly where she needed to be, even if she had to remind herself a couple of times. There was a reason she felt compelled to go all the way home that day. Carl was sick, and even if there was nothing she could do to relieve his pain, being there with him was the right place to be.

Noting that it was almost time for Judith's nap, Carrie didn't spend any longer in the shower than necessary. When she dried off she dressed in the comfortable clothing she wore day to day, knowing she had no need to go outside the walls or into the gardens. It was a relief to put on a loose shirt and pair of shorts, that she could choose a comfortable bra rather than the sports bra she chose to wear into Washington. As she dried her hair and hung up her towel she bustled around and tidied the bedroom, knowing that Judith would probably want to take her nap on the bed rather than in her crib. Thinking on this she wondered if she might spend some time painting her new bedroom, if Rick would mind she started without him. As soon as this thought occurred to her Carrie decided against it. He would mind if she started without him…besides, she probably didn't even know how to open the paint can, let alone how to actually put paint on the wall without messing it up. Rick on the other hand had painted his entire home in Kings County, inside and out. He would know exactly what do to…the only delay had been his struggle to choose a colour.

Asking Judith to be quiet downstairs and figuring she would make it ten minutes keeping the noise down, Carrie went downstairs and bustled around. Now was about the time of day they started thinking about dinner, namely whose turn it was to cook that night. Given the circumstances tonight's meal would fall to her, but she couldn't help but wonder if it was worth cooking. With Carl not feeling well he wasn't likely to eat much, and Rick would be exhausted when he came home. He rarely ate when he was too tired, preferring to just shower and collapse into bed. Daryl was much the same, often only remembering he ought to eat when he was called to dinner with them. Tonight Judith would be the only one ravenous with hunger.

Opening the refrigerator she looked at the food they had, grateful to Carol for teaching her how to cook a few basic meals. There were enough vegetables to make a green soup, and though she and Judith would love it she knew Carl would only eat it for sustenance, not enjoyment. Rick would decline on the pretence of giving others a greater serve, whereas Daryl had always made his feelings about her green soup clear.

 _"Looks like something you scraped outta Ass Kicker's diaper."_

Closing the refrigerator Carrie turned to the pantry instead, taking out a can of celery soup and some soya noodles. She set them onto the bench with a baking dish, getting it ready to prepare later. Carol had taught her to make this, a necessity to learn given the copious amounts of soya noodles and celery soup in the pantry. With some paprika and some other assorted vegetables they would have an edible meal that no one would turn their nose up at…not out loud anyway.

Hearing Carl giving a great sigh Carrie crept into the living room in concern, wanting to check on him. He lay on his back looking up at the ceiling, blinking slowly as he awoke. When he saw Carrie there was no hiding the look of relief on his face, this going a long way to reminding her about the argument they had only that morning. It felt like days ago, but she remembered him telling her that she didn't deserve to be Judy's mom if she was constantly going out. She knew his words had been unduly harsh, and she understood what he had been trying to tell her. He didn't want her going out anymore, he wanted her to stay at home with Judy. Given all that had happened and the long period of having both she and Rick around, she couldn't blame him for wanting that to continue.

"You feeling okay?" she asked softly, peering down at him.

Carl nodded slowly, his eye fluttering closed for a few moments before opening again. "Sore."

Recalling what they usually did, Carrie went back to the refrigerator and collected an ice pack and wrapped it in a tea towel. He thanked her softly and then gently laid it across the right hand side of his face, and when she brought a fresh glass of water he sat up properly to drink it.

"When can you take some more Tylenol?"

"Not until after three…did the movie finish?" he frowned, looking at the blank television screen. "Where'd Tara go?"

"She went home a little while ago. And you were asleep before the movie even started."

"Oh," he muttered, setting the glass of water back on the coffee table before laying back down again. "It looked like a good one."

"You want me to put it back on?"

He considered this for a moment, and then shook his head. "No thanks. I think I'm gonna go back to sleep."

"That's probably a good idea," she said, smiling as Judith came over now.

She knew her big brother wasn't feeling good, and she gently patted him on the knee like she always did. He smiled at her, reaching out and letting her climb up to sit with him for a little while. Though he tried to coax her into his arms she crawled down by his legs instead, sitting by his feet and beginning to poke his toes. As she watched the two of them Carrie's heart swelled in admiration, reminding herself how lucky she was to call them both her family.

"Do you want a blanket or anything?" she offered next. Whatever Carl wanted, she would get it for him.

Again he shook his head, and this time he settled into the couch cushions and closed his eye. "No, but could you close the blinds? It's really bright in here."

Hastening to do so Carrie got her to feet, but before she stood she leant over and kissed him on the crown of his head. She did it without much thought, the only consideration crossing her mind being to avoid the painful injury of his eye, and although the motion felt perfectly natural she was suddenly struck by a small feeling of embarrassment. She'd never kissed him like that, as if he were really her son. Looking down at him she narrowed her eyes, noticing that although his eye was still closed he was most definitely smirking at her, teasing her.

"Oh shut up," she muttered, giving a heavy sigh as she turned away.

He laughed a little, but as she lowered the blinds and the living room darkened he seemed to settle. With the ice pack against his face he relaxed, his sister still sitting by his feet, content for now. Carrie lingered there for a moment, the quiet and peacefulness feeling strange and awkward. It was always like this after coming home from a rough day outside the walls, and it was difficult to readjust your mindset.

Figuring it was a good time she made Judith a bottle of formula and then scooped her up from the couch, leaving Carl to rest in peace. With Judith under one arm and a bundle of fresh linen under the other she went upstairs, wrangling the toddler when she tried to help put the sheets onto the bed. With Carrie pretending to let her help, Judith followed her around to each corner of the bed and ran her hands over the sheets, smoothing out the crinkles and pleased to be of assistance.

When the bed was ready Carrie shook out the comforter, thinking about how wonderful it would be to get into a bed of clean sheets that night. It was a luxury she used to miss from the old world, one that Rick had learnt how to savour thanks to her moving in with him. There was nothing quite like ruining the sanctity of clean sheets by making love in them.

Setting Judith onto the bed Carrie fetched her blanket from the crib and draped it over her, the two of them reading together for a short while. When she went to leave Judith protested like she always did, and like always she happily agreed to her request for a cuddle. The little girl was cooperative in going down for her naps, but less so when it came to being left alone to sleep. Feeling pretty tired herself, Carrie lay down too and let Judith snuggle up against her, both of them closing their eyes to get some rest.

As she lay there feeling herself slipping off to sleep she wondered if Lana had gone yet. It was almost an hour since they returned home, she would have had more than enough time to change her clothes and catch her breath. It felt strange that Lana knew about her pregnancy, and with all the drama of Rick trying to get her somewhere safe she was certain Abraham and Sasha must suspect. There was no doubt in her mind that Tara also suspected, for although she trusted both she and Denise respected the privacy of the Infirmary patients, questions must have been raised in Tara's mind.

They were out of time now, not that it mattered. Once things settled down from the herd she and Rick would be able to share their news, perhaps even as soon as the next few days. It would be insensitive to announce such happy news following the death of Carter, and potentially the death of Vetor and Sonja, but soon enough they would be telling people. Carrie smiled, looking forward to this. Now that Rick knew and they had told Carl together, the anxiety she had spent weeks harbouring had eased somewhat. She was still nervous about what the future would bring, about the responsibility of ensuring the safety of a newborn in addition to Carl and Judith, but these days she could see the other side too. She felt excited now, looking forward to becoming a mother, to giving Rick a third child. There was no doubt in her mind that part of him had been hoping that one day they might have a baby together, a part that was secretly glad for their unplanned pregnancy.

"What do you think about a little brother or sister, Judy?"

When she received now answer Carrie repeated her question, though she didn't allow herself to be disappointed by Judith's lack of enthusiasm. Though they had tried to prepare her for Herschel's birth, she still had no comprehension of what it all meant. Nevertheless Carrie enjoyed posing the question to her, enjoyed verbalising the fact that next year Judith would have a younger sibling.

"Oh God, you're going to be the middle child," she groaned.

As if she understood what she meant Judith gleefully laughed, her smile twisting into another smirk. Having roused her enough she gently started shushing her again, glad when a few minutes later her eyelids started drooping. Ten minutes later she was fast asleep, and as Carrie turned onto her side and settled into the pillows she was certain she wasn't far off it either. It had been a long day, and she could sure do with some rest. Yet despite feeling the sweet relief of drifting off to sleep she soon found herself rousing, suddenly feeling wide awake and alert without cause.

It was the smell that made her react, the scent of something burning making her sit bolt upright. Her mind raced as she tried to remember what she had been cooking, for this wouldn't be the first time she had let a pot on the stove boil dry before setting off the fire alarm. Leaving Judith she shuffled off the bed and then raced downstairs, but even as she hastened into the kitchen her mind started to catch up. She wasn't cooking anything…but she could still smell something burning.

All was quiet downstairs, and after noting that there definitely wasn't anything burning inside the house she rushed outside. The smell of fire was stronger out here, and she looked around to see a small plume of smoke rising into the air to the east, her heart leaping into her throat. It was sure hot today, but hot enough to spark a grassfire? In the distance she heard a scream, and it was then that she looked around properly, her eyes falling on something that made her body turn cold.

A figure lay prone on the grass across the street, a pool of red spilling out onto the sidewalk. Her eyes wide with disbelief Carrie stepped towards them, quickly recognising the tight curls of hair as belonging to Shelly. She looked at her in shock, her mind paralysed as she noted the large gash in her head, the wound that had killed her. It was incomprehensible to her…what had happened?

Before anything started to make sense she found herself reacting to the situation, and she turned on her heel and rushed back into the house as the sound of another scream rang out across Alexandria. She slammed the door closed and locked it, yelling at Carl to wake up as she rushed to the back door. Her legs couldn't carry her fast enough, and her hands trembled uselessly as she managed to turn the deadbolt on the back door to lock it. For a moment she felt her mind paralysed with fear, for although they were safely locked inside the house, she could feel the danger they were in…this hadn't happened to her since Pete, since the day Carl had almost lost his life. That couldn't happen again, that was the mantra she started repeating to herself.

"Carl! Wake up!" she yelled at him as she came back into the living room. When he didn't respond again she seized him by the front of his shirt and roughly shook him. "Carl!"

Slowly he reacted, his eye fluttering open as he blearily looked up at her. "Wha's goin' on?" he mumbled, his voice slurred with sleepiness. "Carrie?"

Seeing that he was at least conscious she let him go and raced to the front closet, concentrating on entering the correct combination into their safe the first time. It opened just as Carl stumbled to his feet, running his hand through his hair as he slowly caught on that something was wrong. She took out his gun and holster and tossed them to him before collecting her own, stuffing magazines into her pockets. To her immense relief she felt a small element of self-control, conscious of the fact that she was doing something to protect her family rather than cowering in the corner.

"Something's happening," she explained as best she could, taking her machete and clipping the holster to the belt loops on her shorts. She closed the safe and ensured that it locked, and then peered outside through the front door. The street was void of activity, but that didn't mean they were safe. "I need you to go upstairs and get Judith, lock yourselves in the bathroom."

"What?" he exclaimed in dismay. "Where are you going?"

"Maggie."

That was her only explanation, it was all she needed to say. Without another word she put a round in the chamber of her Ruger and removed the safety, ready to shoot whoever she needed to, and then she stepped outside. She burst out into the warm sunlight, completely ignoring Shelly's body on the opposite side of the street in favour of those still living. As she sprinted the short distance next door she looked up at the intersection by Jessie's house, seeing two figures go running past, their large machete's swinging wildly as they whooped and hollered in excitement. The sight of them made her stomach twist, feeling violated by the very sight of these intruders inside her community.

She was glad to find the front door was locked, an indication that Maggie had already taken action to protect herself. Slamming her hand against the glass pane she called out to her, one hand firmly gripping her gun as she looked over her shoulder to the rest of the community. The black smoke was reaching higher and higher into the air, more screams cluttered with the sound of breaking glass. By the time she looked back inside Maggie was emerging from the garage, carrying two rifles and her face alight with fierce determination.

"Where are the kids?" she asked as she opened the door and ushered her in. She passed Carrie the AK47, knowing her skills didn't extend to the other she had.

"They're at home, safe," she answered, taking the rifle and slinging it over her shoulder. "I need to get you there, you and Herschel."

"Yes," Maggie agreed, having long ago accepted that hers was a life that could not be risked, no matter the help she could contribute. Herschel was dependent on her, and with only six cans of newborn formula readily available he wouldn't survive long without his mother.

While Carrie stood on watch for a moment Maggie disappeared into the main bedroom, emerging moments later with Herschel bundled up in a green blanket. It was only then that Carrie realised he was crying, a smear of milk on his cheek indicating he had likely been nursing when the attack began. Without further delay Carrie opened the front door and stepped out, the rifle slung over her shoulder and her Ruger raised. She waited a moment and took a look around, stepping right out onto the pavement and before ushering Maggie to follow her.

From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a figure between their houses, and she raised her gun and fired. Her first shot fell short, as did her second, but the third hit her target in the shoulder, and as they fell back in a graceful arc she caught a clear glimpse of their face. It was one of them, the Wolves. When they hit the ground Carrie turned back, needing to do this now or never.

"Come on, go!" she said to Maggie, who had retreated following the gunshots.

Herschel was wailing now, protesting the harsh sounds on his ears, but there was nothing they could do for him. In seconds Maggie was climbing the steps to the first house and opening the front door, but Carrie followed her only as far as the porch.

"Don't let Carl come out," she told her urgently. "It's too soon for him."

Trusting that Maggie and Carl would be able to protect one another Carrie made a run for it, letting her feet guide her without conscious thought. She had idea where she was going or what she was going to do, she just had to throw herself into the fray and do what she could. Seeing an unfamiliar figure standing at the top of the street Carrie raised her gun and started towards them just as Jessie emerged from her house. She was rushing down the steps before staggering to a stop with a horrified gasp, finding herself only yards away from one of their attackers. The Wolf turned towards her, their feet dancing as they rushed towards her with a gleeful cheer, their machete raised and ready to swing. Jessie fumbled with her holster as she backed up a few steps, already crying out in horror as she tried to save herself, but Carrie got there first. She started shooting, her shots going wide until she came to a stop and aimed properly. Jessie staggered and cried out in relief as the Wolf crumbled to the pavement, the machete falling with a loud clatter before Carrie hastened to pick it up. Having her own she tossed the bloodied blade into the garden bed, not wanting another attacker to pick it up.

"Get back inside!" she yelled at Jessie, imploring her to seek safety.

Though she was terrified Jessie ignored her, and a split second later she was making a run for it again, this time with her gun out of it's holster and held ready. The streets ahead of them were teeming with screams, but Jessie ran straight towards them without hesitation, heading down past the lake and towards the solar panels. She wasn't going into the fray to save people, she was looking for Ron, she had to be. A part of her compelled Carrie to go after her, to help Jessie find her son and return them both to safety, but instead she turned the other way.

It was impossible to know where to start, the entire community having descended into anarchy. There was a confusing mix of terrified screams and gleeful cheers, breaking glass heard all around as black smoke from the fire continued rising in the air. To her left emerged two figures she didn't recognise, and she turned her gun on them without hesitation, firing until they both collapsed on the porch of the house they had been looting. From their hands fell an array of inconsequential items, candle sticks and couch cushions - hardly anything worth killing to steal.

But Carrie wasn't alone out here, she wasn't the only one out there fighting. She could hear gunshots all around, a sound that comforted her in the midst of the chaos. No matter what they had at their disposal, Alexandria was almost certain that the Wolves didn't have ammunition. Those they had killed and searched months ago had carried only empty guns and magazines, and those that had already fallen today carried only a blade, no firearms. The sound of gunshots had to come from their own people, from the Alexandrian's fighting back to protect their community.

"Connor! Connor, no!"

Hearing the sound of a child's name Carrie stopped in her tracks, abandoning the fleeing Wolf she had just been pursuing. To her left Connor stood bewildered in the middle of the street, like a deer in the headlights so paralysed with indecision he couldn't move. Tears were streaming down his face as he cradled his bloody arm against his stomach. A few yards away from him was a long haired woman, crouched to her knees with her hands extended, coaxing him to come to her. To Carrie's horror Connor finally moved, going towards the Wolf even as Barbara screamed his name again.

Carrie raised her gun and started shooting, a bullet catching the Wolf in the leg and making them fall to the side. But just as she was about to fire again the slide on her Ruger locked back, telling her to load another magazine. In that split second the Wolf scrambled to her feet and lunged for Connor, the aggression in her eyes revealing to him the danger. He tripped in his haste to get away, falling and hitting the asphalt hard, and even as Carrie loaded a new magazine and released the slide she was certain he was done for.

Barbara fired now, and just as the Wolf reached Connor it's head jerked back, falling spectacularly with arms flailing. In an instant Barbara was there, gun in hand as she picked Connor up and hauled him into her arms. She staggered under the weight of the eight year old, almost losing her balance, but Carrie rushed to help her. Getting ahead of her she opened the door to the house Barbara had come from, looking inside to see Courtney and Haley standing by the window, watching the scene unfold in horror. She wanted to scream at them, to yell at them for not following the procedures that had been practiced again and again, but miraculously she kept her head.

"Get upstairs," she said loudly just as Barbara and Connor collapsed through the door. "You know what to do, lock yourselves in a bathroom!"

In an instant the girls turned and bolted for the stairs, hurrying the others to follow. Carrie and Barbara spared a brief glance as they passed by, but there wasn't time to exchange gratitude or check that the other was alright. Practically hauling him by the scruff of the neck she got Connor up the stairs, whereas Carrie lingered only until she heard the sound of a door slamming before silence fell. Not even considering the option of seeking refuge herself she left and closed the door behind herself, but left it unlocked. It was possible other Wolves could get in, but as long as the bedroom door was locked Barbara and the children would be okay. They needed to leave the houses open for other Alexandrian's to seek refuge in.

The chaos outside had not eased in the brief moments she had been inside, and seeing Aaron and Rosita rushing up the street carrying Holly between them she went to their aid, providing much needed cover. Coming out of nowhere was another Wolf, their attackers appearing around every corner, from behind every house and it was impossible to take them all at once. Carrie took down as many as she could, and though she managed to deliver only non-fatal wounds she had to trust it would be enough. The bare minimum they had to do was incapacitate the attackers, slow them down enough that they were no longer such an immediate threat.

She stepped over the flailing body of a Wolf she had shot, delivering another bullet that would ensure he wouldn't rise again. As she scrambled to collect his fallen pickaxe she was dimly aware of Rosita yelling something at her. Wielding the axe she turned on the spot, ready to take down the attacker she was warned about, but there was none. In what would only be a temporary reprieve the street outside the Infirmary was clear for now, but Rosita was still yelling at her.

"The gate!" Rosita screamed, she and Aaron carrying Holly across the Infirmary porch towards the door Tara held open. "Get the gate!"

For a moment Carrie didn't respond, rendered speechless by the blood on Holly's torso, by the limp way she hung in her saviour's arms. Rosita screamed at her again, and just before she disappeared into the Infirmary Carrie looked around and realised what she meant. A groan of horror fell from her lips, her stomach sinking when she saw that the south gate was wide open. Two Walkers were already making their way through.

Near the gate stood a tall, heavy set Wolf, one who whooped and cheered as he saw the Walkers coming inside. Clearly knowing what he was doing he seized one by its ragged clothing and spun it around, a rough shove sending it in the desired direction. He did the same with the other, and in seconds had sent the Walkers heading up different roads towards the Alexandrians. As if it meant nothing he picked up his abandoned axe and twirled it around, and even from a distance Carrie could see the maniacal grin on his face as he swung it over his head and brought it down on the body at his feet. He laughed as he swung it up and down again, enjoying himself.

That Wolf was tall and strong, his physical size making it too dangerous for her to let him get close to her. As she started running for the gate she holstered her Ruger and brought the AK47 around to her front instead, fumbling for a moment with the straps until she had it comfortable. It wasn't her favoured weapon, not by a mile, but she had come to learn just how effective it could be even in her hands. She pulled back the piston to bring a round into the chamber and then butted it up against her shoulder, ready to fire. Conscious of having only two magazines for the rifle she tried to keep her shots conservative, the first couple of rounds making the Wolf jump in fright as they struck the road around him. His eyes were wide as he looked around, and when he saw Carrie at a distance he narrowed them, menacingly brandishing the axe towards her. Clearly he wasn't right in the head for he didn't flee for cover, the way he turned to her making it all too easy for her to finally get a shot. It was the fifth that struck him, wounding him in the side, but it was enough to make him drop the axe and fall.

 _Twenty five_ , she thought to herself as she drew her machete, already running for the gate. _Twenty five, then reload_.

Well practiced at using her left hand, Carrie swung the machete and killed the Walker that had been sent her way, the rifle held safely in her right. As it fell she wrenched the machete from its skull and then glanced at the Wolf she had shot, watching him as he clutched his side in pain, struggling to get away and find cover. She raised the rifle to shoot at him again, but before her finger could find the trigger there was rapid fire from above. In the tower Spencer was laying heavy fire onto something outside the walls, and when Carrie looked outside the open gate her body turned cold again. In that horrible moment she felt incomprehensible fear, seeing something she knew almost for certain they were incapable of stopping.

Closing in fast was a large semi-truck, it's engine roaring as it drove straight for the open gate, a few tugs on the horn announcing its imminent arrival. Spencer's fire stopped for a moment before starting up again, but even from here Carrie could see that it was ineffective, that it wasn't enough. It was picking up speed, the intimidating roar of the engine telling her that almost nothing would stop it.

Without thinking she ran for the gate, desperate to close it before the truck could get there. She couldn't let that get in, there was no telling what might be in the trailer, but she could hazard a guess that they didn't want to know. More Wolves, Walkers…a bomb. She was sprinting now, her feet struggling to go faster though her brain was screaming for them to, but even as she reached the gate she knew that it was no use. The gate was enormous, heavy for a lone person like Carrie to close, and she would never get it closed in time. Nevertheless she gave it a heavy wrench, doing her best to get it closed before looking up at the truck. She caught a brief glimpse of the driver, watching the way he raised his hand and tugged on the horn again, and just like the others he seemed to be cheering, celebrating what was happening.

There wasn't enough time. Abandoning the gate she stepped into the centre of the entrance and starting firing again, counting her rounds be damned. From the tower Spencer was doing the same, and in a split second the windscreen shattered, bright red blood blooming inside the cabin as one of them managed to take a headshot. She turned her rifle onto the front tyre now, hoping that taking out one of those would veer the truck away from the open gate, that it might hit a nearby tree or at worst the wall. But a split second later her magazine was spent, and there was nothing she could do except get herself out of the way.

She stumbled aside with enough time to watch as the truck gracefully sailed through the open gate, its great height making it seem colossal in size. Though it slowed without the driver the momentum carried it forward and up the sloping road, taking out one of it's own people who were in the way. Still hoping to divert it Carrie ejected the magazine and thrust a new one in, but by the time she pulled the slide back and was ready to fire it was too late. The truck went crashing through the front of Shelly's house, the sound of the crumbling structure completely drowned out by the blasting of the horn.

The sound felt deafening, the incessant blaring of the horn making Carrie flinch and turn away at the wrong moment. The Wolf she had shot had found his feet, but miraculously he ran straight past her towards the truck. She wildly fired at him, hearing bullets ricocheting off the trailer, but she was quickly forced to stop. A heavy blow was landed to the side of her face, the impact making her stagger to her left and almost drop her rifle, but she managed to stay on her feet. There was a loud creak from the trailer as she stood upright and spun around with her rifle raised, and it was then she came face to face with one of the Wolves, this one armed.

The woman smiled at her, revealing her broken and dirty teeth. Like the others she was unkempt, her hair bedraggled and her body having wasted away from starvation, but Carrie didn't feel sorry for her like she once may have. In the centre of her forehead was a deeply scarred W. Raised to Carrie's face was a shot gun, one that there would be no arguing with.

"Let him do it," the woman said, still smiling. "It's right."

She still clutched the rifle in her hands, a magazine loaded and her finger on the trigger, but she wouldn't be able to use it, not while she was looking down the barrel of a shotgun. The Wolf she had first shot was laughing at her now, gleeful even as he clutched his side where the bullet had struck him. In the background Carrie could hear someone calling her name, telling her to move, but she could do nothing. Inside she was screaming, filled with white hot panic that rendered her mute and immobile…she was powerless. There was nothing more she could do.

A loud clatter echoed, only just audible over the sound of the horn. In stark horror she watched as Walkers began filing from the rear of the trailer, making their way down a ramp that had been lowered. In seconds they began swarming the street, disoriented and confused by the deafening sound, but hungry nonetheless.

* * *

A/N A little shorter than I normally life, but definitely felt like the chapter ought to stand alone. I hope you guys enjoyed my version of the Wolf attack, more of which is to come in the next chapter! Please be sure to leave a review and let me know what you think.


	16. Chapter 16

_She still clutched the rifle in her hands, a magazine loaded and her finger on the trigger, but she wouldn't be able to use it, not while she was looking down the barrel of a shotgun. The Wolf she had first shot was laughing at her now, gleeful even as he clutched his side where the bullet had struck him. In the background Carrie could hear someone calling her name, telling her to move, but she could do nothing. Inside she was screaming, filled with white hot panic that rendered her mute and immobile…she was powerless. There was nothing more she could do._

 _A loud clatter echoed, only just audible over the sound of the horn. In stark horror she watched as Walkers began filing from the rear of the trailer, making their way down a ramp that had been lowered. In seconds they began swarming the street, disoriented and confused by the deafening sound, but hungry nonetheless._

Moving without a conscious decision to do so, Carrie started backing away from the emerging Walkers, stepping to her right even as the barrel of the shotgun followed her. From the corner of her eye she watched as more and more Walkers began spilling out, the sound of someone calling her name almost drowned out by the horn that continued blaring.

"Carrie, move! I can't shoot!" Carol was yelling, running towards them both.

The Wolf who held her up was grinning, matching her side step to ensure that Carrie was in the way of Carol's shots. As she heard the Walkers starting to close in on them both she wondered what the play was, if this Wolf wanted them both to go down together. From the corner of her eye she saw Jessie and Ron sprinting up the street together, looking down at the Walkers as they fled to the safety of their house. Deliberating, her eyes naturally fell upon the trigger of the shotgun, instinctually wanting to know how close she was to death, for there would be no surviving being shot in the face. But it was then that everything changed, for even as Carol screamed at her again to move, Carrie saw that the Wolf's finger was not quite on the trigger.

Gripping the rifle so that it wasn't dropped, she turned to her side to protect her front and then swiftly brought her elbow up, knocking the shotgun out of her face. The rest happened in a blur of instinct and adrenaline, unable to consciously plan and orchestrate the way she slammed the butt of her rifle into the Wolf's face. Her head jerked back with a loud howl of pain, and she fell when Carrie kicked at her leg and knocked it out from beneath her. As the Walkers closed in only feet away from them she hastily backed away and let them finish the job, watching as they closed in on the Wolf with eager snarls. By the rear of the trailer the first Wolf was scrambling to get away from the hell he had unleashed, still clutching his side as he too stumbled and succumbed to the dead.

Backing up a little further Carrie started firing at the Walkers, swiftly taking them down as Spencer joined her, quickly followed by Carol. One by one the Walkers started falling, more gunfire coming from other directions too, but they gained little ground. More of them continued filing out of the truck, and it was an impossible task to get there and close it, they had no choice but to let them come. In mere seconds Carrie's second magazine was spent, and she used the butt of the rifle to take out the closest Walker before drawing her Ruger. More experienced with this her shots became more accurate, her confidence increasing with the familiarity of the weapon that had never let her down.

Dozens of Walkers lay dead and still dozens more came at them, but as she glimpsed a figure that was most definitely not a Walker Carrie raised her hand. "Stop!" she shouted, trying to make herself heard over the horn that continue blaring. "Hold your fire!"

As the others stopped firing they simultaneously began retreating, whereas Carrie advanced forward a little. With her Ruger raised she took some careful shots, clearing a path for Lana who was making her way through the horde. She had come in fighting, the perfect choreography of her hunting knife and machete showing exactly how experienced she was at taking on Walkers hand to hand. With great ease she made her way through the horde and broke through, giving Carrie a grateful nod as they retreated together. Despite her relief she looked at Lana in horror, noting her extensive injuries. She looked like a mess, the right hand side of her jeans and shirt in tatters, her body and face red with painful grazes and blood.

"What the fark?" Lana exclaimed in horror, her weapons dripping with gore as she fell into place beside Carrie. "What's going on?"

"The Wolves, they're attacking," she explained, struggling to make herself heard over the horn.

With that in mind she looked towards the truck's cabin, seeing Rosita and Aaron at that end of the street struggling to make their way towards it, held back by their fight with the Walkers. In an instant Spencer took off running towards the townhouses, firing at their attackers as he sought to find his parents, to ensure they were safe.

"Get her to the Infirmary," Carol shouted, jerking her head towards Lana. "Then stay there, both of you!"

With that said Carol turned and ran, her gun raised to another Wolf who was rushing towards them. For a split second Carrie watched as she shot the Wolf dead and then sank to her knees at their side, wrenching their arm from inside the heavy coat they wore. Not questioning it Carrie grabbed Lana's shirt and tugged, yelling at her to move. To her relief Lana complied willingly, the two of them backing away from the Walkers closing in on them. There was no opportunity to close either the truck or the gate, but they absolutely had to find safety for at least a moment. Lana staggered a few steps, her face paling as she bled from each of the grazes on her leg, arm and face.

Together they made a run for it towards the Infirmary, never faltering when they found their first route behind the townhouses blocked. It too was swarmed with Walkers that had apparently come out of nowhere, two Wolves fleeing inside the school garage and then lowering the door behind them. Hoping that there were no Alexandrians seeking refuge in there Carrie and Lana were forced to take the longer route around the lake, past the larger swarm of Walkers. Nevertheless they ran for it across the grass, Lana taking out the Walkers closest while Carrie shot at those ahead, clearing an easy path for them.

Seconds later they were shrouded in relief, the sound of the horn dying down to silence. As her magazine ran out Carrie swung her machete at a Walker before loading another, and in that brief moment she looked up to see Rosita sitting in the cabin of the truck, shooting at the Walkers below her. By now Aaron stood on top of the trailer, the both of them shooting at the Walkers that were swarming the community. With them laying down extra cover Carrie and Lana quickly made it to clear ground, Lana gasping for breath as she staggered to a stop and looked down at herself, trembling in pain. Blood was dripping down her right arm and leg, the injuries making Carrie usher her towards the Infirmary. She made it a few steps before her right knee buckled, Carrie just managing to catch her around the elbow and keep her upright

"I was on one of the dirt bikes when that truck came past," Lana moaned as she pulled herself straight, panting for breath. "I lost control, crashed it. I tried to radio you guys to warn you, but no one answered."

"It was too late, it had already started when that truck came through," Carrie explained, trying to reassure her. She gave her a push and pointed to the Infirmary. "Go, now."

"No, wait. I ca-"

"You're hurt, go!" she insisted. "Guard them there."

Without another word Carrie turned and made another run for it, needing to check on things back at home. Like before it seemed quiet down that end of Alexandria, only one other body laying prone in the street, a Wolf she was glad to note. Sprinting towards the gardens she saw that another small fire had started, Button's rearing up with a loud neigh as she stomped at an intruder in her enclosure. More shots were fired from above, and she looked up to see Maggie perched in Carl's bedroom window, a rifle in hand. She fired at the Walkers appearing from behind Natalie and Bob's house, keeping the area clear and their animals safe. From the other side of the house she heard rapid gunfire, most likely from Carl. She could hear the sound of bullets hitting the walls, and at first she assumed that his aim was poor, but the sound of a falling scream told her his aim was true.

Amidst the gunfire from the Walkers and the rest of the community, Carrie heard shots fired a little closer to her, their sound getting her attention and making her turn back around. It had come from Jessie's place, she was almost certain, and so she raced to her aid and prayed that she was alright. The red front door was securely locked, but her heart filled with despair as she looked inside through the glass panes. Jessie lay slumped over on the kitchen floor, her body shuddering as she desperately tried to get up. Further inside the house a shadowy figure was disappearing up the stairs. Horror rose inside of her as she realised what was happening, that Jessie was hurt, that Ron and Sam were in danger.

She slammed the grip of her gun against the glass panes, smashing it and then slipping her hand inside to turn the deadbolt. As the door opened she flew inside and went to Jessie's aid, seeing the blood that seeped from her stomach and chest. She looked up at Carrie but then turned away, crying out in pain as she turned onto her front and looked towards the stairs, still trying to get up. Knowing what she was trying to tell her Carrie forced herself to leave Jessie's side, to abandon her in favour of her children. She raced to the foot of the stairs and raised her gun with her finger already on the trigger, but she took on fire first. A bullet soared past her right shoulder while another went wide and hit the wall, and in the split second she had in which to take cover she too fired. It was enough, and she scrambled out of the way as the Wolf came tumbling down the stairs, Jessie's stolen gun clattering down after her.

Laying on her side, Carrie took a moment to catch her breath and then pushed herself back to her feet, looking at the Wolf who lay in a heap at the foot of the stairs. They were playing possum, doing their best to remain still and unnoticed, but suspecting they had only sustained a flesh wound she shot at them twice more. There was a horrible moment as she lay there and took in the scene, pushing herself back to her feet before rushing to Jessie's aid.

Despair welled up inside her, tears erupting from her eyes as she looked down at her friend, holding her hand as she lay there trembling, struggling for breath. She didn't delude herself with attempts to get Jessie to the Infrimary, knowing already that she couldn't be saved. Struggling for breath Jessie desperately tried to speak, clutching at Carrie's shirt in despair before twisting her head around and looking towards the stairs. Her body gave a violent shudder now, a mournful whimper slipping from her lips as she looked for her children, still trying to protect them.

"I'll get them," she whispered breathlessly, doing what she could to comfort Jessie. "I'll make sure they're okay."

Jessie closed her eyes for a moment, shuddering as she again tried to get up, but as Carrie repeated her assurances she seemed to settle. She slumped back down again, her chest heaving for the breath that she couldn't take. When she looked up Carrie saw what it was that had comforted her, finding Ron standing at the base of the stairs looking at them. His expression was one of twisted anguish, tears rolling down his cheeks as he watched at his mother dying, but he seemed frozen, unable to move from the spot where he stood.

With a heavy groan Jessie looked at him, weakly reaching her hand out to him. Carrie could hear herself speaking, telling him to come over, to hold his mother's hand and be with her when she died, but nothing seemed to get through. Paralysed Ron stood there, unable to even speak as tears started coursing down his face. Weakening, Jessie let her hand fall to the floor, still looking at her son as she began to settle. At this Carrie hastily looked away, unable to stand what she was about to see, hating to see the very moment the life left the eyes of someone she cared about.

Despite the commotion that could still be heard outside, silence fell inside the house. As she felt Jessie's hand go limp in hers Carrie looked back to her, trying to quell the howl of agony she wanted to make. She looked at Jessie and re-experienced every moment of hurt and grief she had felt for the last few months, the loss of their friendship hitting her heavily. After all that had happened with Pete, why hadn't she tried harder to repair their friendship? ***** One more sentence.

Shuddering for breath, she used the back of her forearm to wipe the moisture from her eyes before looking up at Ron. "Where's Sam?" she managed to gasp.

Ron didn't reply, and he stared at his mother with a grimace of anguish, unable to look away from her. Carrie waited a moment before repeating her question, and it was this time that Ron looked up. His expression changed, his anguish fading into a blank stare that she had seen before, one she was familiar with. She recognised it from yesterday, this being the same look he had on his face after he had attacked Carl in the middle of the street. Her body turned cold, instinct telling her to act when she saw that in his hands he held his hunting knife.

This in itself shouldn't worry her, Ron having been trained to use his knife in situations such as today, but she trusted her instincts. Laying down Jessie's hand Carrie reached for her Ruger she had set aside, taking it by the grip before slowly rising to her feet. Her hands were sticky with blood, and she held it tightly as she faced him with trepidation. Already she could see how this was going to go, she knew what was going to happen, but it didn't have to come to that. They were only yards apart, but Carrie resisted the urge to step back from him, not wanting to show that she was afraid of him.

"Where's Sam?"

He was looking down at Jessie again, his face still void of emotion. "I don't know," he answered softly. Now he raised his eyes back to Carrie, squaring his shoulders. "Where did you take him?" he accused.

"I - Ron…" she stammered, not knowing what to say. Her heart was beating painfully hard, feeling a surge of adrenaline that made her hands shake with anticipation.

Ron stepped towards her now, flexing his hang around his knife, and so she took an equal step back. She heard a horrible squelch as she stepped in the pooling blood, she could feel it on her feet that she only just realised were bare. Despite what her body was telling her she didn't yet raise her gun, fearing that she shouldn't. Could she raise her gun to a child, to someone not much older than Carl?

"Do you know where Sam is?" she asked again, her voice wavering as she continued moving backwards. When she felt something hard against her calf she realised it was the coffee table, that she was unwittingly backing herself into a corner from which she couldn't flee.

This time he answered her properly, shaking his head to show that he didn't. The standoff continued, the sound of gunfire from outside compelling Carrie to go out there, to leave Ron there and retake her place outside in the chaos. There were Walkers out there, the Wolves still attacking…frankly she'd rather be out there than in here with him. That threat she knew how to handle, she knew what to anticipate…she didn't know what Ron was going to do.

"First my dad," he said quietly, his voice strained with long held grief. His jaw trembled as he spoke, tears falling from his eyes as he glanced down at Jessie for a moment. "Now my mom…"

Carrie didn't say anything, unsure of what he meant. She'd never denied responsibility for Pete's death, and among certain people she trusted she admitted that she was proud of what she did. But what was Ron getting at? Was he simply lamenting the loss of both his parents, or was he associating their deaths with Carrie? Was he blaming her?

"Ron," she began, prepared to give the blind reassurances that everything would be okay. "I kno-"

She was cut off when he took another step towards her, this one larger and more abrupt, and when he raised his knife she came to a decision. Taking a step back of equal measure Carrie told herself that she had to survive this, even if it meant doing the worst. Ron didn't know what he was doing, he was too blinded by grief and his young age to understand the reality of what life was, but that didn't mean she had to become his victim. She could handle Ron in a physical confrontation, having become better trained and more experienced in how to protect herself. She could hold her own in a physical confrontation in order to subdue him, but one wrong move could be a terrible thing for her. One blow to her belly could cause a miscarriage, and she couldn't take that risk…she wouldn't.

"Ron," she began, taking a deep breath before continuing. "If you come at me with that knife, I'm going to shoot you."

Tears were streaming down his face now, and she prayed that he dropped the knife, that she let him help her. He clutched the knife as though it were his lifeline, still holding it out in front of himself as he looked down at Jessie. Trembling, he let out a mournful sob as he realised he too was standing in her blood, that she really was dead. In that moment Carrie started to breath a sigh of relief, thinking that it was over now, that this was just a misunderstanding, but as quickly as that thought occurred it changed.

When he looked back at her his eyes were narrowed in accusation, his mouth twisted into a cruel snarl that reminded her horribly of Pete. In that split second she knew that it was over, and there was just enough time for her to repeat her warning before he took a purposeful step towards her. She scrambled backwards as she raised her gun, almost tripping over the coffee table as she moved her finger and pulled the trigger. The shot was deafening inside the house, but Carrie wasn't the only one who fired. Ron jolted twice, his eyes blinking slowly as he staggered back and slowly crumpled, falling down beside Jessie where he lay still and silent.

Carrie turned to her right, following the sound of the second shot that she hadn't fired. Crouched in the dining room she found Lana, lowering her own gun with a pained look on her face. She turned to Carrie and held her gaze for a moment, looking both apologetic and satisfied with what she had done, what they had both done. A long moment passed before Lana slowly pulled herself to her feet, staggering as she tried to ignore the pain from her motorbike accident. She started speaking now, offering words of comfort that Carrie wasn't ready to hear.

Instead she made a run for it, slipping a little as she leapt over Jessie and Ron's bodies and raced for the staircase. Her head felt fuzzy, the struggle to catch her breath making her feel like she was going to pass out, yet she pushed her body onward and climbed the staircase. Upstairs she lurched through the hallway towards Sam's bedroom, grabbing at the walls to steady herself. She had to find him, she had to look.

"Sam?" she called out hoarsely, forcing his name out of her mouth. "Sam, are you here?"

His bedroom was void of life, his absence there making her panic grow exponentially. Where was he? She was crying as she made her way through it, entering the shared bathroom and pulling back the novelty shower curtain. Everything began passing in a blur, each room becoming one as she passed between them, stumbling into Ron's bedroom and calling out for Sam, desperate to hear him calling back to her. But it wasn't him she heard first, her heart aching with fear as Lana raced up the stairs.

"Carrie, is he here?" she shouted, her voice growing nearer. "Carrie?"

"I don't know," she moaned, meeting Lana in the hallway as she reached the top of the stairs. "I-I can't find him."

A scream was fit to burst out of her chest at any second, her mind struggling to comprehend the enormity of what had just happened and the importance of what she was trying to do. As Lana limped down the hallway and started looking through Ron's bedroom, Carrie went back into Sam's and continued looking for him, struggling to muster enough breath to call out his name. She lowered herself down and looked underneath the bed and then rushed over to the closet, remembering that he used to lock himself inside when Pete was on a rampage. But he wasn't in there either, and as she desperately cast her mind back she wondered if he was still at Carol's when the Wolves attacked.

"Carrie," Lana called, suddenly appearing in Sam's bedroom door. "We have to get back out there. I think it's nearly over."

Realising she was kneeling in the centre of Sam's room, Carrie tried to pull herself together…it all felt too surreal. It was so easy to remember the time she had spent here, the week in which she had occupied Jessie's guest bedroom during her separation from Rick. Her presence there had been as much to help Jessie as it was to help herself, and it was during that time they'd become the closest, both women separated from their respective partners. Life at that time had been hard, yet being with Jessie had been simple. They shared taste in wine and romantic comedies, Sam came with her on a morning jog…why had she let that relationship break down so irrevocably?

Hearing Lana call her name again Carrie pulled herself together, gratefully accepting her assistance back to her feet. As they went back downstairs she hastily looked her over, noting that she had at least made a flimsy attempt to tend to the painful grazes from her motorcycle accident. When they were forced to walk over Jessie and Ron's body Carrie paused, knowing what had to be done. There was no time to be kind about it, yet her hands trembled as she lowered herself down to Jessie and reached for her head. She turned her head to the side and used her hand to cover her face, not wanting to look at it as she plunged her knife up through the base of her skull. It had to be done…she had to afford Jessie the dignity of not turning.

When it was done she pressed her lips to Jessie's forehead, and it was then she told her friend how sorry she was, the whispered words audible only to her, but they mattered nonetheless. Doing it only because she had to, because they couldn't have their own people turning into Walkers and taking them by surprise, she leaned over Jessie towards Ron, turning his head to the side and thrusting the knife up through the back of his neck. With him she was less gentle, but even that moment of cruelty did nothing to abate the despair that was welling up inside her chest.

Outside things were indeed winding down, for although the streets were still teeming with Walkers there was no longer a sense of panic and fear. The Wolves must be all dead, and most of the community were more than competent to deal with Walkers, even this many of them. As she drew her machete Carrie started killing, the grief that welled up inside of her dissipating with every corpse she sent crumbling to the ground. Handling this was easy, it was a logical and straightforward task that allowed her to focus her attention on that rather than her fear, her grief. From the corner of her eye she watched as both gates were hastily closed, explaining how so many Walkers had continued filling the community.

Corpses littered the streets, and just as it occurred to her that she should race home and put shoes on to protect her feet she saw Carl. She ought to have known he wouldn't stay safely at home, that he would disobey any instruction if he felt his help was needed. As she rushed over to him he looked up at her, ready to argue and refuse to go back inside, but she didn't bother even trying. A quick glance was all she needed to at least be reassured he had taken precautions, that by wearing thick gloves and a few pieces of body armour he was acknowledging how much more vulnerable he was these days. So instead of yelling at him and sending him back home she fell into place on his right, covering his blindside and protecting Rick's son above anyone else.

She was dimly aware of the fact that she was crying, but as she methodically took down more and more Walkers she refused to let herself fall apart, simply wiping her eyes and getting on with it. It felt like hours to her, but mere minutes later Alexandria fell silent, every Walker having been taken down leaving the streets still and safe once more. It was difficult to know where to walk, to find a safe route through the corpses that littered her path, some of whom were still alive and struggling to get up. Keeping in mind her bare feet and shorts she allowed Carl to go on ahead and lead the way for her to walk, those who were still living hastily reconvening by the lake.

There were a few moments of painful silence as they all waited for someone to take charge, Carrie breathing a sigh of relief when Carol stepped up to the plate. She swiftly delegated roles, sending some people to resecure the armoury and Infirmary, while instructing someone to get Rick on the radio. As she gave these orders Carrie studied her in concern. Though it was clear no one was going to acknowledge it, Carol wore a heavy cloak and scarf around her neck…but Carrie didn't have it within herself to question the bloodied W painted onto her forehead.

* * *

Just when Rick thought he had everything under control, it began to unravel.

Through sheer grit and determination he had made it to the RV, keeping himself relatively unharmed but for a deep cut on the side of his hand that hurt like a bitch, but that was the least of his concerns. Daryl, Abraham and Sasha were still leading the front half of the herd away, Michonne and the others were heading back to Alexandria, and Carrie was laying low at their safe house. By now Alexandria had made contact with him and told him about the attack, that they had lost people…that Carl and Judith were safe. There wasn't time to think about that though, not with the herd advancing towards them to make everything worse. They couldn't afford to evacuate the community, not with many of them injured and dead, and he had assured them that he would divert the herd, that they would be safe, and so far every element had fallen into place. The RV was in position, he was ready and waiting for the herd to appear…and then seemingly out of nowhere came the attack.

What cruel twist of fate saw him stopping the RV right there? Why couldn't he have stopped it a hundred yards back where these Wolves wouldn't have seen him? These thoughts didn't cross his mind until after it was over, for he didn't even have a split second in which to think. When the first shots rang out and hit the console he dove for cover, and he looked around the side of the passenger seat and caught his first glimpse of the attacker. Without making the mistake of thinking about it too much he pulled himself up and charged at them, closing the space between them and knocking aside the gun. There was no way he was going to die like this. Those back in Alexandria were sitting tight, waiting for the news that he had successfully diverted the herd away from their home…he couldn't fail them.

The sheer determination to live is what fuelled him, is what gave him the strength to fight back even when the second Wolf appeared and briefly managed to overpower him. The skirmish didn't last long, for despite two of them against only him they were weaker by far, their bodies malnourished and their strength unable to last. It didn't take much to win, a couple of kicks to keep the first one down and some heavy blows to knock the other off their feet. That was all he needed to survive, just a split second advantage in which he could reach for his gun, and then it was over.

His ears ringing and the smell of gunpowder in the air, Rick stood there in the middle of the RV and took stock of the situation. In the moments that followed he looked down at himself, noting that despite what had happened his hands were steady, not a tremble to be seen. He felt completely in control, despite the unanticipated attack. The herd hadn't come through here yet. He could still do this, and nothing had changed except for the fact he now had to haul two corpses out of the RV, unless he wanted their company on the road that was.

Wanting to get on with it he holstered his Colt and turning to his right, keeping a watchful gaze over his surroundings as he began running his hands over the corpse, checking the pockets. Though their eyes remained open in death he didn't spare them a single thought…they were as much a person to him as the Walkers were. He was just contemplating the foul stench of their unkempt clothing when he saw the silver lid of a jar in their pocket, and he felt his body turn cold when he removed a small jar of baby food.

These Wolves had been in Alexandria…they had gotten away. How many more of them were lurking in the woods, circling their community to stage a surprise second attack? He stood up and looked around as if seeking an answer, but really he was taking a moment to collect his thoughts, to keep his mind on track. A quick glance through the open door told him the vicinity was still clear of Walkers, though the herd couldn't be far, and it was this he tried to focus on. Alexandria had to protect themselves just like they already had, they needed to hang on for as long as he could. Meanwhile Carrie would be at the safe house, safe from everything but her own dislike of Lana. He couldn't help any of them if he didn't complete his sole task of diverting the herd from Alexandria.

It was during this brief moment of collecting his thoughts when he saw a flicker from the corner of his eye, the type he had learned to be aware of over the last few years. A flicker of movement where there should be nothing signalled danger, and so he leaned to his left and peered into the driver's side mirror. As clear as day there they were, a person creeping around the back of the RV and up the side, and he watched on as a second and then third appeared behind them.

Incensed, for he'd had more than enough shit today, Rick set down the jar of baby food and then slowly reached for the rifle, watching in the mirror as the three figures crept further along the side. Taking a few steps back he settled his hand onto the rifle's lever that needed to be retracted, and then he held his breath and waited. He had to get this right…he couldn't afford to miss and let one of them go. When he counted three silhouettes behind the horizontal blinds he knew it was the crucial moment, and he had just enough presence of mind to notice the slow and clumsy movement of Walkers in the woods behind him. Gritting his teeth in anger he retracted the lever and began to fire.

The gunfire roared in his ears, the echo amplified to painful volumes in the small space, and he knew already he'd be hearing this for days, but that was no reason to stop. Though he have never hesitated to protect himself before, as he ravaged the three strangers with bullets he was forced to acknowledge that this felt different. None of them were people to him. They weren't human, they were mere obstacles in his path…obstacles he had no time for. As he fired on them he watched in the side mirror as their bodies jolted and flailed, and he stopped only when he saw the last of them fall out of sight. When he released the trigger he was panting, his body pumping with the surge of exhilaration.

He paused for a moment, catching his breath as he leaned forward and properly looked into the side mirror. Three bodies lay on the road completely motionless…unlike what was coming behind him. A hasty look in the other direction was all he needed to see that the woods were now crawling with activity, the odd movement looking like nothing other than breeze in the trees to someone who didn't know how to look for Walkers. He could hear them now too, could smell their stench…in a moment of panic he wondered if they could smell him too. They had heard him, that was for sure, their hungry growls and the clumsier than usual way they traipsed through the woods indicating they were looking for whatever had made that disturbance.

Still trying to catch his breath he tossed his rifle onto the passenger seat and then scrambled to resume his position at the wheel, wishing he had time to tend to the cut on his hand. He reached for the ignition and turned the keys, his mind racing with the urgency of all he still had to do. The RV alone wasn't enough, he needed to fire flares to break the Walkers from their trance of inattention, to lay his fist on the horn as he drove so the sound would keep their interest…but when the engine whirred pathetically none of that mattered.

 _No_.

His heart still Rick turned the key in the ignition again, all the breath leaving his chest as the starter motor turned over and over. In his mind he pictured the motor turning, could feel the slight rumble of action beneath his feet, and then it faded into a couple of meaningless clicks. Releasing the keys he waited a moment, listening to the background noise of the herd of Walkers that drew nearer with every moment he delayed. Urgently pumping his foot on the gas he turned the key again and willed the engine to start, and as it turned over and over before fading into silence so too did the voice of confidence and determination inside of him.

As his desperation grew he turned the key again and again, hopelessly listening to the engine failing. It vividly reminded him of Judith as she learned to walk, the tentative way she wobbled back and forth as she struggled for balance just as the engine too struggled. But unlike Judith whose wobbles soon turned into a gleeful stride, the engine was going nowhere. It felt like success was just out of his reach, that the sound of the engine's roar was slipping through his fingers.

 _Please God…just this once._

His silent prayer made no difference, for while the engine whined and struggled the Walkers had emerged from the tree line. Rick simply looked at them in despair, coming to the gut wrenching realisation that he had failed. He couldn't do this…he couldn't divert the herd away from Alexandria, away from his children. As he tried to fathom this the RV rocked, and he looked over his shoulder as the first Walker came through the door he had left wide open. Not possessing the capacity to know that it should raise its foot above the step, it stumbled inside and immediately set it's sights on the fresh corpse of the Wolf that lay waiting for it. Slowly rising to his feet, Rick's hands were trembling as he reached for his rifle on the passenger seat, looping it over his wrist before reaching for his satchel on the floor. In his peripheral vision he could see the road ahead filling with Walkers, he could see and hear the clawing hands of those at the windscreen who had noticed him inside. As the first Walker inside the RV greedily clawed at the Wolf another stumbled in behind it, immediately catching a glimpse of the living being inside and then lunging for him.

It's lunge didn't even come close to reaching him, but Rick's reaction was swift and panic fuelled. The satchel on the floor contained his ammunition and water, and he seized it and scrambled back, dragging it and the rifle along with him. In the confined space his movements were uncoordinated and panicked, his foot slipping on the feet and making him fall back against the driver's side door as the second Walker managed to find it's feet again. But as it found it's feet, Rick found the door handle.

When the door flung open behind him he fell gracelessly onto the road below, his body jarring when it hit the asphalt. His satchel and rifle came clattering down after him, the butt of the former hitting him square on the chin, yet the sudden jolt of pain served only to hasten him. The immediate area on this side of the RV was clear but for the Wolves' corpses and the Walkers that had been pawing at the windscreen, and he used this to his advantage as he scrambled to his feet. Without a second thought of the failed plan he made a break for it, storming past the Walkers already ahead of him and running for his life. The first obstacle was a mere fence, one he slipped over with ease before breaking into a full stride.

He made it fifty yards before he realised what he had done, that the familiar weight of something on his duty belt was missing. In the middle of the nearby field he staggered to a stop and looked over his shoulder at the RV that was already engulfed by the herd of Walkers, the herd that was still advancing on him. Somewhere behind him was his radio…his only means of contacting Alexandria.

He couldn't tell them that the plan had failed, that the herd was still coming.

* * *

A/N About Rick's POV, there was meant to be a scene in which we see him making contact with Alexandria, learning about the Wolves attack and then assuring them he was diverting the herd, but I really struggled with him this chapter and I just couldn't get it out. Hopefully the context is a little clearer in the next chapter, but unlike in the TV show, Rick in this situation knows what happened in Alexandria (not that it makes a huuuuge difference to things).

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, though I assure you the action is not over yet. I have liked writing these chapters in particular, and really hope you guys enjoyed. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Until next time, thanks!


	17. Chapter 17

The second house was eerily silent, the living room that was like a second home to Carrie deserted and still when she arrived. Trying to avoid the broken glass she let herself in and went straight to the closet under the stairs, taking out the two bags that were kept there. Setting them on the kitchen counter she returned to the closet and opened the safe, wanting to be sure that there was nothing left behind. Upon finding it empty she turned her attention to the larger safe in the garage, there from which she took some handguns, magazines and a rifle. While she slung the rifle over her shoulder she slipped the handguns into the first bag, pausing to check that the chambers were clear and safe.

Coming back into the kitchen she set the first bag down and selected the second, this one being the lighter of the two. She opened the zip and rummaged through, wondering how many diapers were too many. Herschel's bag had been carefully packed with wipes, diapers, medicine kit, blankets, clothes and the cutest mittens and booties Carrie had ever seen, but there wasn't time to marvel over them. Instead she went back to the closet under the stairs and grabbed a handful of disposable diapers. Having extras couldn't hurt.

Just as she slung the bags over her shoulder and began to depart she slowed, her brow furrowing as she started thinking about Maggie, wondering what she would need while she was away from the comforts of home. Dropping both bags to the floor she opened the first and started rummaging around, mentally taking stock of the clothing owned by Maggie, Glenn and Michonne. Wanting to be thorough she hastened into the master bedroom and started rummaging through Maggie's belongings, taking some spare nursing bras and underwear from the basket of clean laundry. Wondering what else she might need Carrie tossed into the bag a jar of lanolin cream and lip balm that sat on the night stand.

Confident she had everything her family would need Carrie slung the bag over her shoulder, then fetched Herschel's bag from where she had left it in the living room. As she departed the house she slowed a little, apprehensively observing the two corpses that lay on the porch before passing them by. They were dead, and though others had made sure that they weren't going to reanimate she still felt a certain level of caution. Passing them by she looked at the W on their foreheads, awed by how deeply scarred they were. The letter had been cut into their skin more than once, perhaps requiring more than a dozen mutilations to create a scar so obvious.

Trying to ignore them and the rest of the corpses that littered the streets of Alexandria, Carrie kept her gaze downcast as she reached the pavement and collected the other bags she had left there. She had gone about the same process of collecting their emergency bags at the first house too, making sure they had some spare weapons, toys for Judith and medical supplies for Carl. Grunting under the weight of the four bags, Carrie slung them over her shoulders and started walking, still keeping her gaze downcast. She didn't look up as she passed Jessie's house, not wanting to look through the front door to find she and her son laying dead side by side, to feel the immense failure and grief that felt like it was eating away at her. Even when she heard the sounds of Anna and Gerald coaxing Buttons into the horse float she kept her eyes downcast, looking at the road in front of her and ensuring she didn't trip over anything in her path.

The horror of the day hadn't ended when the final Walker and Wolf were slaughtered. Although they had been thorough with their investigation it had taken only a short while to ensure that not a single intruder remained inside the walls, that the corpses littering the streets had all received bullets or a knife to the brain to prevent reanimation. The world allowed them barely a minute of reprieve to process what had happened to them, to tend to their wounds and take stock of who had survived, and then things got worse.

The truck's horn had been incredibly loud, coming at the most critical moment of the quarry evacuation when the herd was passing by Alexandria just a few miles away. The worst fears for the community had been realised when Rick radioed to tell them the herd had broken off the road and entered the woods, that the Walkers were blindly following the sound even after it had ceased. Some of their group were rushing to return to the community, while Rick was making a run for it to the RV, hoping he could beat the herd and redirect them. He was halfway to the RV when he radioed a second time, and had promised them he would check in once he made it to the right position.

That had been forty minutes ago.

Sticking to an agreed timeline, the Alexandrian's allowed themselves thirty minutes of hope, thirty minutes for Rick to make it to the right spot and confirm that he could lead the herd away. While they waited they started doing what they could, bringing all those who had survived to congregate in the church while the others remained outside, doing what they could for those they had lost. Prepared for the possibility of an abrupt departure there wasn't time to start burying their dead, to wipe the blood from their faces and give them the dignity of being properly treated. All they had been able to do was drag the bodies of those they had lost into the nearest houses, their hasty solution to the possibility that a herd of Walkers might still find their flesh ripe for devouring.

When that thirty minutes had come to pass Carol had made a difficult call, deciding to evacuate every surviving person to their safe houses. Every moment up until then Carrie had been waiting on tenterhooks, certain that at any second Rick's voice was going to come across the radio to tell them he had made it, that he was alright. But it had been silent, Rick not responding to any of their calls. Carrie kept trying to reassure herself that he was alright, that he had simply switched to another channel to radio Abraham and Sasha, but she felt her hope fading, soon to be replaced with a familiar sense of growing panic. The thought that something might have happened to him made her body feel cold, her lips numb…it was incomprehensible.

With the decision to evacuate made, Carrie and selected others left the church to collect the emergency bags they would need, bags that Rick and his group had insisted be ready for this very reason. She had left with barely a word to Carl and Maggie, stating simply that she would handle this, that they needed to wait. As soon as she burst out of the church she had been able to let her calm facade fade, she had been able to feel the fear and despair that was fit to burst right out of her. She couldn't believe what was happening. That morning she and Rick had lazed around in bed, enjoying the rare opportunity to sleep in and enjoy one another at leisure. Now she was about the flee the community with their children, while he was completely unaccounted for.

Though she allowed herself a few short minutes of privacy, Carrie resisted the urge to linger in the streets or go to the Infirmary. Many of them had died that day, Denise unable to save many of the patients brought to her with wounds and injuries. Even one of the patients wasn't long for this world anymore, the Walker bite sustained to her hip serving Deanna Monroe a death sentence she couldn't avoid.

Though she wanted to go in, to see the fearless leader who had so eagerly welcomed her to Alexandria six months ago, Carrie did not. She had no place at her bedside right now, that place occupied solely by Spencer, the only one she had left. Reg was confirmed to be among the dead, and Carrie hadn't yet asked how he had died, who or what had taken his life…she wasn't sure she wanted to know the details. Instead she forced herself to go on, knowing that even though she would have to make a greater effort to stay calm and in control around them, there were people waiting for her. She needed to be with Carl and Judith, to be a pillar of support for Maggie who was also worriedly awaiting the return of Glenn.

As she reached the church she raised her eyes and looked around, glad to see that their evacuation was coming together seamlessly. They had practiced this drill many times before, they could clear the entire community in less than five minutes if they had to, but today they had time up their sleeves. Even if they were eagerly in pursuit of that fleeting sound, a herd of Walkers wouldn't make it to the community for another thirty minutes at least. They had time to spare, and so it was wise to take it without rushing unnecessarily. Nevertheless she judged that they were only minutes away from leaving, their vehicles ready to depart and just awaiting their passengers. One of the bags was slipping from her shoulder, and as she clumsily lugged it back up she noticed that Tobin and Michael were helping load up a car. Her heart seemed to jolt at this realisation, for if Tobin and Michael had made it back then surely the others must be back too, others like -

"Michonne!" she cried out in relief, seeing her emerging from the church doors. As a small slither of her worries were alleviated she rushed over, her eyes raking Michonne up and down to check for injuries. "Are you alright?"

It was immediately apparent that although she was physically uninjured, Michonne was not alright. She slowed to a stop as Carrie arrived, her head slightly bowed and her lips pursed, and there was a tense moment in which neither woman knew what to say to the other. To Carrie's relief that passed quickly, for with a heavy sigh Michonne's shoulders slumped, sharing her relief that she was back unharmed.

"I'm okay," she answered, her voice heavy with the weight of what must have happened to them.

Dropping the bags where they stood Carrie reached for her, glad when Michonne accepted her embrace and returned it, the two friends taking a moment to reconnect, to send a silent prayer of thanks. Michonne stank of sweat, blood and Walkers, the combination so familiar to them now that it didn't deter Carrie from holding her a few moments longer, not wanting to let her go.

"Is Rick with you?" she asked, even though in her heart she knew he wasn't. She knew it already, she could feel in the pit of her stomach that he wasn't there.

"No," Michonne replied with regret, pulling away from her to answer properly. "He went to try and intercept the herd…he went alone."

"We know. We haven't heard from him since he told us that over the radios. The herd must still be coming."

Michonne nodded in agreement, a gentle hand placed on Carrie's shoulder making her look up and pay attention. "Glenn isn't back either."

Carrie's heart sank, immediately thinking the worst. "Is he-"

"We split up from he and Nicholas. They went off together to try and light a fire, to distract the herd."

"And?"

Hesitating for a moment, Michonne slowly shook her head. "No fire. They probably got stuck and are laying low somewhere," she continued as Carrie swore under her breath, pressing her hands to her forehead.

"Does Maggie know?"

"Yes. She's…she's holding it together. She has to."

In agreement with the latter, Carrie was just about to pick up the bags and head back inside the church, and then she remembered something else. "You should know that Enid is missing."

"Yeah," Michonne nodded solemly. "Carl told me. What happened?"

"She stayed with the babies while Carl and Maggie were shooting from the windows. Apparently she talked about wanting to leave, and when things died down she was gone. Carl wants to look for her."

"He's raised the notion more than once." Michonne sighed heavily now, her hands on her hips as she looked out across the grass to the walls that protected them. "Enid has always been a flight risk. This isn't the first time we've heard her talking about wanting to leave."

"No, it's not."

There was a long pause now, Michonne mulling over her words, and when she finally spoke Carrie knew it wasn't without consideration. "We don't have time to go chasing after her. We've got Carl, Judith and Herschel to worry about, not to mention everyone else."

"I agree," Carrie said, grateful she and Michonne were on the same page. "I know it's harsh, but-"

"It's just the way it is," Michonne muttered darkly, cutting her off.

Carrie looked at her for a moment, seeing the sadness and pain in her eyes. Whatever had happened out there today had been bad. "Yeah. It's the way it is."

There was nothing left to say, and so Carrie picked up the bags and went inside, leaving Michonne to get on with whatever reason she had come out there for. Despite the many people that occupied it the church was rather quiet, chatter kept to a minimum as people sat and waited for instructions. As it often did on days like this words were failing the people of Alexandria, with most sitting in silence, grateful that they were still alive. Making her way down the aisle to where she had left Carl at the front Carrie looked around, morbidly taking stock of who was there and who was not. Already she had taken note of those at home who had survived the Wolves' attack, so now she looked for the faces that had returned with Michonne and Tobin. It was with a sinking heart that she saw fewer had returned than not. Glenn was an obvious absence, but so were Annie and David…Sturgess, Brody…Vetor and Sonja.

In the far corner she saw Lana sitting on the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks. No one had heard from Vetor and Sonja since the herd broke out of the quarry and swarmed the car they occupied. Now with the herd coming to Alexandria Rick was no longer in a position to uphold his promise to Lana that he would go back for them. Nothing could be done for them, and with her injuries from losing control of the motorcycle she was in no condition to go looking for them. She was slumped over in the corner, her right arm and leg heavily bandaged and her half face covered with a dressing. A part of Carrie wanted to go to her, to offer any amount of comfort she might be able to, but today she was forced to prioritise other people. Nevertheless she would make sure that Lana made it into one of the cars that day, that she was ferried off to the safe house where Denise ended up. That was all Carrie could do for her right now.

Returning to Carl and Maggie she lowered the bags to the ground, still distractedly looking around before focusing on the task at hand. "I brought some fruit and snacks," she said, opening the bag and passing a container of sliced bread to Carl. Seated on the pew beside him Judith's eyes lit up, still tired and grumpy from being prematurely awoken from her nap. Hungry, she reached for a slice of bread and bit into it, appearing significantly happier to have something to eat.

"Thanks," Carl muttered, already rifling through the bag to assess what else they had. "You want something? Some bread?"

She was looking around the church, keeping track of the time and mentally calculating how long it would take to get these people out of here. At this she felt reassured, confident that everything was under control. "No, thanks."

"You should have something," he insisted, pushing the bread towards her. "Carrie?"

It took all she had to not snap at him, to keep her temper rather than speak harshly. She knew what he was referring to, that if she was pregnant she ought not be skipping meals, but her pregnancy was the last thing she had the capacity to be dealing with today. There would be time to eat later, but for now she had other priorities.

"I will eat later," she said, forcing herself to keep her tone even. "There'll be food at the safe house."

Though clearly dissatisfied with her refusal Carl wisely chose to hold his tongue, to not argue any further. He turned his attention back to Judith now, ensuring she had her sippy cup of water close by should she need it, but still he watched her from the corner of his eye. At this she started to worry about how she was going to handle him, knowing that the decision she had reached but not yet shared was going to be poorly received.

"Maggie, is that everything you need?"

With Herschel cradled to her breast Maggie was rummaging through the two bags Carrie had brought to her. "It's perfect. Thanks."

"I got some disposable diapers too, instead of the cloth."

"Good call."

Setting the bag onto the pew beside herself Maggie turned to Herschel and removed him from her breast, but to their relief he didn't cry. As she fixed her shirt and got to her feet she gestured for Carrie to bring over the stroller, and she carefully set Herschel down before covering him with a lightweight blanket. Having nursed until he fell asleep he lay quietly, his lips and jaw still moving ever so slightly.

She picked up the bag and slung it over her shoulder, looking to the far corner of the church were Gabriel's quarters were located. "I've leaked all through my bra," she said lowly. "I'm going to change my shirt, I'll be just a minute."

"He'll be fine."

As Maggie stepped away she put her hand on Carrie's shoulder, ushering her to follow for a moment. "Carl's been talkin' about Enid again, wanting to follow her. Don't let him out of your sight."

"I won't."

Allowing Maggie to quickly slip away Carrie went back to Carl and the babies, consciously aware of the great responsibility she had right now. She wasn't just taking Rick's place, she was taking Glenn's too, doing whatever she could to ensure Maggie and Herschel had everything they needed, that they made it to a safe house. Per their plans, Herschel, Judith and the other children would be the first priority to evacuate, and since his injury Carl too was included in that list. Any minute now they would be swept out of the church and into a car, and that was when things were going to get ugly.

Just as Maggie warned her Carl was looking antsy, no doubt wanting to get up and quietly slip away. She didn't blame him for wanting to go after Enid. Were the situation different a whole group of people would have gone looking for her, pulling out all the stops to convince her to come back on her own terms. But with the herd coming the situation just didn't allow it. Carrie had to prioritise Carl's safety whether he liked it or not. Enid might be young, but she had survived on her own outside the walls before. She knew what she was getting herself into, and just had to make it for a day or so until they could go after her.

"Carl. Come and stand in front of me," she said, gesturing to the long jeans she had taken out of the bag. "I need to get changed."

Clearly it was an inconvenience to him, but an inconvenience Carrie was determined to repeat. She had to keep him busy, to keep him occupied and feeling needed so that he didn't have the time to seriously consider slipping away to go and look for Enid. Helping her out he came and stood next to Herschel's stroller and faced away, providing a small amount of privacy for her to get changed while Maggie occupied the closest bathroom.

Kicking off her shoes she shimmied out of her blood stained shorts and kicked them aside, annoyed to see that her hasty attempt to clean herself up at home had been unsuccessful. Though she had used the downstairs shower to rinse off her arms and legs she hadn't been thorough enough, with blood still in the creases of her knees, gore and viscera still clumped into the fine hairs on her forearms. She didn't dare properly run her hands through her hair, confident that there was at least nothing on her face but the bruise on the side of her mouth.

"Mom?" Judith called, suddenly appearing around the side of Herschel's stroller. "Mommy?"

Carrie sighed, annoyed to see the juice box she held in her hands. "Judy, not now."

"Mommy," she repeated, holding the juice box up. "A straw," she said, enunciating clearly. "Straw."

"Seriously Judith, your timing is awful," she sighed, hastening to step into the jeans. Judith's sweet voice had drawn attention from those around, and a few curious glances were cast her way before they quickly looked away.

"Straw," she repeated insistently, coming closer again. "Mommy? P'ease?"

Carrie sighed again, knowing that Judith wanted her to open the straw and insert it for her. Any other time she would have told her no, that she didn't need juice to drink when she had a cup of water, but today she simply grit her teeth and acquiesced, wanting her to be quiet and happy. Glaring at the back of Carl's head and questioning why he couldn't have done this, Carrie took the juice box and inserted the straw, taking a large gulp of the juice to reduce the volume. Inevitably Judith would squeeze it too hard, sending juice everywhere and wasting it.

"There," she said, handing it back. "Now sit down with it. Judy, sit down."

With intense concentration Judith took the juice box and slowly brought the straw to her lips, happily sucking on it and drawing the sweet liquid into her mouth. Though she didn't sit down Carrie let it go, not caring what she did so long as she was quiet and safe. She hastened to get dressed again, and it was with relief that she pulled on the jeans.

"Yours? Mommy?"

Halfway through tying her shoe laces, Carrie looked up in frustration to see Judith picking up the blood stained shorts she had been wearing, and she scrambled over and yanked them from her hands. "Go sit down," she said, gesturing to the wooden pews. As Judith's face fell she added a smile for good measure. "Go on, sit down."

Looking at her unhappily Judith slowly made her way around Herschel's stroller, but again she didn't sit down. As juice dripped from the straw she looked around in curiosity, still unsure of what all the fuss was about.

"Carl," Carrie sighed, watching as Judith wandered into the aisle right before his very eyes. "Go and get her. Carl!"

"Right, sorry," he apologised, leaving his position and rushing over to collect her.

She finished tying her laces as Carl brought Judith back and set her down onto the pews, sternly telling her to sit and wait. As could be expected from a one year old she complied only for a moment, and the second he turned away she was slipping down and coming back over to Carrie. Rick would have told her to reinforce the instructions, to put Judith back where she was and teach her how to obey them, but today Carrie just welcomed her into her arms. She was tired and grumpy, unsure of what was happening and why everyone was so stressed. Besides, Judith wasn't the only one who needed a little company right now.

Settling Judith into her lap Carrie pushed herself up just enough to peek into the stroller, glad to see that Herschel was still fast asleep. No longer caring if anyone saw, Carrie removed her blood stained tee-shirt and pulled a clean one from the bag, gratefully slipping it on. As they sat there in silence a minute or so passed, time in which Carl looked increasingly anxious while Carrie braced herself to find another distraction. She wasn't above waking a sleeping baby to keep Carl occupied, for Herschel crying was most certainly a job he was better equipped for than she. To her relief Carol was swooping down the aisle of the church now, ushering Barbara and three of the children out of the pews and towards the exit.

"It's time to go," she said, addressing Carrie and Carl next. "Where's Maggie?"

"She's in the bathroom," she answered, ushering Judith back to her feet.

"Take Herschel with you, I'll have her meet you at the car."

As Carol left to find Maggie, Carrie hastened to do her part, collecting their bags and then gesturing to Herschel. "Can you carry him?" she asked Carl. "We can't take the stroller."

Slipping on a back pack Carl nodded and reached into the stroller, easily scooping the tiny baby into his arms without disturbing him. He straightened the light blanket and readjusted him, and moments later they were departing the church and emerging into the pleasant sunshine that contrasted the horrors of the day. Waiting outside were the cars they would be taking, Buttons and Bubble's occupying the horse float currently being towed by Tobin's truck.

"Carrie," Barbara called out, waving her over to the blue station wagon. "You guys are with us. Come on, there's plenty of room."

They hastily made their way over, listening as Barbara and Aaron directed them to where they were going to sit. "Maggie and Herschel can take the front," Barbara instructed, looking towards the church as they awaited her return. "Carl can have the middle seat in the back. Carrie, you go beside him with Judy on your lap. Aaron's driving, and we'll squeeze the kids into the trunk."

As Aaron started helping the children into the back Hayley broke down in tears, shoving past him and racing back to Anna. While Anna consoled her and brought her back to the car Barbara started reassuring the others, convincing Connor and Courtney to get into the car, that it was safe to leave. Holding Judith a little more closely to her Carrie watched on, swallowing heavily as she felt her eyes starting to burn. She tried her hardest to keep herself together, but it became increasingly difficult as she started to look around for Mikey, knowing that he was good with the younger kids. But as his absence drew her to the horrible conclusion of his death, so too did the absence of another, one whose absence she had been trying to ignore. Sam. In spite of knowing what must have happened Carrie looked around again, half expecting to see Sam running out of the church and apologising for the delay. But if he wasn't there and he wasn't glued to Carol's side, then he wasn't coming.

"Hey," Carl said quietly, touching her arm to get her attention. "It's going to be alright."

Turning to him she managed a small smile, grateful for what he had said. Nevertheless he shouldn't have had to say it. Today it was meant to be her reassuring him, not the other way around. Just as she started to say something in return she trailed off when she saw Maggie and Carol coming out of the church, Michonne rushing over to say something to them before rushing off again.

"Safe house number five," Carol said to Aaron, reminding him of where they were going. "Michael and Michonne will ride ahead of you, they'll make sure it's all clear inside and out. Then you can go in."

Aaron nodded, opening the front passenger door and waving Maggie over. "We'll get them there, I promise. Might be a good idea to put on a movie for the kids, there should be a portable DVD player there."

"Good idea," Carol nodded, to which Carrie agreed.

As Carl carefully passed Herschel to Maggie who now occupied the front passenger seat, Carrie jostled Judith on her hip as she looked back at the children in the open trunk. Anna was prying Hayley's hands from around her neck, firmly telling her to go, that Michael would be going ahead of them.

"Hey, Carrie," Carl started, and by his tone alone she knew he was about to make a request of some kind. "When we get to the safe house and everyone's in, we sho-"

"We're not going after Enid," she said bluntly, cutting him off before he could properly ask. "I'm sorry Carl, but we're not."

He narrowed his eyes at her, but to his credit he managed to keep his temper, to not lash out at her like he might have wanted to. "We have to," he insisted, stepping in her way when she tried to turn around. "Carrie, we can't leave her out there alone."

"We can't go after her today, there's too much going on."

"But when everyone's safe and-"

"Take her for me," she said abruptly, kissing Judith on the cheek before passing her over. "I'll be right back."

Though he took his sister he looked at Carrie apprehensively, already wary of the fact that she was brushing aside his concerns for Enid. She shared a brief glance with Maggie as she left, a short nod of the head indicating that she had overheard Carl's requests, that she would help keep track of him. Hastily returning to the church Carrie was glad to see that more people were being sent out and ushered towards cars, already divided into groups and ready to depart. Slipping past them into the church she made her way past Gabriel, unsurprised that he was holding a last minute prayer group. Still slumped over in the corner was Lana, tears continuing to roll down her face as she and Mina awaited their instructions.

"Can you get up?" Carrie asked abruptly, not having the time to waste. "Can you walk?"

Lana nodded, cautiously wiping tears from the cheek whose graze was covered with a large dressing. "Yeah," she said, her voice sounding small and weak. "We're going?"

"Yes," she nodded, watching as Mina helped her to her feet, helping her stand with her arm around her. "You're going in the car with my kids, okay?"

"W-why?" she questioned, flinching and gritting her teeth as she set her right leg onto the floor and started walking.

"Denise is going to the same safe house as Carl. You need to be close to her too."

Lana nodded her head, her lips quivering as more tears fell from her eyes. "Thanks," she managed to say. Still bearing her weight on Mina she slowly managed to make her way out of the church and towards the blue station wagon. Though during the attack she had been as able bodied as Carrie, now that the adrenaline had eased she started succumbing to the full extent of her injuries. The grazes on her body were thankfully not to deep, but it was neglectful to overlook the fact she had crashed her dirt bike at a significant speed, that she was genuinely injured. Rushing ahead of them Carrie braced herself to face Carl, mentally rehearsing everything she needed to say to him. To her relief he was already situated in the car, occupying the middle seat with Judith standing up beside him, too antsy to sit down.

"Aaron, we're going to fit in two more, okay?" she announced, leading Lana and Mina to their car. "I don't want her to be waiting around and then being stuck in the back of a truck."

"Got it," he said, rushing forward to help.

He stepped in and gracefully took Lana off her feet and into his arms, her weak cry of relief heard by all. In no time at all he was settling her into the back seat beside Carl and Judith, helping her get comfortable as she turned side on to lean against the window. Heading around the back of the car where Mina was squeezing in amongst the children, Hayley having finally stopped crying, Carrie went to Carl and braced herself to give him the news.

"Carl, I need you to listen to me," she said calmly. "I'm not going with you."

His reaction was exactly what she had prepared herself for, his dark expression and narrowed eyes full of accusation. "Like hell you're not!"

"Don't freak out," she implored, his outburst having garnered the attention of everyone else in the car. In the front seat Maggie turned around, while Lana raised her head and looked over her shoulder, as dismayed as the rest of them. "I'm staying back for a little while, and then I'm joining you later."

Carl's protests would not be abated so easily, and he swore under his breath as he set Judith aside and got out of the car to face her properly. "Get in!" he said forcefully, gesturing to the back seat. "Y-you're not staying here," he continued when she shook her head. "You're not staying."

Frightened by the shouting and rising stress Judith started to cry in the back seat, her bottom lip trembling as she clambered to her feet and reached for Carl, seizing the back of his shirt.

"I'll be fine," she said, keeping her voice and tone even, hoping to reassure him. "But I have to look for your dad."

There was a short pause, the argument having drawn attention from more people. Those nearby had stopped what they were doing to watch in interest, while Michonne was tentatively approaching the car, wondering what all the fuss was about.

"Dad?" Carl questioned. "You're going to look for Dad?"

"Yes."

He seemed flabbergasted, struggling to find the words as they came bursting out of his mouth. "No. You have to come with us, that's your job! Judy needs you."

As if to support him Judith let out a particularly tearful sob, tugging at Carl's shirt and imploring him to turn around, to pick her up and comfort her. Nevertheless Carrie stood her ground, confident in her decision. "Your dad needs me too. Judy will be with you and Maggie."

"You're her mom!" he shouted as he angrily took a step forward. "You have to stay with Judy, you have to."

"Carl, I-"

"We don't even know where Dad is!" he shouted again. "You can't look for him if you don't know where he is. He could be dead!"

"That's exactly why I have to look for him," she said passionately, firmly believing what she said. "Because if he's alive then he might need my help. He could be hurt, he could be stuck somewhere."

"No!"

"Your dad and I will be at the safe house before you know it, I promise."

Michonne came forward now. "Carrie's right," she said supportively, placing her hand on Carl's arm to get his attention. "He's probably still ahead of the herd, we should look for him while we have the time."

"I can look for Enid too," she added.

Carl blinked, flabbergasted that she was now using his desire to look for Enid against him. "Wait, no," he started, stammering for the right argument. "That's not what I…it can't be you Carrie, it-"

"Let her go," Maggie spoke up, getting out of her seat. In her arms she cradled Herschel who was again nursing at her breast, the easiest way to keep him comforted and content. "It's too late to look for Glenn, but if Rick might be ahead of the herd there's still time."

Looking at her, Carrie sighed heavily, wishing that she could help Glenn. If there was one person who understood the position she was in it was Maggie. "Yes," she agreed. "There's still time."

"No!" Carl said loudly, struggling to make his argument heard now that there was a resounding chorus of agreement. "Carrie, you can't! She can't, she…Michonne!"

Michonne looked at him apologetically, unable to take his side this time. "I'll go with you to the safe house, and then I'll come back to help Carrie," she bargained, trying to reach an agreeable middle ground. "It's the right thing to do, we need to help your dad."

"Y-yeah, but not her! Sh-she…"

Carl trailed off now, and though at first Carrie thought their argument had gotten through to him that hope quickly faded. A look of sheer determination came over his face now, his expression lighting up as if he had come to a realisation that everything was alright now, that he could handle this. On the other hand Carrie's face was falling, and before she could open her mouth to stop him she knew what he was going to say, what he was going to do next.

"She's pregnant!"

There was a collective gasp from all around, one contrasted by the groan of frustration Carrie made. Driving his point home Carl repeated the declaration, making himself absolutely clear. Why hadn't she seen that coming? Why hadn't she foreseen Carl pulling out the only card he had in his hand to use against her? She should have known he would use this as a reason to garner support, to ensure he wasn't the only one who insisted she seek safety. Glaring at him in frustration for a moment she swiftly turned her attention to those around them, seeking to reassure them before they stood in support of Carl.

Michonne was looking at her in astonishment, her mouth agape and her eyes wide. "Is that true? You're pregnant?"

"Yes," she admitted. "Bu-"

"Congratulations!" she gasped as she came over and engulfed her into a hug. "That's such good news."

"Uh, no!" Carl protested, shoving Michonne by the arm. "Not good news! She can't go running off looking for people. She has to come with us."

Probably inclined to agree, Michonne pulled away and looked at Carrie in concern, as did everyone else watching on. Feeling like an animal cornered she took a deep breath and tried to think, to come up with a rational argument. Taking her by the arm she ushered her a few yards away to speak in private, conscious of the fact that everyone was looking at her, their eyes honing in on the shape of her body as they looked for the tell tale bump.

"Michonne, you're more useful protecting the safe house than I am," she said lowly, knowing she was speaking the truth. "And of the two of us, you're the only one who will be able to keep Carl under control. He won't listen to me when he's like this, you know he won't."

Sighing heavily, Michonne seemed only half convinced. "Carrie, he's not wrong. Maybe you sh-"

"You heard her!" Carl shouted belligerently, having been listening in. "I'm right and you know it."

Conscious of how much time they had wasted, Carrie finally allowed herself to reach breaking point. "Dammit Carl, he's my husba…" she started, trailing off when she realised what she had been about to say. But a second later she continued anyway, because legalities and wedding rings didn't fucking matter today. "He's my husband, and I am going to look for him," she decided before turning to Maggie, challenging her. "Tell me you'd do any differently in my position. You wouldn't, would you?"

There was a short pause, Carl stunned into silence while Maggie mulled over the question, her lips parted as she tried to think. A moment later she reached her conclusion, her shoulders straightening as she turned to Carl. "Get in the car," she said in a no nonsense tone, clicking her fingers at him for good measure. "Now. Get in."

"Maggie," he protested. "You can't agree with her."

"I do," she said unapologetically. She turned to Carrie now, quickly embracing her with one arm while Herschel was sandwiched between them. "Go find him, and then come back. Don't keep us waiting."

"I'll look for Glenn too," she began, trailing off when Maggie shook her head.

"The herd has already passed where he was," she said heavily as she got back into the car. "If he's alive, he's laying low. We'll go back for him when this is all over."

"Okay, we'll go back for him then," she agreed, gently closing the door for Maggie.

She turned back to Carl now, somewhat more confident that now he had been overruled he had no choice but to go along with her decision. He had finally turned to bring Judith back into his arms, consoling her tears and apologising for the shouting, but when he looked up at Carrie his expression was anything but apologetic.

"You're making a mistake. Dad wouldn't want you to do this."

"I know how he'd feel, but that alone isn't a reason that I shouldn't."

"You're pregnant, that's a good reason!"

Carrie shook her head. "You and your sister are going to be safe, I've done all I can there," she said, stroking her hand over Judith's hair before kissing her tearstained cheek. "Now I need to help your dad. If he's still out there, he might need me."

Carl didn't say anything for a long moment, and she could tell by the way he glanced over at Michonne that he was still seeking her support, hoping she might have a change of heart. Getting desperate now he looked around further, finding no support in Aaron who was starting the engine or in Barbara who was gently closing the trunk.

"I don't suppose you'll let me come with you."

"And slow me down?" she said bluntly. It was unkind, but given his current health it wasn't untrue.

Reluctantly in agreement to the latter, Carl hesitated a moment longer before giving his agreement. "I can't stop you," he said, the words more for himself than for her. "Just…don't do anything stupid. Get back before nightfall, okay?"

"I will," she assured him, though she took care not to make it a promise. Nightfall was the least of her problems if she couldn't find Rick. "Listen to Michonne, stay with Maggie and the kids. They'll need your help today, alright?" As he murmured his agreement she wrenched him into a hug, pressing her arm tight around his shoulder and Judith too. "I love you gu-"

"Don't," he said forcefully, pushing her away with a stern glare. "It's not goodbye, alright?"

She blinked at him in surprise, though she was grateful his rejection wasn't for the words she was saying, but her timing of them. Nodding in agreement she clasped him on the shoulder and then turned to Judith, brushing her hair off her face and straightening the duck in her arms. "I'll see you later. Bye for now," she said, kissing her on the cheek before stepping back and waving her hand. "Bye for now."

Judith's protests began immediately, her face screwed up and her hands rubbing her eyes as she started to cry. Without delay Carl swept her into the car and onto his lap, doing his best to console her as her tears set off Hayley again. At that things began happening quickly, Barbara rushing to take her seat next to Carl and slamming the door shut, while Michael on the dirt bike kick started the engine as he called out to Michonne.

Ushering her to follow for a moment, Michonne hastened to join him. "I'll get there, get them organised, and then I'll come back. Wait for me, alright?"

Carrie shook her head, walking with her towards Michael. "No, I'm going any minute now, I just needed Carl to go first. I've got a radio, I'll check in every now and then."

"Every half hour without fail, or I'm coming after you," she warned, double checking that her katana was secure before swinging her leg over the bike and settling onto the seat behind Michael.

"Got it. Be safe," she requested, giving her hand a quick squeeze before letting it go. "I'll get the gate."

Racing over to the gate Carrie tried not to look too closely at the dead Walkers in their way, the ones that had been admitted into the community when both of the gates were opened during the attack. Before she opened the second gate she seized one of the corpses and dragged it off the road, the way now being mostly clear for all those departing. As Michael and Michonne on the bike and Aaron in the car drew nearer she opened the lock and gave the gate a hefty tug, knowing that the slight incline made it easier to close rather than open. Keeping watch of the outside as she went she pulled it all the way open and locked it into place, watching with a heavy heart as the first group was evacuated from the community.

She had expected to cry, having anticipated it would be horrendously difficult to put Carl and Judith into a car and send them away, but despite her heavy heart she knew she was doing the right thing. Right now she was exactly where she needed to be. Something that day had compelled her to get home, to leave the sanctuary of the safe house and make it back to Alexandria. That gut feeling had proven to be the right decision, for had she not been at home Carl might not have awoken in time to defend himself and his sister. Now her gut was telling her to stay back while they went on ahead, to take a calculated risk by looking for Rick.

So as the cars rolled out of the gate she held herself together, even when she saw Judith bawling her eyes out in the back seat and Hayley doing the same in the trunk, her hands pressed against the glass as she looked back at Anna. As they slowly rolled out before picking up speed Carrie caught a glimpse of Lana in the back seat, still slumped over against the door. She looked to be half asleep, her blood stained hair a mess that was plastered against her face and neck, but as they passed by she opened her eyes and looked up a little. It wasn't much, but when she saw Carrie standing there she raised her hand in farewell, and perhaps in gratitude too. Wondering if some kind of impasse or middle ground had been met between the two of them, Carrie too raised her hand and farewelled her.

For a moment that was too short she felt peaceful, comforted by the fact that her children were being taken to safety, and with less fight than she had prepared for. Though it would need to be reopened again soon she promptly closed the eastern gate, the slight slope of the ground speeding up the process. As it slammed shut and she secured the bolt in place she turned around to check on the rest of the community. At the church other survivors were herding themselves into groups and cramming themselves into the remaining cars, the only being hustled with any kind of grace was Bob. Carrie's heart broke as she looked at the shellshocked expression on his face, his mournful eyes that still didn't quite accept what had happened to his wife of sixty years. The very idea of leaving Alexandria without her must feel completely foreign to him.

Hearing Carol calling her name, she braced herself before heading over to her, ready to take on whatever it was she needed help with. Still bearing the traces of the bloodied W she had painted onto her forehead, Carol was swiftly loading up the rear of a car with plastic tubs of crucial medical supplies.

"What do you need?" she asked, looking past her towards the Infirmary. At the end of the street she could see Tara emerging around the corner with Rob in a wheelchair, his face taut in pain as he clutched his shoulder.

Placing her hand on Carrie's arm, Carol looked at her intently. "You're okay to do this?"

She nodded seriously, noticing the way Carol looked down at her body, concerned about her pregnancy. "I'll be okay," she assured her. "I know what I'm doing."

"Yes, you do," Carol agreed, pausing as she stepped back and ushered people into the vehicle, directing one to the driver's seat to take the wheel. "Go and see Tobin, he's getting the Army truck ready for you."

At this Carrie felt both relieved and intimidated, for despite how strong and versatile it was, she'd never drive such a large vehicle before. Nevertheless she didn't let this show, not wanting Carol to doubt her confidence. Not knowing what else to say she simply stepped forward and pulled her into quick embrace, grateful when it was returned after a moment of what felt like resistance. As the community bustled around them Carol held her tightly, neither of them knowing how to express the sorrow and grief they felt right now. Neither of them had said Sam's name since the attack had ended, Carrie knowing that if he wasn't at home with Jessie there was only one other place he would have been. Whatever had happened to him, Carol was going to be carrying that grief for many years.

"What safe house are you going to?" Carrie asked as she pulled away, forcing herself to let Carol leave. "You're going to Carl and Judith, right?"

Carol shook her head. "I have to go to the other one, we need to divide our strengths. Denise is going to them, so is Tobin and Rosita, Aaron and Michonne. I need to go to the other one, keep those people safe too."

Reluctantly agreeing, Carrie squeezed her hand for one moment longer before letting it go and turning away, jogging over to where Tobin and some others were presently unloading people from the rear of the military truck. Though it would have been more ideal for them to transport a large number of people in only one trip, if Carrie was going to face off with a herd it was her life that would depend on the stability and structure of her vehicle. She needed it far more than the rest of them. When she found Tobin he was in the midst of unloading Scott's stretcher from the back of the truck, coordinating with Mitchell and Heath to keep him safe and secure as they transported him to the back of another car. As she waited Carrie looked up at the vehicle they had driven on the Georgia supply run so many months ago. Much preferring the company of those like Rick or Michonne she had ridden in the Hyundai or minivan…she'd never even set foot inside that truck.

"There's plenty of gas in the tank," Tobin started when he saw her arrival. "Do you know how to drive it?"

"Is it hard?"

Tobin hesitated, looking torn. "Maybe I should come with you."

Carrie shook her head, stoutly refusing the offer. "I'd rather you go with my kids," she said firmly. "All of the kids. Can you show me how to drive it?"

Though like others he seemed generally displeased with her intentions, Tobin heeded her request and ushered her towards the driver's side door. "Get in. I'll show you around."

It hadn't been her intention to stay until the last cars departed, but it took a good ten minutes before she was familiar enough with the military truck that Tobin was willing to let her go alone. For ten minutes he talked her through the unfamiliar console and the strange looking lever that controlled the handbrake, making her start the engine and move the truck forward a couple of yards. It felt completely foreign to be positioned so high above the road, to be in control of a vehicle three times larger than what she was used to, but quickly she adapted. She had no choice but to adapt, knowing that if she got too close to the herd this vehicle posed her best chances of survival.

"Tobin, you need to go," she insisted, securing the handbrake and killing the engine. His suggestion they take the vehicle for a quick drive around Alexandria fell on deaf ears, as did his request that he accompany her. "I'll be safe in this, and you're needed at the safe houses."

Unwilling to hear any further discussion on the matter Carrie pocketed the keys and then opened the door, feeling a surge of vertigo as she looked at the ground that much further down than usual. Clinging to the handles she slowly lowered herself down the sidesteps and back onto the ground, looking up at the behemoth vehicle in awe. Despite its intimidating stance and her overall lack of familiarity, she was confident that she could do this. If Rick was still alive and ahead of the herd she was going to find him, she knew it already.

An engine started, Carol slamming the doors closed on their delivery van before hastening to the front and getting into the passenger seat. While Spencer stood a few yards away watching over her, Deanna was at the gate with a cheerful smile on her face, waving goodbye to the delivery van as it departed. Carrie hadn't initially noticed her there when the first car had departed, but from her position in the truck she had been able to watch as Deanna waved goodbye to her community, wishing them luck and embracing those who had the time to pause. Her face was shining with tears, but her expression was one of resolute satisfaction, glad that although she was now facing death and leaving her last son orphaned, the community she loved so much was going to survive.

Tobin made one last appeal to go with her in search of Rick, and when she refused him again he respected her wishes. Making one last check that the horse float was securely attached, he joined Mitchell in his faithful truck and then started the engine, them being the last of the community to depart. Like the others before them, Deanna stood by the gate and waved them through, smiling when Tobin slowed at the gate to speak with her a few moments. The old friends laughed before sobering, and then at the last minute Tobin stepped out of the truck and embraced her, their vast difference in height making it look less like a heart wrenching good bye and more like a comical scene. To her horror a small laugh slipped from Carrie's throat, one she quickly stifled.

Without further fuss Tobin returned to his truck, the brake lights fading as they started off and promptly departed. Watching them go Deanna stood in the middle of the open gate for a few moments, her left arm pressed against her bloodied side before she went to the gate and removed the bolt, allowing it to gently roll closed again. The last three remaining in Alexandria, Carrie, Spencer and Deanna each stood there in silence for a moment, and as Carrie wondered if she had the strength of mind to say goodbye to Deanna, the decision was made for her.

Deanna turned on her heel and started towards her, though it was Spencer she was looking at. With a warm smile she said something to him, patting him on the arm as she passed him by. She turned her attention to Carrie now, turning her smile onto her instead. As she came closer Carrie tried to steel herself, always hating the moment in which she had to say goodbye to someone. The last time she had been allowed to say goodbye to someone she loved was with Shannon, who despite having been set upon by Walkers as she slept still managed to smile for her benefit. She'd held Shannon in her arms before plunging a knife into the back of her neck, cutting short her misery rather than allow her to slowly die of her injuries. Looking back over a year later she couldn't remember what she had said to her in that moment, and she questioned whether she'd been able to say anything at all.

"Come," Deanna said kindly, placing her hand on Carrie's upper arm and ushering her to follow her. "Walk with me."

Without a word Carrie did as she was asked, trying to get her thoughts in order. This was an important moment for her, the last opportunity to tell Deanna what she meant to her, what she meant to this community. Yet despite being known as someone who would talk her way into or out of anything, today the words wouldn't come to her, the pressure of it beginning to build within her chest. They walked in silence for a short minute, and when Deanna led them to the lake Carrie felt the ache in her chest beginning to ease. There was no missing the way Deanna's features softened as she looked out at the lake, perhaps remembering the many hours the community had spent swimming here over the summer.

"It's been just over six months since you and I met," Deanna said softly, her gaze cast out over the lake. "Do you remember that day?" she asked, glancing up at her.

Carrie nodded, feeling emotion welling up inside of her already. "I'll never forget the day I arrived here."

"Good," Deanna nodded, taking a deep breath as she turned back to the lake. A long moment passed before she spoke again. "That day, I knew you were someone special. In the six months I've known you, that belief has only grown stronger."

"Thank you," she said quietly, not knowing how else to respond.

"I knew this community was going to do great things for you," Deanna continued, her voice filled with passion and belief. "And I knew you were going to do great things for it in return. When you first came here, Rick asked you to get to know the people, didn't he? To form some close relationships?"

"Yes," she nodded. "He asked me to earn their trust."

"And you've done that so well. Now it will be to everyone's benefit that you did. This community trusts you, they believe in you…as do I."

A warm breeze swept through the community, but Carrie shivered in spite of it. "Thank you."

"Thanks to you, they trust Rick too. They believe in him too. I admit…I was worried that trust would never develop. But it did, and I partly credit that to you. To your level headedness, your diplomacy, your ability to see the bigger picture."

At this Carrie let out a short laugh, not feeling that those characteristics applied to her lately.

"You may laugh," Deanna smiled, nudging her arm. "I know it's been a hard couple of months for you, but _you_ are still here. These people still believe in you. That's crucial for them."

"Why?"

"Because Rick is now their leader, and you'll be by his side. Even if you don't feel ready to be their leader, even if you don't take up the role straight away, it's who you are now. Reg and I…" Deanna started, her voice wavering as she said her husband's name. "You have our complete confidence…we trust you."

The magnitude of what Deanna was telling her started to hit home, and as she nodded in acceptance she felt her eyes glistening, her lips trembling as she tried to hold her emotions in. "Thank you," she managed to say, her voice too wavering. "We won't let you down."

Deanna only smiled at her, though it was tinged with sadness that she couldn't be there to see it. "I know you won't. I'm rarely wrong about people…and I've never been wrong about you or Rick."

"Thank you," she whispered. "That means a lot to me…to Rick too."

"This baby I've heard about," Deanna enquired, looking up at her fondly. "Are you scared?"

At this Carrie laughed, the motion bringing a small amount of relief to the tightness in her chest. Scared was an understatement for how she felt a few short weeks ago. "I'm scared," she admitted, but she also managed a genuine smile. "Working on excited."

Understanding, Deanna gave her a knowing nod of the head. "Good. I've never met a mother to be who wasn't scared. Keep working on the excitement," she implored. "Because this baby is going to be the making of you."

Taken aback, Carrie looked at her in surprise for a moment. "How do you know that?"

"Call it experience."

In that moment one of Carrie's deepest fears resurfaced, the type of irrational worry that she knew didn't apply to her, but still lingered in the back of her mind."Rick and I…we didn't plan this baby."

Deanna chuckled in amusement, giving a heavy sigh as she straightened the bloodied shirt she was wearing, reapplying pressure to the wound on her side. "I knew it. This is what happens when you start rationing contraception," she joked.

Though she shared her amusement, she chose not to elaborate more truthfully. "It's just…I'm scared," she repeated. "I don't even know what of exactly."

"You may think being a mother to Rick's children has prepared you, but nothing can prepare you for how much you'll love this baby," she said proudly. "You love them already, but the moment you see them, when you hold them in your arms for the first time…you'll never be the same. You'll never want to be the same."

"But I don't want it to change too much," she said heavily, clenching her hands into fists as she confessed her deepest worry. "I don't want it to distract from Carl. He still needs Rick."

"Oh but it will change things," she said wisely, still smiling. "It must. That doesn't mean you and Rick won't have enough love to go around. You have no idea the capacity you possess to love your children, all of them."

Trying to take this all in Carrie nodded her head and then took a deep breath, Deanna's kind words meaning so much to her. No one had ever said anything like that to her. Not Rick or Denise, not even her own mother. A part of her questioned whether or not Deanna might be exaggerating for her benefit, to simply reassure her that it was all going to work out, but she trusted her. So many times she had seen the look of love Rick had in his eyes for his own children, the utmost devotion he had to them. Her own love for them developed slowly at first before hitting her in a sudden rush the first time Judith had fallen asleep against her chest, the first time Carl has asked for help with his homework. On one hand it had taken her by surprise, while on the other hand it felt completely natural, instinctual even. What Deanna had said, that even though things would change they would still be okay, that meant the world to her.

"We'll be okay," she said, the words both a question and statement. It was a promise she and Rick made to one another in times of crisis, when the world felt like it was falling apart and they needed something for the other to cling to. She said these words again now, feeling the confidence they both held in them blooming inside of her.

"I have no doubt that you will," Deanna agreed, looking up at her with pride.

She allowed a brief pause to elapse before she turned to Deanna to embrace her, knowing that she had delayed enough already. No matter how much she wanted to stay and talk longer she had to go. Rick was in danger, and she couldn't monopolise a dying woman when her son deserved her time more than anyone else. Mindful of not hurting her wound she embraced Deanna tightly, wishing she knew how to thank her properly, how to express her deepest gratitude to the life she lead in Alexandria.

"Thank you, Deanna."

"And thank you, Carrie," she replied, looking her in the eye before reluctantly ushering her back the way they had come. "You have somewhere to be, as do I," she said heavily, sadness coming over her when they saw Spencer waiting by the army truck, hastily wiping his cheeks before they got much closer. "When you find him, bring Rick by if you can. I'd like to see him."

"I'll try," she assured her, taking a slow breath as the moment to leave came. "He'd like that too."

Though Spencer was giving them their privacy, Carrie didn't want to take any more time away from them, knowing that whatever grief she felt was nothing compared to Spencer's. He was now facing the loss of his entire family, and he hadn't had the chance to say goodbye to Aidan or his father. She had taken too much time from them already, and so with that in mind she took her leave.

"Goodbye, Deanna."

Without drawing things out she departed, passing by Spencer who quietly assured her he would handle the opening of the gates. She placed her hand on his arm as she passed, sharing her sympathy for his pain before accepting his help to climb up into the cabin of the army truck. As she settled into the driver's seat he closed the door for her, and when the engine roared to life she felt a strong sense of resolution. She had said all she needed to say, and she trusted that Deanna understood her gratitude, that she knew what she had done for the community she had built from the ground up.

There was no sense of nerves or trepidation when she put the truck into gear and started off, not even intimidated when the engine whined in protest at the way she shifted gears. Right now she was exactly where she needed to be, and despite the horrors of the day she was confident in her choices. Something had told her not to stay at the safe house, to take a risk by getting home on foot, and that risk had paid off exponentially. Now she felt the same element of confidence, trusting that her decision to go and look for Rick was the right one.

She waved goodbye to Deanna who stood on the steps of her townhouse, keeping the vehicle slow and steady as she made her way around the first bend near the solar panels. For a moment she watched Deanna's shrinking form in the side mirror before she was gone all together, and she resisted the urge to look over her shoulder for one last glimpse of Alexandria's beloved leader. Instead she turned her attention to her task, to Spencer who had run ahead of her to open the south gate, the one she had passed through the very day she arrived here in Alexandria.

Unfamiliar with the handling of this vehicle it was a tight turn around the corner, her concentration focused on not side swiping the gate as she eased her way past, and then she was through. Lowering the clutch she moved up a gear before hitting the gas, the truck's engine roaring in approval as she opened it up for the first time in months. Despite the urgency of her task she kept her speed moderate, not trusting herself to maintain control at a high speed. Besides, she needed to go about this search methodically and intelligently, not in a panicked rush.

As the first bend in the road approached Carrie turned her gaze to the side mirror and looked down the road behind her, saying a final farewell to Alexandria and the leader responsible for building it.

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A/N Hi readers - I hope you enjoyed, as even though not a lot of action happened in this chapter, it was one of those that I really enjoyed writing. Please leave a review with your thoughts, what you liked/disliked, what you're looking forward to - your reviews mean so much! Thanks all.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N Just a quick note to a Guest reviewer about your thoughts regarding Carrie being a Mary Sue character. Next time please log in so that I can respond to your review directly, I appreciate and respond to all reviews, even if I disagree with them.

I'm sorry that you feel that my storyline has Mary Sue tendencies, though in this case I respectfully disagree. Just like Maggie in Season 6/7, pregnancy is not going to hold Carrie back from taking the actions that she needs to. There'll be a certain lifestyle adjustment (more on that in later chapters), but all in all she is still capable of doing what she alway has. In this case, she made sure Carl and Judith were safe, she played her part in evacuating Alexandria. She would have been justified in asking someone else to go and look for Rick in her place, but hey, that doesn't make for an interesting story!

I personally think I have a good story here (it's not perfect and never has been, when I discover plot holes and either do major rewrites or pray no one notices), but I'm satisfied with my work, and the majority of readers seem to agree. Please log in for your next review so that I can respond directly, I'm very happy to talk back and forth with all my reviewers. Thanks :-)

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Trembling, Rick lay there in the middle of the road and tried to catch his breath, his head fuzzy and his body betraying him. Using all his strength he raised his head and looked back down the road, a shuddering breath escaping his throat when he saw the herd drawing nearer and nearer. He had been laying there for a few minutes now, having lost his footing as he ran ahead of the herd, but struggled to get up again. Instead he lay there pitifully, wanting to stay where he was, to let the herd come for him. His body was pushed to the brink of exhaustion, the cut on his hand still bleeding profusely.

It took everything he had to push himself back to his feet and keep going, his body protesting every movement he forced it to make. Staggering, he made it back to his feet and started walking, waiting until the blood flowed through his limbs before breaking back into the quick jog he had endured earlier. His muscles ached, his lungs burning as sweat dripped down his forehead, but he forced himself to continue. A swift reminder of who was depending on him had been the deciding factor, that and a decision he had made long ago that he was not ever going to give up. He remembered the first time that had crossed his mind, the day he was stuck under that tank in Atlanta with seemingly no way out. He raised his Colt to his head, apologised to his family and then - salvation. Just like then today he kept going, he kept pushing himself

Rick had been through this before, pushing his body to the absolute limit so that he could survive, so his family could make it another day. The road to Washington had a long and difficult couple of weeks, particularly when they started out on foot with no other choice. So much was working against them, the weather, lack of water, the grief that threatened to destroy them all, but never once had he entertained the idea of giving up. Even when he gave his boots to Carl and walked barefoot, his feet breaking out into blisters while the weight slipped from his body and his shirt hung loose on his shoulders, he never gave up hope. He had to keep going for his children, he wanted them to live a long and happy life and they needed him for that. Today he had even more at stake than just his children and immediate group. There was a whole community depending on him to divert the herd, there was Carrie and their unborn child.

Rifling through his satchel as he ran he yanked out the bottle of water and took a small sip, wetting his mouth and throat just enough to soothe them. As he stuffed it back in he slowed to a walk and turned around, walking backwards as he observed the herd. No longer were they in one distinct line following the sight and sound of Abraham and Sasha's car. Having been pulled off the road and into the woods their tight formation was in complete disarray, the only consistency among them being that they were heading towards Alexandria, still following that fleeting sound that had long ago ceased. They were spread out now, a wave of death slowly but surely closing in on the community he called home.

Turning back around he resumed his former jog, putting some distance between himself and the herd as he kept his eyes peeled for something that could help him. With Carrie joining him on their way to Washington he had chosen not to take a cigarette with him, and so lighting a fire was out of the question unless he had the time to rub two sticks of wood together Boy Scout style. There were almost no cars left either, those in the immediate vicinity of Alexandria having already been taking away to flank the roadsides. All that remained were those deemed to unreliable to waste precious gasoline on, those whose engines hadn't started on the first couple of tries. But Rick was determined to find one that would start, to find a solution that would prevent the massive herd coming all the way to Alexandria.

Regardless of his success or failure in this aspect, Rick prayed that they had evacuated the community. His last communication to them had been when he first reached the RV, a reassurance that he was intercepting the herd and would confirm with them when it was done. That time had long ago passed, and he simply prayed that they were level-headed enough to take his lack of communication as a sign that they needed to evacuate. At this thought Rick groaned, kicking himself for the stupidity and panic that saw him without a radio. With adrenaline flowing from the unprecedented attack from the group of Wolves, his blood had been pumping and his body ready to take action, to protect himself at any cost. But when the RV wouldn't start his adrenaline and mental readiness had been swiftly replaced with a spiralling sense of despair, of disbelief.

As ran he began tossing up the choices he now faced, these being to run all the way back to Alexandria and give them the warning they had likely surmised already, or stay with the herd and keep trying. Staying back to find means of diversion was the more difficult task by far, but to him it was the one that made the best sense. Even if Alexandria was evacuating already, if there was a chance he could prevent the herd reaching their community he was going to take it. Even if there was no one left there, a herd of this magnitude would wreck havoc, potentially polluting the lake in which they swam, damaging any of their exposed crops, killing the horses or chickens that may have been left behind.

But almost an hour in and Rick knew that he was running out of energy, his strength waning. He had given it his absolute all to get to the RV in good time, unsure of how many miles he had run out in full sun, getting up and down hills without slowing once. Now that he had come to find brief reprieve in the RV it was infinitely more difficult to start up again, to maintain the strong and energetic pace that had kept him going thus far. Now his body was tiring, struggling with only sheer will to keep it going.

He was maybe a few hundred yards ahead of the herd now, enough space between them for him to slow to a staggered walk. Accepting the brief reprieve he found a clean space on his shirt and bundled his left hand in it again, trying to stem the flow of blood. Grimacing against the pain he flexed his fingers, glad to see that although the fifth didn't quite move in sync with the others, the tendon hadn't been completely severed. Clenching the cut firmly into his shirt he tried to reassure himself that it was fine, that the likelihood of a Walker's infectious saliva being on that machete was non-existent. He was fine, and he told himself that again and again.

Minutes later he was back in familiar territory closer to home, recognising the roads and housing development that was only a few miles from Alexandria. All around him were homes in various stages of construction, some built and fully established, some with foundations, others just vacant blocks of land. By now there were no salvageable building materials left in this development, Tobin and his crew having already pilfered them in the early days of Alexandria, but there were enough structures to serve the purpose Rick needed today. With the herd still coming he gladly made his way through the streets, confident that some of the Walkers would be lost in there and the herd's progress would stall. They would still reach Alexandria, but not so many at once.

As he jogged he searched for one street in particular, knowing they had left a utility truck abandoned somewhere around here. It's size would have made it ideal to be taken to Redding Road as a barrier to keep the herd on track, but they had quickly lost interest and moved on when it wouldn't start. At the time they suspected the battery, but with their jumper cables in another car they hadn't bothered trying to push start it, not when there were plenty of other cars for the taking. Today however, Rick needed it desperately.

Exhausted, he quickly became disoriented in a suburb he had come to know well, and so he slowed to a stop and tried to collect himself. He couldn't let panic take over again, he had to stay in control. With that in mind he pulled his water from his satchel and took another small sip, trying to clear the fogginess from his head. The sun was beating down on him today, sweat dripping down his forehead and back while blood dripped from his fingers. Wishing they had a safe house or stash of supplies in this area where he could get more water, Rick doubled back the way he had come and continued looking for the abandoned truck.

Quickly he became frustrated, seeing that that the herd had caught up to him more quickly than expected. The stench of their decay was apparent, their snarls audible even from a hundred yards away, but he had just enough time to check one last road for the truck. He sprinted back the way he had already come, running straight towards the Walkers in order to beat them to the crossroad they were closing in on, and he made it with time to spare. His eyes widened with satisfaction when he saw what was waiting for him, the white utility truck that had been abandoned on account of a flat battery. It sat waiting in the middle of the road, it's hood still raised from their hasty inspection of it over two weeks ago.

As he ran he looked over his shoulder, dismayed to see that the herd had begun following him down the road, not that he had really expected otherwise. With a glimmer of hope in front of him he turned his dismay into determination, the feeling of opportunity growing when he made it to the truck and slammed the hood shut. Tossing the satchel and rifle onto the passenger seat he released the handbrake and put the gearbox into neutral, feeling the vehicle shift a little as he did so. Keeping the driver's door ajar he raced around to the rear tray and pushed.

It took all of his strength to get it going, it seemed like a nonstarter at first, but as soon as the wheels moved a couple of inches it rolled cooperatively. Glancing back at the Walkers he pushed the truck until it rolled a little faster, and then hastened to catch up with it, cradling his left hand against his stomach as he jogged alongside the driver's door before grabbing the upper handle. He stumbled as he pulled himself up and in, but with the door hanging open he put his foot on the clutch and reached for the keys, left in the ignition from a week ago. When the ignition turned over and whirred just as the RV's had, he kept a cool head despite the growing danger. His greatest problem now wasn't the Walkers behind him but those in front, every inch the car rolled bringing him closer and closer to those at the other end of the street.

He swore when the engine remained unresponsive, and he slammed his hand against the steering wheel as the truck slowed. Feeling the flicker of the panic he'd felt earlier he leapt out and returned to the rear tray to push again. Already he was casting his eyes back and forth at the Walkers approaching from both directions, the hungry horde soon to trap him in the street. He glanced to his right at the nearest house and vacant blocks of land, knowing he could make it in that direction if had to. Still determined to direct the herd away from Alexandria he gave the truck one last hefty push before returning to the driver's seat.

"Come on!" he yelled angrily, the engine still ticking over as he turned the ignition.

Knowing there was enough gas to go a couple of miles he pumped his foot on the gas, turning the key and listening to the repetitive click and whir of the ignition. A cold sensation came over him as he looked up, realising how close the herd had come. They were barely thirty yards away, spread out across the entire road and grassed curb. That was too quick - he wasn't ready. He released the key and gave it a moment, releasing the clutch before trying again from the start. But it was no use, the ignition still ticking over, the engine silent. The sound of the Walkers was clear as day now, their eager snarls making his heart race. Twenty yards now…

 _Please_ he said in his head, his mouth miming the words when his voice failed him. He turned the key in the ignition again, pumping the gas. _Please_.

Ten yards.

The deep rumble of the herd grew closer and louder, and it was at this sound that Rick chose to make a run for it. With a low cry of frustration he released the key and lunged for his satchel and rifle before leaping from the truck, his knife clenched and ready to protect himself. As the truck continued to roll forward he raced around the back and made a run for it, but barely had he made it past the tray before he was slowing to a dead stop. For one terrifying moment he saw in the corner of his eye something too large and imposing for him to fight off, a confusing blur of movement coming towards him that made no sense until he looked properly.

It wasn't just the sound of the herd that had been growing closer and louder, but the sound of an enormous engine, one that was actually running. Looking properly his heart soared at the familiar sight of Alexandria's military truck careening towards the herd with reckless abandon, the canvass canopy over the rear flapping loosely as it made quick work of driving over a nearby building lot. In that moment the Walkers that had begun closing in on him became distracted, their attention drawn between the small and sight of his tantalising flesh and the louder and larger military truck.

Knowing only that help was there, Rick could waste no more time. His split second of confusion and relief had wasted precious time, allowing the herd to surround him on all sides and close the generous gap through which he had planned to escape. As he watched the military truck ploughing straight over the herd of Walkers and knocking them down ten at a time he bolted straight into the only clear space he could see, behind the utility truck he had tried in vain to start. Following it as the Walkers closed in on him he grabbed onto the rear tray and pulled himself up, yelling in agony as he aggravated the cut on his hand. But the pain was fleeting, adrenaline surging in order to save his life, and by the time he tumbled into the empty rear tray he had forgotten all about his hand.

The truck was still rolling with momentum, slowing only as it started hitting the Walkers ahead of it. Watching as the herd quickly surrounded the small truck Rick pushed himself up and scrambled towards the truck's cabin, hanging onto it for stability as the Walkers began reaching over for him. Their decayed limbs flailed excitedly, their mouths already opening and closing in anticipation of his flesh, but Rick paid them no attention. Safe where he was for now he simply held on and watched the military truck, awed by the ease in which it drove straight over the herd without a hitch. It was taking a wide circle around him, crashing over property fence and taking out the corner of house porch before swinging back around…it was then Rick saw the driver.

His mouth gaping in horror he just about lost his balance as he glimpsed Carrie sitting in the driver's seat, and when he blinked he prayed that he was just seeing things, that it was his life flashing before his eyes, not reality. But there was no denying it, the glimpse of her face high up in the truck's cabin was unmistakable. As quickly as he saw her she was gone, Carrie bringing the truck further up the curb and taking out another property fence before she veered onto an empty lot. Having found enough space she slowly turned the truck around and back onto the road, leaving behind her a trail of flattened Walkers that were quickly stampeded by the rest of the herd. If it hadn't been so real and terrifying Rick might have laughed at the sight.

Feeling a rough tug he relinquished his satchel to the Walkers, kicking and then swinging his machete at those that managed to grab hold of his jeans. Below him the truck's windows cracked, the body no match for a herd of hundreds that were crushing one another in their eagerness to reach the prey at the centre of it all. As he heard the frame groaning ominously he became aware of his fear, the terror that until now had been diminished by the sheer lunacy of seeing Carrie at the wheel of the military truck. He looked around him in horrified awe, sick to the stomach by the sight of Walkers everywhere. They had completely filled the street now, there wasn't a clear space to be seen…he had never been in the middle of a herd like this before.

Swinging the machete at the closest Walkers still clambering to get to him, he started clearing some space along the passenger side of the truck, cutting away at all of the hands and arms that could potentially reach him. There was no need to discuss or think about the plan to get him out of this, he simply did his part and waited while Carrie lined the two vehicles up and then approached, her speed painfully slow. Nevertheless it was working, the walkers starting to get distracted by the presence of something larger and noisier than Rick in the back of the truck. They turned to look at it, hungrily reaching out even as it slowly knocked them to the ground and drove straight over them.

Carrie brought the vehicle to a stop now, her face alight with terrified exhilaration as she fumbled around in the cabin. Finally she lowered the window and leant out, frowning as she tried to line up the two vehicles side by side.

"Rick!" she called out, screaming to make herself heard over the thousands of Walkers. "How far?"

Understanding what she meant, Rick retreated back to the cabin and hung on, prepared for the possibility that he might be knocked off his feet if she came just an inch too close. "Three feet!" he shouted back, pocketing his machete and then slowly waving her to come closer.

Resuming her place at the wheel, Carrie slowly turned the wheel and brought the truck forward, her eyes focused only on him as he waved her closer to the left before telling her to straighten up. Not letting her get too close to the truck in which he stood, he waved her forward and then simply waited as she did her part. He looked up at the military truck in awe, having never truly appreciated just how gargantuan it was, or perhaps that was just today's perspective. Left in the small gap between the two vehicles were a couple of Walkers, and as Carrie brought the truck to a standstill he left his place of safety and started hacking away at them all over again. In seconds the flailing arms fell into the tray with nothing more than a few spatters of blood, clearing the way for him to cross the space.

Above him Carrie cautiously opened the rear door, and surprisingly calm about it all he simply pocketed his machete and then reached up. From the back seat she took his hand to hold him steady, to hold onto him every moment from now until he was safe, but it was over in less than a second. Simply placing his boot on the skull of a Walker whose arms he had hacked off, he crossed the small gap and let her help him up into the back seat, still feeling surprisingly calm…unlike her.

While he slumped onto the back seat and tried to comprehend the notion that he was safe Carrie was screaming something at him, filled with wild panic as she looked at his left hand. She was demanding to know what had happened, seizing him by the shirt and roughly shaking him, but suddenly he had no breath with which to answer her. Unable to voice his answer he simply sat back in the seat and then pressed his good hand to her knee, patting it lightly as he tried to reassure her. It seemed to be the right thing to do, for immediately her demands fell silent and then a split second later she was gone, taking control of the situation again. Closing his eyes for brief reprieve he listened as she slammed the rear door shut, the motion doing little to drown out the noise from the herd, and then a moment later the vehicle lurched back into motion.

Back in the driver's seat she floored the gas and began mowing down Walkers once again, all too easily making their way through the herd towards safety. From his position slumped across the back seat he watched as the Walkers that were piled up on the windscreen went sliding off one by one, the bumps and jolts of the vehicle driving over the others and knocking them astray. Taking her time without panicking about it Carrie simply drove in the direction the herd had first been heading, the enormous truck mowing them down with comical ease. The further they progressed the less dense the herd became, and though it took less than a minute to reach clear ground it felt infinitely longer. When he saw her put her foot on the gas and the truck accelerated again, Rick closed his eyes and focused on breathing. There was a beautiful silence now, but he struggled to appreciate it, still trying to comprehend that he was safe now, that he was alive.

However the silence was brief, Carrie talking to him again and demanding an answer. She was looking at him over her shoulder, driving straight over another Walker and then a street sign before she turned her eyes back to the road. Unlike before her panic had receded, replaced by a steely resolve that indicated to him she was back in control.

"Rick!" she shouted at him impatiently. She spun the steering wheel wildly, a gentle bump indicating they were now off the pavement and back onto the road. "Answer me! Are you bit?"

He shook his head, but it seemed to be unclear.

"How long ago?"

Seeing that she was looking at his hand, which he held cradled and bleeding against his lower stomach, he realised the root of her panic. He shook his head again, taking a deep breath so that he could get out the single _no_ that would reassure her, but before he could the truck was lurching to a screeching stop. She vacated the drivers seat and began climbing into the back, and in response he hastily forced himself to sit up.

"I need your belt," she instructed, her voice steady and calm.

Glimpsing the machete she held in her hand he swiftly moved his hand far away, protecting it. "No," he managed to get out.

Her hand already at his belt buckle Carrie froze and looked at him, her eyes wide but her features surprisingly calm and measured. "No?" she questioned. "Y-you're…"

"I'm not bit," he said heavily, drawing in another deep breath. "…just a cut."

There was a brief moment as she took this in, and then without warning her steely resolve crumbled for a moment. He saw the anguish in her eyes as she lowered the machete and then reached for him, her body trembling as she put her arms around him. Responding in kind he held her body to his tightly, unwilling to let her go too soon. The touch of her body against his was the final indication that he had really survived and was going to live. He had pushed his luck too far trying to start that utility truck, he should have abandoned it after the first unsuccessful attempt. As the enormity of this began to dawn on him he pressed his face into her hair and breathed deeply, noting in the back of his mind the small clumps of blood. Because of her he was going to see his children again, he was going to live to see his third.

"Thank you," he whispered, still clutching her against him. "Carrie…thank you."

"You're not bit?" she asked tearfully. Pushing against him she pulled back and looked him in the eye, brushing the hair off his face before looking down at his body. "Not scratched?"

"No."

She seemed determined to make sure of this herself, and she took a moment to fully look him over before deciding she believed him. Nodding her head in agreement she looked at him again, holding his gaze for a moment before backing away.

"We're a few minutes ahead of the herd," she said as she clambered out of the truck. "We should have something in the back here."

While she disappeared to climb into the back, Rick fought against the urge to lay back down. He could feel his body trembling, adrenaline still surging through his veins, and he knew better than to remain inactive while his body came down from the high. He shuffled himself across the back seat and then staggered down from the truck, looking up at it in awe. Though it had been used on the supply run to Georgia and had transported numerous supplies, he'd never fully appreciated how large it was. It managed to make its way through an entire herd of Walkers, mowing them down with ease.

As Carrie fumbled around in the back Rick started pacing, forcing his body to move and wind down. He must still be in shock for he kept looking around unable to believe the immediate vicinity was clear, that there was room for him to walk back and forth without Walkers converging on him, crushing him to death before their teeth could. Though he could see with his own eyes that the herd of Walkers were far back down the road upon which they had stopped, it was still hard to comprehend that he was safe, that it was over.

He slowed his pacing as he looked the truck over, amazed that although it was covered in gore it was almost perfectly intact, a minor scratch from the utility truck an exception. Still taking it all in he looked at the front wheels, sickened by the sight of Walkers trapped inside the wheel well. The truck had been modified for this very situation, the underbody and engine protected by a few modifications made months ago, modifications that had proven effective. One of the Walkers growled at him as if in greeting, its eyes bulging and its hand still reaching for him, completely unconcerned that the rest of it had been eviscerated.

With little warning he bent over double and puked, his stomach emptying itself of his meagre breakfast and sips of water. He retched a couple of times, catching in his peripheral vision the way Carrie came to a dead stop and then backed away. She seemed to dither a moment, and if he wasn't mistaken he saw her shoulders lurch as she recoiled in disgust. Nevertheless she came forward to his aid, extending her arm out as far as possible as she offered him a bottle of water.

He took it with a soft word of gratitude, his hands trembling as he poured some water into his mouth before spitting it out, ridding himself of the wretched taste. With one last look at the Walker in the wheel well he turned and walked away a few paces, taking a small sip of water and swallowing it this time. Without a word he allowed Carrie to quickly tend to the bandage that he had bled through, gritting his teeth against the pain when she splashed some water over it. She quickly donned some latex gloves before applying some tape to the site, well trained by Denise in what to do when they were pressed for time. As she quickly worked they both kept a careful watch of their surroundings, Rick's eyes constantly drawn to the herd that was once again growing closer. Had Carrie been a minute slower those Walkers would have devoured him…without time to raise his gun they would have taken him alive.

"What happened to you?" he asked heavily, looking her up and down. She looked okay but for clumps of dried blood in her hair and a bruise on her mouth. "Why aren't you at the safe house?"

At this she averted her eyes, concentrating on his hand. "Well, you see," she began awkwardly, trying to make light of it. "Lana and I…we decided to just go all the way home."

 _I should have sent Michonne_ , he thought to himself. He didn't have it in himself to be angry, to be upset with her. "So you were in Alexandria?" he asked in trepidation, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. "You were there when the Wolves came?"

She nodded slowly, her hands quaking for a moment. "The kids are okay."

This he knew already, Carol had told him when they first made contact as he made a run for it to find the RV, but it was still a relief to hear the words. He didn't know what to say now, he didn't know the words that would sum up all that had happened to them that day, and clearly Carrie didn't either. Not knowing what else to do he simply waited until she was finished with the dressing and had taped it down, and then he took a moment to bring her into his arms. There was peaceful silence as they held one another, taking the opportunity to seek and provide comfort, to recollect their scattered thoughts. Still trying to collect his thoughts he looked back the way they had come, waiting for the moment that the herd would reappear, for it to be too late to get away.

"Are there any flares back there?" he asked when he released her, jerking his head towards the rear of the truck. He couldn't see anything with the canopy raised, but given how long she had rummaged around there must be plenty of supplies back there.

"I don't know," she answered, looking around the empty street. "Why?"

"We need the herd to turn, to go in any other direction than it's going now."

At this Carrie shook her head, taking a deep breath as she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "There's no need. We're evacuated, everyone's already out."

He turned and looked at her, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when she looked him in the eye and repeated herself. All along he had trusted that Alexandria was capable of handling themselves, that the evacuation drills had been practiced again and again, but still he had feared for the actual implantation of their plans.

"Carl and Judith?"

"They went in the first car, with Maggie and Herschel," she began explaining. "Michonne went with them, Aaron too. They're okay."

It was a relief to hear this, that those key people were going to be safe. "You left both of the gates open?" he asked, continuing when the nodded. "Alright…with the gates open the herd can pass straight through. The gardens we can deal with…the animals?"

"All out," she assured him, tucking in the end of the bandage. As she closed the medical kit she took a quick look around before getting his attention, holding his gaze and looking at him seriously. "Deanna stayed in Alexandria."

"Why?"

"Walkers got in," she explained, taking his good hand in hers as she said this. "She was bit."

At this news Rick's heart sank, a heavy weight settling itself across his shoulders. He knew what Carrie told him had to be true, yet it was unfathomable. Not Deanna…she was Alexandria's leader. Despite his general lack of faith in her real world skills he had never entertained the notion of her death, that she was mortal.

"She wanted to go with her people all the way, but she wanted to die in her own home, not a safe house," Carrie explained. "She was adamant. She saw everyone off to the safe houses, and she's home with Spencer."

"Reg? Has he stayed back too?"

When Carrie didn't reply he knew what the answer was, that the only thing that would ever keep Reg from his wife's death bed was if he too was dead. He swore under his breath and turned away, pacing a few steps as he tried to think, to muddle his way through his thoughts and figure out the next step. There was no need to divert the herd anymore, they would pass right through the community and eventually disperse…he ought to go straight to the safe house where his children were, to reassure Carl that he wasn't yet orphaned.

"I want to see her," he decided.

"She wants to see you too."

There was nothing more to say on the subject, and with the herd getting closer they didn't waste any time. Knowing his limits had been surpassed already he didn't bother requesting to drive, and instead allowed Carrie to escort him around to the passenger side, letting her take care of him. Hauling himself up and into the truck he collapsed into the seat with a heavy sigh, whispering words of gratitude under his breath when Carrie closed the door for him. As she took the driver's seat and started the engine again he closed his eyes and tried to rest, not that his mind allowed himself to.

"What happened with the Wolves?" he asked. "How many of us are dead?"

"I don't know…a dozen. Maybe two."

Already bearing the weight of loss, he didn't want to ask for the names, though the names of certain people crossed his mind. Looking at her, he forced himself to ask at least once. "Jessie? Her boys?"

He caught the way Carrie's mouth tightened, her fingers flexing on the steering wheel as she stared straight ahead. That was the only answer he needed, his heart breaking for the loss Carrie must be feeling. It didn't matter what had happened or how much he had opposed it, Carrie had longed to resume her friendship with Jessie, she still cared about her a great deal. This was a massive blow to her. Seeing her eyes shining with tears Rick reached out, gently touching the fingers of his left hand to hers on the steering wheel. There was nothing he could say that would help her, nothing that would ease the grief she was already struggling to hold back.

As her lips shook and a tear slipped down her cheek, Carrie took a shuddering breath and then took her hand off the steering wheel. Gently so as to not hurt him, she brought his hand to her mouth and kissed the back of his knuckles, having no concern for their bloodied and filthy state. Looking over she gave him a strained smile of gratitude, and then gently moved his hand back towards his shoulder, telling him to keep it still and elevated. He did as he requested, and with nothing more to say he settled back in his seat and remained silent for the remainder of the journey home.

* * *

It was with a sense of trepidation that he knocked on the front door of Deanna's townhouse, a very large part of him not wanting to face what was on the other side. In the brief moment he had to wait he looked down at himself and straightened his shirt, glad that Carrie had insisted he stop by home and quickly clean up. He looked over his shoulder to where she waited down on the pavement, having already said her goodbyes. Though he'd asked her to come and wait inside she had refused, instead choosing to relish in the last fresh air she was likely to get before days of being at the safe house.

Having seen him coming Spencer was quick to the front door, and when Rick heard it opening he wished the young man had taken his time. He wasn't quite ready to go in there, not quite prepared for the implications. Nevertheless he turned to face Spencer and reminded himself that it wasn't about him. He wasn't the one who was dying, he wasn't the one about to lose his mother…the last remaining member of his family.

"Spencer," he began seriously, recalling the skills he had learnt from delivering death notifications. "I'm so sorry for what's happened."

As expected Spencer's face was taut with stress, his expression one of anguish. Stepping back politely he gestured for Rick to come inside. "She's upstairs. She wants to see you," Spencer assured him, though at this his voice seemed to waver. After looking out at Carrie and realising she wasn't coming in he closed the door and then turned for the staircase, telling Rick to follow. "We saw you guys arrive. She was glad."

As he ascended the stairs Rick quickly looked around the house, finding that like many of the others he had walked past it was in disarray, furniture and possessions overturned and one window bearing a large crack. He'd never seen Alexandria in such a state, never seen it littered with corpses and the pavement stained with blood. The semi-truck that had crashed through Shelly's house before delivering dozens of Walkers wasn't a sight he was going to forget…the chaos must have been horrendous.

"How bad is she?" he asked, trying to prepare himself as they reached the first floor.

"Not bad." Spencer's simple reply came with the air of someone discussing sport scores. "It was just one bite…only one."

Rick followed him down the hall towards the uppermost staircase, but slowed to a stop as he passed the main bedroom. Through the wide open door he could see the bed where a body lay, though it took a moment for him to realise it must be Reg. His clothing was marred with bloodstains that Rick could barely take his eyes away from, and even at a distance he could see the defensive wounds on his hands and arms, he could tell he had fought for his life. Knowing much about what happened but still so very little, Rick wondered exactly how Reg had died.

"My mom, she…" Spencer began, his voice tightening with emotion. "She wants to die beside him. Wants to lay down and just go to sleep. I'm not sure yet if that's sick or romantic."

Suddenly feeling as though he was intruding, Rick tore his eyes away from Reg and looked at Spencer instead. "I think I'd go with the latter."

After a moment Spencer nodded in agreement, his shoulders slumping before he continued on his way, leading Rick upstairs to where Deanna was waiting. He had been up on the roof terrace once before, and the view over Alexandria and the surrounding miles had been beautiful. Deanna's decision to spend her final hours up there was wise. When they reached the upper landing Spencer stepped aside with his head bowed, simply gesturing for Rick to go through without him. Grateful for the privacy, Rick brushed his hand over Spencer's shoulder in gratitude.

Deanna sat at the small table and chairs by the edge, a glass of lemonade and plate of cookies on the table before her. Despite the sweat that had broken out on her forehead she was draped with a warm blanket, her face white and her features showing how weakened and tired she felt. Already the infection from the Walker bite was ravaging her body…she might only have a few hours. Yet when she turned and saw him there her smile was warm and welcoming, showing that she was genuinely glad to see him there.

"You'll have to excuse me," she began. "But I'm not getting up to greet you."

At this Rick managed to crack a smile of his own, feeling his tension and nerves begin to recede a little. "Ever the welcoming host," he quipped in return, coming out onto the patio to join her. Catching the way her shoulders moved with a laugh he knew it was the right thing to say, and he was glad to find her in good spirits despite the situation.

She gestured to the other chair, and at her invitation he sat down. A weary sigh escaped his lips as he sank back into the chair and looked out across Alexandria, appreciating the view just as he had the very first time he had seen it. For a few happy moments it didn't feel like he was visiting Deanna on her deathbed, it didn't feel like the entire community was in danger with many of them dead already.

"Carrie was absolutely certain that you were out there," Deanna began, her voice heavy with pride. "She knew it…she knew."

"She saved my life," he acknowledged softly. "I could be dead by now had she not come."

"She's a wise woman," Deanna continued, looking at him as she spoke. "Wiser than she realises. I hear you're to be a father again."

Rick smiled at this, his heart warming in spite of everything. "She told you?"

At this Deanna chuckled, shaking her head to herself. "In a fashion," she said coyly. "I'm sure you'll hear all about it later."

"Something to look forward to," he said with intrigue.

"She's going to be wonderful mother, but you knew that already." Deanna paused now, taking a slow breath as she looked out across the community again. "I told her earlier, this baby is going to be the making of her."

"I bet she didn't believe you," he replied, knowing Carrie well.

"No, I don't think she did at first…but she's coming around. I'm sorry that I won't be there to write a birth certificate for your son or daughter. I wish I could."

He nodded, understanding. "The birth certificate you wrote for Judith meant a lot to us."

"I know. It's still in my filing cabinet…I suspect a marriage certificate will be there soon."

"I certainly hope so," he said, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

A short pause came to pass now, but Rick didn't allow it to stretch on for too long. He didn't want to monopolise Deanna's time…he wasn't the person who deserved to be with her in her final hours. That place was for Spencer only, and so he kept the conversation moving.

"Deanna," he began heavily, unsure that words alone would articulate what he needed her to know. "Everything I have right now, my family, my children…I owe that to Alexandria. To you. I won't ever forget that."

Understanding, Deanna nodded seriously. "That works both ways, Rick. Were it not for you and the tough calls you had to make, the mistrust you endured from the very people you protected, we wouldn't have survived today." There was a heavy pause now, Deanna's features taut as she looked out across Alexandria. "We lost many…but none of us would be here now without your group."

"It wasn't just us," he acknowledged, proud of how far the original Alexandrian's had come. "It was them too."

With a trembling hand Deanna reached for the jug of lemonade, gripping the handle and trying to find the strength to pour some more into her glass. Quickly stepping in, he took the jug and filled her glass, politely refusing her offer of a glass for himself. She drank from it gratefully, her thirst another symptom of her bite and the infection that would soon take her own life.

"Thank you," she said when he filled her glass again. Still her hands were trembling when she finally set the glass back onto the table, her thirst quenched for now. "Don't ever forget the lessons you've learned here."

"Lessons?" he pressed for clarification, for there were too many to count.

"People need one another," she implored, settling back into her chair and pulling the blanket around her shoulders. "Make it work with Richard, with his group. It could be the start of something wonderful."

Though he still held his reservations about them, Rick had to agree with her. At many stages of the outbreak he had come to learn that the people he surrounded himself were essential to his family's survival, but that felt particularly pertinent today.

"You look out for your children," she implored him now, looking him in the eye. "Do whatever it takes. It's not natural what happened to Reg and I…they're not supposed to go before us."

"You're right," he agreed, even though the grief he felt following Judith's apparent death was nothing compared to what it was when one's child wasn't miraculously saved. "It's not the way it's supposed to be."

Conscious of how much time he had already taken from the mother and son, Rick tactfully chose to take his leave sooner rather than later.

"Thank you, Deanna," he began as he got to his feet. The words felt meaningless, insufficient, but they would have to be enough.

Seeing that he was preparing to leave she sat up in her chair, looking at him urgently. "This is your community now," she implored. "These are your people."

"Yes."

"They're ready for you to be their leader now, they _believe_ in you. As do I. You have my complete confidence, Rick."

Humbled by her words, he stood there for a moment and struggled for the words, to find the right combination that would acknowledge everything, but still they were not enough. Instead he simply took a step forward and then leant down, grasping her hand before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Goodbye, Deanna."

Squeezing his hand she managed a smile as he straightened up, looking at him with nothing other than complete trust. "Goodbye, Rick."

Leaving things at that, Rick cast his eyes out across Alexandria once more, ignoring the sight of the destruction at Shelly's house and the many corpse that littered the streets. Instead he took in the peacefulness of it all, the reminder that despite the losses and pain their community currently endured, they would be okay.

Spencer was waiting for him at the bottom of the first flight of stairs, staying close by should his mother need anything, but for a a few moments he left her and followed Rick downstairs. "I'll be safe here," he began, anticipating Rick's questions. "I'll lay low, let the herd filter through. I have everything I need."

"A radio and a spare?" Rick asked, just to be sure.

"Yes," he assured him. "I'll keep you updated on things here."

Opening the front door Rick looked outside, noting that Carrie had brought around a smaller vehicle for them to drive to the safe house. She stood leaning against the hood, and even when he appeared in the threshold she waited patiently, allowing him to take his time.

"Will you be okay with her?" Rick asked, lowering his voice.

He didn't need to clarify that he referred to more than just Deanna's death, but to the inevitable task Spencer would have to carry out. They didn't let their people turn, not if circumstances would allow them to prevent it.

"I'll be okay…I can do it."

It was the certainty in Spencer's voice that reassured Rick that he would be okay, that it was a task he was determined to carry out. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said emphatically. "And we'll be waiting for you to check in every couple of hours."

"I'll check in," Spencer agreed, both to keep them updated, and to reassure them that he was okay, that he hadn't done something terrible in the midst of his grief.

Clasping him on the shoulder for a moment, Rick departed with a heavy heart, not wanting to intrude any longer. Knowing that they simply needed to get on with things he shared a quick glance with Carrie before heading around and taking his seat on the passenger side, letting her drive again. Neither of them said a word as she too got in and started the engine, wordlessly taking a fresh bottle of water and passing it to him. Understanding, he took a long drink and then settled back for the short journey to the safe house where their family were waiting.

It felt surreal to be making his way through Alexandria like this, to be an observer in the aftermath of death and terror. Trying not to look too much, he instead turned his gaze to Carrie instead, watching as she drove through the streets and exited through the second gate, the car giving a heavy jolt as she ran over a Walker that lay still in the street. Her eyes were wet with tears, but like he she remained stoic, completing her task and waiting until later for everything to come crashing down on her.

He waited only until they had reached the open road, and then he reached out his bandaged hand and placed it over hers on the steering wheel, the only way he knew how to provide comfort when he too felt like he might unravel at any moment.

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A/N I hope you guys enjoyed another action chapter, it was fun to write. Please leave a review, they truly make my day!


	19. Chapter 19

A/N Hi Readers! A nice and long (but hastily written) chapter for you, I hope you enjoy the twist/variation I made to the end of the Season 6A storyline.

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The pain in Carrie's leg was unimaginable, a sharp bolt of agony in her thigh as a Walker ravaged her flesh, making a meal out of her. Clumsy with pain she was pushing at it, pinned down to the ground by an invisible force that hindered her attempts. She couldn't cry out for help, she couldn't even draw enough breath to scream…though a few moments later it became clear this was a good thing. There was no need to scream, there was no danger. Disoriented, she felt herself blinking through the darkness as she began to sit up, rousing herself from a particularly unnerving dream.

When she managed to draw breath she felt her anxiety waning, and despite the darkness she quickly realised where she was, that everything was okay. She was at the safe house with the rest of her family, Carl and Judith were asleep beside her, and the agonising pain of a Walker biting her leg was just her gun holster. During her restless sleep she must have turned over onto her side, the holster and weapon uncomfortably pressing against her flesh. It was nothing more than a bad dream, something that she could wake up from.

Collecting herself she looked around through the darkness, her eyes adjusting to the dim light that shone from a single camping lantern in the kitchen. With others were crammed into the upstairs bedrooms, Carrie and some others had set up for the night in the living room downstairs. All around her was the sound of people sleeping peacefully, the occasional snore breaking the rhythmic breathing in the otherwise quiet room. Still orienting herself somewhat she reached to her left where Judith lay sleeping on a folded up blanket, touching her hand to her daughter's back. It was her breathing that she had been listening to for most of the night, the sound so familiar after months of sharing a room with her, and most often a bed too. On the other side of Judith was Carl, who after many hours of restlessness seemed to have finally fallen asleep.

When she looked to her right she wasn't surprised to find the space beside her empty, that Rick was gone. She had known the moment he lay down beside her that he wasn't going to sleep, that he was too alert and on edge to get any decent rest that night. After their arrival at the safe house and the initial fuss of reuniting with his children, Rick had gone straight into leader mode, checking on things and asking for a full debrief of events. There had been little time for him to take a breather, and when he was confident that he was fully up to speed he had rounded up some volunteers and made their way back to the quarry. The events of the day and his near death hadn't stopped him keeping his promise to Lana…nothing would stop him going to the aid of his people. They didn't return home until after dark, and after delivering the news to Lana and her group he had gone straight on watch. It was approaching midnight before he came inside and collapsed down beside Carrie, having been relieved by someone else taking over the post he manned. She had been glad to have him there, to feel his body behind her and to listen to the sound of his breathing, but she knew that just like she, he wasn't going to sleep much.

Moving slowly so as to not disturb anyone, Carrie sat up and got to her feet. She straightened the light blanket she had been using and then moved her pillow to beside Judith, knowing that she tended to toss and turn when she was unhappy about something. She didn't like not being at home, and had been needy and unsettled all evening, conscious that something was wrong but too young to comprehend it. Carrie checked on her and then Carl before creeping away, going in search of Rick. He had been relieved of his shift and wouldn't have been allowed to take his post again, so she kept her search internal to the house.

A quick search of the downstairs was all she needed to ascertain he wasn't there, and so she crept her way upstairs through the darkness, trying to recall the layout of the safe house that was unfamiliar to her. Reaching the landing upstairs she trailed her hand along the wall to stay oriented, using the dim light from the end of the hall to guide her way. Turning left she passed by one of the bedrooms where Michonne, Maggie and Herschel were sleeping, and then to the master bedroom crammed full of people, the large bed accomodating all of the surviving children. Stretched out on the floor were the adults, some sleeping on inflatable mattresses while others slept on the floor like Carrie.

The other bedroom accommodated their makeshift Infirmary, Denise's patients crammed in as comfortably and safely as possible. Tara sat on the bay window keeping watch of the patients while Denise slept by her feet, her glasses askew of her face as she rested after her hardest day on the job thus far. Scott slept fitfully on a single bed in the far corner, a few others with injuries sleeping on inflatable mattresses nearby. There was one in particular that caught Carrie's attention, that made her linger there in the doorway for a few moments.

Wide awake, Lana sat on her mattress with her back against the wall, her head tilted to the left as she looked up. Having once been a child's bedroom glow in the dark stars adorned the ceiling, and it seemed they had captured her attention for the immediate future. Watching her for a moment Carrie recalled the gut wrenching moment that Rick and the others had arrived back from the quarry, bearing the news Lana's group hadn't wanted to hear. The car Sonja and Vetor had been in had tumbled to the bottom of the quarry, and with binoculars all they could tell was that the wreckage contained ravaged human remains, and a lot of them. There hadn't been enough time for them to go all the way down, dusk was approaching and there were Walkers still lingering…they were going back in the morning to be sure.

When Rick's group arrived back from the quarry without Sonya and Vetor there was no need for them to ask, and all the rest of them could do was wait in silence for Rick and Mitchell to go upstairs to the Infirmary to tell Lana. She had been inconsolable with grief, her guttural howl of misery heard all through the safe house, a reaction that was quickly shared by Mina. It was this visceral acknowledgement of grief that seemed to have a knock on effect to the others who occupied the safe house, and for the first time it seemed they finally understood the notion that they had come under attack that day, that their people had died.

Hours later and all was quiet, and physically unable to go to the quarry and verify it herself Lana was forced to accept that she was powerless, that there was nothing she could do. After her motorcycle accident she must have experienced the greatest adrenaline surge of her life, for not only had she managed to sprint all the way back to Alexandria she had fought the Wolves, she had fought against Walkers. It wasn't until the danger had truly passed that her injuries began making themselves known, and within half an hour she was unable to walk. When they arrived at the safe house Aaron had to carry her up the stairs, her body too weak and her injuries extensive. She was being treated for deep tissue bruising and a suspected broken arm, not to mention grazing her arms, leg and side when she hit the asphalt. When Carrie had gone in search of Rick that afternoon she had seen the tattered motorcycle abandoned in the middle of the road. Given what was left of it, Lana was incredibly lucky to be alive.

To her embarrassment she realised that Lana had looked over at her, that she had seen her standing there watching her. As she felt her cheeks redden she frowned at Lana's expression, though she should have expected the blank stare she had become so familiar with. Despite the usual strength of mind and character she possessed, tonight Lana looked irrevocably broken, her eyes devoid of all hope. Though no one had been rude enough to intrude, everyone in Alexandria knew that she was desperately in love with Vetor, and that it was unrequited. Hell, her love for him had been rubbed in her face…though he didn't come across as the type, Vetor slept around, Lana being only one of a few. His relationship with the leader of his group had always seemed strained…volatile even.

None of that would matter now that he and Sonja were dead. Death had a strange effect on your reputation, almost as if those left behind forgot about the pain and trauma a person had caused, preferring instead to hang on to anything that could justify their grief. Jessie was a prime example, and Carrie suspected that Lana would be too. It didn't matter how poorly Vetor might have treated her in the past. In death, the man had practically gained Sainthood.

"Do you need anything?" Carrie asked in a low whisper.

Though she was certain Lana had heard her, the offer seemed to fall upon deaf ears. Without a word of acknowledgement Lana turned away and looked back up at the ceiling, the glow of the stars casting an eerie shine over her face. Not resenting the rejection of her assistance, Carrie made eye contact with Tara to see if she needed anything either, and then took her leave. Still going quietly she made her way back down the hallway and passed the mouth of the stairs, approaching the other two doors present. Inside one of them slept Bob, his age and the loss of Natalie affording him the privacy of a bedroom alone. The only other door was to the family bathroom, and suspecting that was where she would find Rick she knocked quietly.

As she suspected she heard his voice from inside, and at his invitation she opened the door and went in. It was pitch dark inside, but in the shadows she could make out a familiar silhouette, one she would recognise anywhere. As she closed the door behind herself she watched as Rick seemed to rifle around in his pockets for something, and when she came closer she caught a whiff of tobacco. He stood by the open window, the lingering scent indicating that he had been in here smoking. Listening carefully she recognised the sound of him unwrapping a stick of gum, and hurriedly too.

"It's okay," she said quietly, though she did take issue with him smoking. She wasn't dumb, and she knew perfectly well that he still enjoyed a cigarette every now and then, but tonight she couldn't care. It was his crux, something he indulged in on only the harder days…given current events she didn't blame him for falling back on the old source of relief.

"The kids alright?" he asked, slipping the stick of gum into his mouth and beginning to chew.

Coming further inside she took a seat on the lid of the toilet. "Yeah. They're sleeping."

"You?"

She paused before answering, giving consideration to his question. "I'm okay," she answered honestly. "You're okay too."

Perhaps reassuring them both, Rick nodded before giving a heavy sigh. Folding his arms across his chest he turned and looked out the window, his jaw moving as he chewed on the gum in a last ditch attempt to rid his breath of incriminating evidence. "I'm going out again tomorrow. I'm leaving just before dawn."

"The quarry?"

"No," he shook his head. "I have to look for people who are still alive. Glenn. Enid. No one's heard from Abraham, Daryl and Sasha either."

"And the chances of me going with you?

He turned and looked at her, and she could hear the short laugh he made under his breath. "I'd strongly oppose that."

Carrie nodded, having expected nothing less. "I figured. It's not you I'd have to convince anyway. I doubt Carl would let me as far as the front door."

This time Rick chuckled properly, and even through the darkness she caught a glimpse of a brief smile on his face. "You're not mad at him? For outing you about the baby?"

"No," she said, though at the time she had been furious. "I'm don't blame him for trying to stop me."

"I don't blame him either. I would have done the same if you wanted to go looking for someone." There was a heavy silence now, Rick's shoulders slumping a little. "That said, I'm glad you did come looking for me."

"Me too," she said after a brief pause. Another few moments of silence passed before she continued. "You know, all day I've just had this feeling…this sense that I knew what to do."

"About what?"

"Everything. When Lana took me to the safe house and told me we should stay, I knew it was the smart thing to do, that it was safest. But I wanted to go home, I wanted to get back to the kids, and thank God I did."

"Because of the Wolves?"

"Yeah," she nodded, glad that he was following. "When I got home Tara was just about to leave, and Carl was asleep on the couch. When things started he didn't wake up at all. If I hadn't gone home when I did, he…" she trailed off now, the words more difficult to verbalise than she first expected. "He wouldn't have woken up. He would have died."

"Why was he sleeping?" Rick enquired, taking the gum from his mouth and throwing it out the window.

"He was in a lot of pain, he'd taken pain killers. You know, the ones that make him a bit woozy."

Rick gave a heavy sigh, raising his good hand to rub his forehead. Until now he had no idea that Carl had been so vulnerable, that had someone not been at home with him he would have fallen victim to the Wolves. It was a confronting truth to learn, particularly after the day they just had.

"Then later, I just knew that I had to look for you," Carrie continued, not wanting Rick to be left with the image of his dead son. "I knew I would find you. Something told me to look near the building estate, to turn right rather than left…and then there you were. I saw you getting out of the truck and trying to make a run for it…and I knew you'd be okay."

"I, err…" Rick began. "I think they call that instinct."

Carrie smiled. "I've never felt that kind of instinct before…I've never felt certain like I did today."

Though he managed to return her smile it was short lived, and all too soon the magnitude of what happened to them that day returned, made worse by the possibilities of how much worse it could have been. He had risked his life by making a run for the RV, he could have succumbed when the Wolves staged their surprise attack or when the herd caught up to him both times. In the silence she replayed the moment she had come across Rick in that building estate, the moment she saw him trying to make a run for it before returning to the truck. In that split second it took him to find safety in the rear tray she had been terrified for him, terrified that he was going to be taken by the herd right in front of her eyes…she could hardly stomach the thought alone.

"Did you hear Lana crying before?" he asked softly, his eyes focused on the dark night outside.

Though the change of subject was equally difficult, she was glad to get her mind of what almost happened to him. "Yes. Everyone heard." Wanting to be closer to him she got to her feet and came over, standing by the window sill with him.

"Mitchell wanted to be the one to tell her, but he couldn't…she knew anyway. The moment we walked in there without them, she knew."

Carrie didn't say anything, not knowing what she could say. There was silence for a minute or so, Rick's brow furrowed as he thought hard. "Mitchell's going back to the quarry in the morning, he wants to check the remains. Lana will want to go with him." He paused and then looked at her now, holding her gaze. "We can't let her."

Carrie raised her eyebrow. "She can hardly stand unassisted, she won't make it to the pavement."

"That won't stop her trying. She wants to go, she wants to see for herself that Vetor's dead…I know what that's like," he said lowly. "You need to keep her here if she tries to leave, okay?"

"Okay."

To her surprise Rick reached over to her now, placing his hand on her upper arm to take and hold her attention. His expression was serious, prompting her to listen intently when he spoke next.

"I know you and Lana have your differences, but I don't think she's had someone looking out for her best interests for a long time. We need to make sure we've got her back, that we're looking out for her."

"We will," she assured him, taking his hand in hers. "But what makes you say that? She's got her group, she's got people watching her back."

Rick didn't answer for a moment, and she could tell he was torn about what he wanted to say. He looked away, avoiding her gaze in favour of the darkness outside. "Between you and me? Vetor calls the shots in that group, and he's never had her best interests at heart. His death is the best thing that could happen to her."

"That's…harsh."

"Harsh, but true. Without him, maybe she's got a chance at some kind of normal life. She's just got to get through it first."

"We'll look out for her," she promised him quietly, knowing that if he brought this up as a concern then it was important. "You seem to have some kind of insight to them. Lana told you all this?"

Rick shook his head. "No. We've had their townhouse under surveillance since the day they got here."

On the inside Carrie groaned, realising she should have suspected. Rick had spied on many people with the listening devices he scavenged from the Georgia supply run, and had never made apology for it either. Carrie hated what he did, that he betrayed the trust of their community, but she had to agree with his caution towards newcomers.

"Are they still under surveillance now?"

"Yes," he answered, and just as she expected it was without remorse. "Their plans were to take advantage of us, to steal from the pantry and armoury before doing a runner. All Vetor's plan…Lana was dead set against it."

"Hence the surveillance?"

"Yes. She managed to talk him out of it after a couple of weeks, but the topic kept coming up. He still wanted to leave. Maybe now we can stop."

"Because Vetor's dead? He was the only one who wanted to leave?"

"No…but he was the only one with the power to convince the others. Like I said, with him gone, maybe she's got a chance at living some kind of normal life."

"I understand," she said, reluctantly agreeing with what he had said. As terrible as it was, it definitely seemed that Lana was going to be better off without Vetor in her life. If what Rick said was true, it seemed Vetor was nothing more than a toxic relationship.

Taking Rick's hand again she entwined their fingers, relishing the simple touch. It was confronting to see him like this, to see him looking weary and defeated, the world beating him down while he struggled to stay afloat. Looking at him now she remembered the look on his face from earlier that day, the way he looked up at her from the back of the truck. It was a confronting reality to know that they had almost lost him that day, that had she been a few minutes slower he wouldn't be there with her. He might have never come back.

Readjusting her grip on his hand, Carrie whispered his name to get his attention, glad when he turned to look at her. For a moment she simply looked at him, unable to comprehend the truth that she had almost lost him. If he had died she would have lost everything…eventually Carl would have gone his own way in life taking his sister with him…her relationship with them would have been at his discretion. While she didn't expect him to ever reject her, she knew it would have never been the same between them had they not had Rick.

"When are we getting married?"

His eyes widened a little, but slowly a look of exasperation came over his face. "Maybe when you finally accept my proposal," he said lightly.

At this Carrie rolled her eyes. "Joking that you'll make a wife out of me is not a marriage proposal."

"So you want the whole production? Dinner for two, ring in the champagne…or in your case, soda?"

Carrie smiled now, but quickly she sobered, not wanting him to get any grand ideas. "No. Just you down on one knee would be nice. That's all. Maybe with that sapphire ring."

He nodded, mouthing **_sapphire_** under his breath and committing her preference to memory. For a few happy moments they revelled in the agreement they had reached, feeling glad to have something positive to hand on to. But despite the lighter moment the magnitude of what happened that day was still there. Everything was hopelessly awful right now. Dozens of their people had died horrible deaths that day, Glenn and Enid were presumed dead, Abraham, Daryl and Sasha were completely out of contact.

"I thought I might die today," he confessed heavily, his voice wavering. "I thought I was going to leave you."

"No," she said quickly, squeezing his hand and taking a step towards him. "No Rick, it didn't happen."

He bowed his head and looked at the floor now, raising his managed hand and pressing it to the space between his eyes. She could hear his sharp intake of breath, the way his shoulders shook as he tried to hold himself together. Bringing him any comfort she could, Carrie moved forward and slipped her arms around him, and he reciprocated without delay. They held one another tightly, Carrie pressing her face into the crook of his neck as she felt the way his body shook, the close call hitting him harder than she realised. He was speaking now, confessing that he thought he'd miss seeing their children grow up, that he would never meet their baby, and she clutched him even tighter at this. The feeling of his body in her arms was the comfort she herself needed, it was the only thing that had reassured her earlier that he was alright, that he had made it.

"We're okay," she whispered softly. "We made it, all of us."

Never relinquishing her embrace Rick pulled back and pressed his forehead against hers. Closing his eyes he breathed slowly, the two of them sharing a breath before sharing a gentle kiss. It was the first they'd had since being reunited that afternoon, having not yet made the time to reconnect with one another, and Carrie never wanted it to end. She didn't care that his breath tasted of tobacco and spearmint gum, that there was still dried Walker guts in her hair and probably in his too. Having longed for this connection she allowed him to deepen what started out as a gentle kiss, raising her hands to caress his neck and brush the hair from his face.

"I love you," he said, not bothering to whisper.

The kiss was broken just long enough for her to return his words, and as if making up for the lost time he kissed her harder now, more languidly. She clutched at him as she felt him moving her back, his good hand cradling the back of her head as he gently pressed her against something hard. It was uncomfortable, and when he took his lips from hers and brought them to her neck instead Carrie opened her eyes, reacquainting herself with her surroundings. Her head made a soft thud when he removed his hand from behind it and allowed it to rest against the tempered glass shower screen, his hand trailing down the side of her neck and then to her waist.

It was overwhelming, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she closed her eyes and felt his touch, grateful to have it despite everything. He slowed a little now, hands on her waist and lips pressed against her neck, his breath warming her skin before he moved, bringing his lips back to hers. She was admittedly surprised when she felt his fingers slipping inside the waistband of her jeans, the way he tentatively moved them around to the button at the front, but he paused there. Gauging her reaction he waited, literally holding his breath until her short nod gave him the go ahead. Thanking her with a gentle kiss to her jaw he opened button and clumsily lowered the zip, but there his hand lingered, fingers pressed against her lower belly. She wondered if he was hesitating, no longer feeling the need that compelled him towards sex, or if he was thinking about their baby. His confession that he thought he was going to die wasn't lost on her, it had hit them both hard.

While he hesitated Carrie stepped back, placing her hand over his so he would know she wasn't saying no. Instead she cautiously made her way to the bathroom door and fumbled to find the door handle, finding the small knob and turning it to engage the lock. Privacy was difficult to come by in a house filled to the brim with people, they needed to ensure they got to keep it. While she was there she took a deep breath, acquainting herself with the change of pace, with the sudden turn towards sex. But it didn't take her long to know that she was okay with this, even with how quickly it had developed. Though her eyes had adjusted it was still dark in the bathroom, and so she allowed him to remove his duty belt, to set his gun down somewhere safe while she did the same with her own gun and holster. Only when their weapons had been set aside did they return to one another, Carrie relishing the touch of his hands on her waist, of the hurried way he started pushing her jeans down.

It was clumsy and inelegant, the two of them fumbling around in the dark trying to undress, and any other time she knew they would have been laughing, making fun of one another. Some of the best sex they'd ever had was when their hearts were light and spirits high, when they teased and laughed between themselves, joyful to be together. But tonight all she heard was the sound of their impatient breaths, the small huffs that came when she struggled with his jeans, her fingernail catching on the denim and tearing a little. He wasn't even hard when she put her hand around him, his penis soft as she started stroking just the way he liked. For a minute she wondered if this was all a non-starter, if after everything that had happened that day he couldn't separate his mind from his body. But finally something happened, his body catching up and responding to her touch.

Some adjustments and patience were required, and though they had time to waste they rushed a little, but she was glad to have him inside her as quickly as she did. Seated on the edge of the bathroom counter her legs awkwardly hung around his waist, the cold water knob digging into her hip with every gentle thrust inside her, but she didn't care. She had him there with her, his breath hot against her neck and his hand on her breast. It was everything she wanted in that moment, perfect even though she knew she wasn't going to reach orgasm that night. What she needed was affirmation that everything was alright, a true physical reassurance that she hadn't lost him, that the worst hadn't yet happened. Rick was still there with her, inside her body and all around it, the feeling of him holding her more comforting that just seeing him. He had come so close to his death, she had rescued him from the brink…but seeing hadn't been enough.

Rick lowered his hand from her breast, his breathing short and heavy as he reached down between them to where their bodies were joined. She let him do as he pleased, but although she appreciated the effort she knew it wasn't going to have any effect, not tonight. Any other time it would have worked, they had learnt together how best to help the other reach climax, and though his fingers stroked the right places and varied the angle of his hips against hers, she stopped him. A gentle tug moved his hand back to her breast as she turned her head to seek out his lips, longing for the type of kiss that would make her head spin, but he got all the wrong signals.

"No, don't," she whispered hurriedly, her heart falling when he pulled away and tried to step back. "Rick…it's okay."

He looked at her questioningly, already lowering himself down with his hands on her knees to hold them apart. She understood his confusion, knowing he didn't understand why she wouldn't want this, and she reached forward to grasp the collar of his shirt. Rougher than she meant to be she pulled him back towards her and brought their lips together, getting the kiss she had longed for only moments ago. Getting her signals now he followed her lead, waiting only until she had moved over to avoid the cold water knob before entering her again. He understood now what she was telling him and this time he didn't hold back, her hands clutching at his hips and compelling him to keep going, to not stop. When she recognised his signals, the way his shoulders tensed and his breathing hitched, Carrie brought her lips close to his, feeling his breath on her face as he came closer and closer to his release. A poorly stifled groan left his throat as his body began to shudder, so she quickly brought their lips together and kissed him, hiding the sound.

When he reached his climax his head fell forward onto her shoulder, his jaw clenched and lips pressed together as he tried to hold back any sound. He did so admirably, and Carrie didn't even have to put her hand over his mouth like she did on the nights they risked waking Judith. Instead she kept her arms draped around him, and as his urgent thrusts lazily slowed down she reached her hand into his hair. It was slightly damp with perspiration, as were his shoulders, but that didn't stop her dragging her fingers through his hair, glad that he was making no move to break away now that it was over. Instead he stayed where he was, breathing softly as his heart rate eased, enjoying the shiver her hand in his hair sent down his spine.

In those quiet moments Carrie felt herself properly relaxing for the first time in hours, all day in fact. She allowed herself to let her guard down, conscious of the new feeling slowly spreading through her body. She felt peaceful now, content. They'd come so close to losing everything that day, but they hadn't. Just like always they had come through adversity and reached the other side, still together despite everything. In the back of her mind she suspected Rick didn't quite share her feelings on this, that he was still in the survival mindset. For that matter she was too, not naive enough to let her guard down completely…but soon he too would see that they had survived this again, that there was a reason to be hopeful.

They cleaned up as best they could, and then a little while later emerged into the dark hallway outside. Glad to find that all was still silent they walked hand in hand downstairs together, and to her surprise Rick gave no protest when she asked him to lay down with her. She had expected he might prefer to go on watch, to stand by one of the windows looking outside, another set of eyes protecting them from danger. But he did as she asked, first straightening the light blanket over Carl before wearily laying down on the floor, trying to get comfortable on the folded up blanket that was his bed. Judith had moved off her blanket at some stage during Carrie's absence, and before she lay down she carefully moved her back on, straightening her clothes and checking that she was warm enough.

Satisfied that Judith was fine, Carrie resisted the urge to kiss her on the forehead and instead laid down next to Rick. He lay on his back looking up at the ceiling, but his arm was out at his side waiting for her, and she gladly took the invitation. Moving onto her side she laid her head against his shoulder, stretching her arm across his stomach and feeling the way it rose and fell with each breath. They didn't say anything, perhaps not feeling there was anything left to say, and so with that Carrie closed her eyes in the hope of getting a little more sleep.

* * *

Against his will Rick could feel his eyes drifting shut, and it was becoming harder and harder to keep them open.

With Bobby at the wheel of the car and his coffee not yet helping, Rick had to force himself to keep his eyes open as he travelled in the front passenger seat, trying not to let his head loll back. The steady rumble of the engine was the perfect sound to put him to sleep, making it harder for him to stay awake and complete the job he was out there for. He needed to be at his best today, for not only were people depending on him to help them there were more Walkers about than usual, an unlucky result of the herd having passed through this area. Without the Alexandrian's to keep them in one neat line the herd had broken apart little by little, their general dispersement making it easier for them to get distracted and start wandering off.

Their first point of action on that morning's journey had to go by Alexandria, to get close enough to their home to make clear radio contact with Spencer. They were a few miles away when they heard his voice responding to them, reassuring them that he was okay before warning them not to come any closer. By now the main body of the herd had passed through Alexandria's open gates, but in its wake remained the stragglers, hundreds of Walkers inside and outside the walls that hadn't quite dispersed. It was going to be one hell of an effort to get them cleared and restore their community, but it wasn't a task they were yet ready to tackle. Today there were more pressing issues, such as the members of their community who were unaccounted for.

Gulping down his coffee Rick kept his eyes peeled as they approached the small town where Glenn and Nicholas were last seen, where they had separated with the hope of lighting a fire. With Bobby at the wheel and Tara and Michonne in the back they were a small search party, but they would have to be enough for now. They needed to leave as much strength back at the safe house as possible, particularly with the children and so many injured back there. There was no telling if there were any more Wolves in the vicinity, if they were all dead or simply laying low in the woods, waiting to strike again.

He hated to leave, particularly after what had happened yesterday, but he absolutely had to. His people were still out here, alone and possibly hurt…possibly dead. Glenn hadn't been seen since he and Nicholas split from the group to make a fire, Enid having made a run for it after the Wolves attacked. Just to remind him how bad things could potentially get, Daryl, Abraham and Sasha were also unaccounted for. They ought to be finished by now, back in radio contact with them yesterday evening, but no one had heard a word from them. Closer to the roads they would have taken the herd down, Carol at the other safe house had already departed with a group of her own to start looking, and in a few hours Tobin would lead another search party too. They were covering as much ground as possible, they were doing everything they could…not that it made it any easier on their spirits.

When he faced the prospect of getting up that morning, Rick struggled to actually do it. His head was telling him to get up, to go to the aid of people whose lives might be depending on him, but instead he wanted only to lay there. He hadn't slept the previous night, not even after making love with Carrie and laying down beside her. While she had slowly fallen asleep he had laid awake, looking up at the ceiling and listening, just waiting for something to happen. As dawn drew nearer he heard others rousing, the alarm on Bobby's watch reminding them about their planned early departure, but still Rick didn't want to move.

"You coming, or staying?"

Michonne stood over him as she quietly whispered those words, nudging him with her foot when he didn't immediately respond. It was the question he had been dreading since Bobby's alarm went off ten minutes prior, the one whose answer he wasn't entirely sure of. He knew that he could say no, that no one would hold it against him if he couldn't bring himself to get up from the lumpy blanket that was his makeshift bed…but he would. He thought of Glenn, picturing him out there in peril, Maggie's husband, the father of her son. Other people beside Rick were going out there to look, but he couldn't let them go alone. He had to be there looking for him too. He owed Glenn at least that, and so much more.

 ** _Rest in peace. Now get up and go to war._**

Many times his grandfather's words felt painfully appropriate, and it was true for that morning too. It was those words that rang through his head as he slowly moved Carrie out of his embrace, those words that empowered him to get up even as she turned over and hugged Judith to her chest. He didn't want to leave her that morning, to leave his children behind, but he forced himself to. As he left he thought about what Carrie had told him last night, that she'd never felt instincts like those she had felt yesterday. She had listened to her gut, she had been there to protect their family, to protect him. Today it was his turn to remember his instincts, for even as it pained him to leave again, he knew it was the right move.

"Woah, hey!" Tara exclaimed, slapping her palms against the rear window. "Bobby, stop! I saw someone."

The change of pace was abrupt, tearing Rick from his thoughts and rousing him just as his eyes began drifting closed again. As Bobby slammed on the brakes he threw his hands out to the dashboard to brace himself, dropping his coffee and watching it spill across the console as the car came to a rough stop. In spite of that hope bloomed inside of him - what had Tara seen? Who?

"Where?" he demanded, already bursting out of the car and drawing his machete.

Faster than him Tara had already taken off running back the way they had come, leaving Rick and Michonne to simply follow. Exchanging a loaded glance with one another they quickly instructed Bobby to keep the radio close before they gave chase, quickly catching up with Tara as she reached the mouth of an alleyway.

"Glenn?" she called out urgently, her face falling when she looked down the alleyway. "I-I saw him go down here," she insisted, already making her way down and looked at the buildings on either side of her. There were three doors in close proximity, and all three of them were wide open. "Glenn!"

"I'm going up," Michonne decided, holstering her katana and effortlessly leaping for the ladder of a fire escape. Swinging her legs for momentum she managed to pull herself up a couple of rungs, using her feet against the wall to make it the rest of the way. She reached the first landing and then bolted for the stairs and began to ascend. "Keep looking, I have a radio!"

Following her lead Rick and Tara set off down the alleyway, briefly looking inside each of the open doors and calling out Glenn's name before continuing on. All they had to do was spread out and make themselves heard. If he was out here he would hear them.

"Oh shit," Tara muttered when they reached the end of the alley, faced with a choice of two separate directions to take. "Split up?"

It was a bad idea to split up like this outside the walls, one's survival so often dependant on someone else having your back, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Nodding, Rick pointed her in the direction that lead out to clear space and took the other himself, not caring that he couldn't see where the alleyway would lead him. Only vaguely familiar with this small town he ran the risk of becoming lost, but he tried not to think about that too much, reassured that he had his group around should he need them.

"Michonne? Anything?" he asked over the radio.

"Nothing yet."

"Glenn!" he yelled out, banging his fists against every door and window as he ran past them. "Glenn!"

He swung the machete at a Walker that appeared in the threshold of a doorway, taking it down with ease before briefly stepping inside the building and calling out again. Upon hearing nothing he ran down the rest of the alley and emerged back into another street where he lingered for a few moments, still calling out Glenn's name. Frustrated and anxious he turned to his left and went down to the next corner, making sure he stuck to the same street block where Tara had seen him. It was down a small driveway that he saw the body of one of their own, lifelessly slumped against a gate halfway down. Able to hear Michonne and Tara still calling out, he slowly made his way down the driveway and came across David's remains, his stomach twisting when he saw that he wasn't completely lifeless after all. At his approach David began to move, the familiar snarl of the Walkers like a knife twisting inside of him.

As if it was kinder than the machete, Rick drew his pocket knife and used that to put David down, swiftly thrusting it under the back of his skull to put him out of his misery. Holstering both of his blades he looked up at the gate and then looped his fingers through the chain link metal, ignoring the pain that stemmed from the stitches in his left hand. Knowing they would come back to retrieve David's remains when the time was right, Rick climbed the fence and clambered over to the top, briefly losing his footing when he reached the other side. Getting back to his feet he managed to jog down to the other end of the drive way before entering the building on his right, frustrated with his slow progress.

"I see him," Michonne called over the radio, her triumphant shout echoing around the quiet town. "Tara, turn around and go back the way you came. Rick, where are you?"

Bursting out of the abandoned bakery he stumbled onto the street outside, searching for a street sign. "Fourth street," he gasped down the radio, trying to catch his breath. "Fourth and Wembley."

"Stay there," she instructed. "He might be coming your way."

Doing as instructed, Rick took a deep breath as he made his way to the corner he had described, coming to a stand still in the middle of the road's intersection. "Glenn!" he yelled, repeating the call until he was hoarse.

He turned around on the spot and looked for signs of life, listening as Michonne gave instructions to Tara and Bobby, telling them where to go too. But barely had she relayed this to them did the person in question appear out of no where, barely fifty yards up the street and running for his life.

"Glenn!" Rick called, his heart soaring in elation as he took off after him. "Glenn, stop!"

To his relief Glenn seemed to hear him and wildly staggered to a stop, looking around and searching for the person that had called his name. When he saw Rick approaching his shoulders seemed to slump, and he hesitated before taking a few steps in his direction.

"Maggie?" he called out in question, his voice hoarse and strained. "Is sh-"

"They're okay," he called back, wanting to make that clear for him, to reassure him that his family was okay. "Everyone is - hey! Glenn!"

The moment Rick gave the reassurance that Maggie and Herschel were okay, Glenn turned on his heel and started running again, forcing him to resume chase in sheer confusion.

"What is he doing?" Michonne questioned in dismay, suddenly falling into step by his side. "Glenn! Wait!"

Looking thoroughly impatient with them both, Glenn reluctantly slowed to a stop and then waited for them, allowing them a brief glimpse of his state. He was covered in what could only be Walker guts, his clothing disheveled and his face pallid and grey, eyes puffy with exhaustion. Despite this he showed no sign of wanting to find safety, to take the opportunity to rest and recover, and he simply looked at them urgently as they raced to catch up to him.

"We thought you were dead," Michonne exclaimed. "Quit playing around!"

"Enid!" he yelled at them, his fists clenched as he started backing away before breaking into another run. "Enid's out here!"

Unable to believe their luck, Rick turned to Michonne. "Two birds, one stone."

Nodding in agreement, she took a deep breath before pointing him in the direction of her choice. "You know what she's like out here," she said, breaking into a run as she set off after Glenn. "Look **_everywhere_**."

Knowing all too well how swift Enid could be, Rick set off in the direction Michonne instructed, allowing her to go with Glenn and provide him with backup. In minutes their group in addition to Glenn had spread out in search of Enid, covering as much ground as possible in the direction she had fled. While Michonne went back to the roof tops and Bobby stayed in the car, Glenn, Tara and Rick stayed on foot and searched, doing their best to stay in contact with one another.

In minutes he found himself approaching the small community park, giving a wide birth to a fountain whose water was stagnant and foul smelling. Slowing to a stop he sought the shade of one of the trees in order to recover, taking a sip of the water from his satchel as he took a moment to reassess, to look around for a moment. His surroundings were still but for the shuffle of the Walkers that lingered around, having not yet noticed him, but even them he stopped to consider. At a distance a Walker could easily be mistaken for a slow moving person, particularly one who was trying to blend in with them. But they were all the dead, of that much he was certain.

As he slipped the water back into his satchel he brushed a fallen leaf from the back of his neck and prepared to move on, but it was then that realisation came over him. Conscious that when it came to Enid they needed to look everywhere, he raised his gaze to the tree above him and then broke into a smile. Of all the trees for him to stop beneath to seek shade, it just had to be the one that Enid sought refuge in. She was sitting a couple of branches up, glowering down at him with a sour expression when she realised that she had been discovered. **_What were the chances_** **?**

"Hey, Enid," he panted, pressing his finger to the button on the radio so that the others could hear him speaking to her. "You going to come down from there?"

"Nope."

Despite her terse refusal, she actually descended a couple of branches to the lowest one, looking perfectly comfortable manoeuvring around high up in the tree. As she came down and settled on the lowest branch he took a few moments to scrutinise her, glad to see that she looked unharmed…hell, she even looked well rested. She was adequately dressed for the world out here, and had a back pack full of supplies at her disposal, yet despite her skill and ability to survive Rick was not going to let her leave Alexandria.

"So you were just going to leave then, huh?" he questioned.

"Yep." Settled now she swung her legs aimlessly beneath herself, avoiding eye contact with him.

"You weren't going to say goodbye? Not to Carl? Not to Maggie? I know you've been close with her since Hershel was born."

"It's better this way."

"Not for us it's not," he rebuked her, exercising his patience. As silence fell between them he listened as the radio crackled to life, feeling his stomach unclenching when he heard the sound of Daryl's voice.

"Hey Rick," he began, his voice sounding clear as day. "You close by, huh? Where are yah?"

Not taking his eyes off of Enid for even a second, Rick fumbled with the radio and removed it from his duty belt. He smiled as he raised it to his mouth and answered, having never been so glad to hear Daryl's voice. "We're in Atwell Grove, just a few miles from home. I'm talking Enid down from a tree."

At this Enid rolled her eyes. "I'm not coming down. I'm not going back there."

"Why not?" he asked impatiently, not responding to Daryl's advice that they were less than a minute away. "Is something wrong with the roof over your head there?"

"No."

From the corner of his eye he saw Michonne, Glenn and Tara approaching, walking at a comfortable pace now that they knew Enid was safe. "Are you being mistreated?" he asked now, taking on a more serious tone. "Is something going on that I need to know about?"

"No."

"Then why are you leaving? For me to let you go, I'm going to need a very compelling reason."

"I just am!" she said angrily, looking down at him in outrage. She huffed to herself, raising her gaze and looking anywhere but at him. "I'm not staying there, I don't…"

"You don't what?"

Enid's face had fallen, her lips parted and eyes wide with surprise as she looked out across the town. Looking frightened she fumbled with her right hand to grab ahold of the branch above her, nervously bringing her feet up and moving into a low crouch. "Oh my God," she gasped, her voice wavering. "D-do you see that?" she exclaimed, pointing east.

"See what?" he asked, turning to look in that direction. At this he drew his machete, worried about what she could see from her position higher up. Was it the herd? Had it somehow managed to regroup and go back in the direction it originally came? "Enid, what do you see?"

There was a rustle behind him followed by a thud, and then Glenn was calling out to him in urgency. Turning around with his machete raised Rick prepared to defend himself, already backing away from the impending threat, but it wasn't himself he ought to be concerned about. Having played him like a fool Enid had leapt from the lowest branch and made a run for it, bolting in the opposite direction in her final attempt to get away from them. With an angry growl Rick slid his machete back into the holster and then took off after her, furious that he had been duped.

"Enid, stop!"

"Go away!" she shrieked, her hair streaming out behind her as she fled. "Leave me alone!"

With her heavy back pack slowing her down Rick managed to catch up with her quickly, seizing a fistful of her jacket and calmly hauling her to a stop. In an instant she was struggling against him, her hands flailing and pushing him away, fingernails digging into his face and neck as she tried to fight him off. Completely taken aback Rick pulled away as much as he could, holding her only by the jacket while he waited for the others to catch up, but she didn't stop.

"Enid, enough!" he said firmly, deflecting her blows with his forearm. "Stop!"

As her window of opportunity closed she struggled even harder, landing her elbow into the pit of his stomach, an uncomfortable blow that had nothing on what came next. As the others closed in and her panic grew she lashed out with her foot, a hard kick from her boot getting him right in the groin and knocking all the sense out of him. In the first horrible moment he tried to brace himself for the pain, but when it hit him all at once he sank to his knees with a strangled groan. White hot agony seared through his body, cruelly twisting his insides until he was sure to be sick, spots appearing in his eyes and blinding him. Though he maintained his vice grip on the back of her jacket, Enid slipped it from her shoulders and abandoned it along with her backpack, and then she fled.

"Rick!" Tara gasped, rushing to his side while Michonne and Glenn went after Enid. "Oh man, she got you?"

Managing a nod of affirmation, Rick raised his head as the spots cleared from his vision, and in the midst of his pain he was glad to see that the others had caught up with Enid, and that she was no longer fighting them. Instead she was being escorted back by Glenn and Michonne's firm grasp of each elbow, scowling at them the entire time. Glenn was berating her with every step, demanding an explanation that it seemed she wasn't going to give.

 ** _That little brat_** , Rick thought to himself uncharitably, glaring at Enid. He was going to have some very strong words with whoever taught her self-defence…probably Rosita. God, how had he forgotten how badly this hurt?

"Tara, maybe give him some space," Bobby said sympathetically, appearing in his peripheral vision. "Let the man catch his breath."

As if he needed to hear that very word to be able to do it, Rick released a slow breath as the overwhelming urge to throw up began to recede. The pain had not yet eased, his insides still feeling like someone had seized a fistful of them, but the simple intake of oxygen was helping somewhat. Still kneeling on the ground, for he knew better than to get up too quickly, he watched on in mild satisfaction as Glenn and Enid argued no holds barred.

"No. No!" he shouted at her. Though he had released her arm he was getting right in her face, abandoning his usual gentle nature. "Have your temper tantrum. Yell and scream and cry, and then get over it! You're coming back with us."

"You can't make me," Enid growled at them all, lunging towards her backpack until Michonne grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back upright. "Let me go! You can't make me go back!"

"You are a part of Alexandria!" Glenn insisted. "Whether you like it or not, you're family."

"I'm not!"

"You change just as many diapers as I do!"

"That's not true!"

"It is! You're one of us, Enid. You're our family."

"I'm leaving!" she declared, becoming increasingly upset when it became clearer that no one was going to side with her. "You can't make me stay."

Taking a shallow breath Rick managed to get to his feet, though he took it easy as he slowly stood. Still remaining a little hunched over, he looked Enid in the eye and tried to forget about the horrendous agony she had just inflicted.

"You're family," he said, his voice strained. "We are not letting you leave."

"Don't you deny that we're your family," Glenn added. "You're at our place more often than Michonne, and she actually lives there. You empty the dishwasher, you eat dinner with us, you stay the night and make me watch chick flicks with you and Maggie. I make pancakes in the morning!"

Enid narrowed her eyes, looking furious that he was bringing all that up. "No one asked you to make me pancakes."

"No one made you eat them! But someone did make me watch The Princess Bride, and that was you."

"You loved The Princess Bride!" she accused.

"Yeah, I did," he admitted, imploring her to understand. "Don't you get it? I loved it because you made me watch it…you're our family, Enid. You're family to everyone here. You don't get to walk away from that!"

There was a heavy silence now, Enid's eyes wild and alight with determination to win, to get away from the people who so clearly cared about and loved her. As the silence stretched on for a moment Rick looked around, managing a small sigh of relief when he saw the approach of people coming their way. He immediately recognised their silhouettes as Daryl, Abraham and Sasha, and there was a moment where he could feel the sheer relief of discovering that they were alright, and then his heart sank. It wasn't just them…Vetor was with them too, Vetor who had supposedly died at the quarry.

"I'm just doing what everyone else does," Enid claimed, trying to negate the impact she and the Rhee family had one one another. "Because of the baby. Everyone helps you guys out."

"That's not how it feels to us," Glenn insisted, begging her to understand. "You're our family. We want you to come home."

There wasn't the opportunity for Enid to respond to this, for the arrival of the others drew the attention away from her, leaving just she and Glenn to continue talking it through. Taking a few cautious steps, Rick slowly made his way towards Daryl, Abraham, Sasha and Vetor, immensely glad to see that they were alright, though it was clear they'd been through an order. He spared a quick embrace for each of them, wincing when he saw the wound Daryl had sustained to the back of his shoulder, but then he turned his attention to Vetor. He seemed to be covered in a fine layer of dust from the quarry, and although he had washed his face at some stage rivulets of wet dust had dried on his jaw and neck, clumps of dirt stuck in his dark hair.

"Sonya?" he asked in trepidation, not daring to get his hopes up. As he expected, Vetor shook his head.

"I only just made it," he said heavily, his torment clearly displayed on his features. "We were in the car when the truck fell, and we decided to make a run for it. She hesitated at the last minute…I didn't."

"We found him wandering the road on our way back home," Abraham added. "Picked him up about half an hour ago."

Looking at the odd uniform he was wearing, Rick frowned and gestured to it. "Do I even want to know?"

At this Abraham beamed, the look of delight on his face completely at odds with everything else that had happened recently. "I had a good day," he said proudly, straightening the lapels on the jacket. "Don't I look like a prized piece of man candy?"

"If you had a good day, then what was the hold up?" Rick questioned, turning to Daryl and Sasha. "We were expecting you back last night, we haven't heard a word from any of you."

"We had ** _a day_** ," Sasha said heavily, contradicting Abraham's response. "We were about to leave the herd and we drove straight into an ambush. They fired on us, and we got separated from Daryl overnight."

"Who was it?" he questioned in alarm.

"We don't know, but they weren't out there looking for us. They were chasing down some defectors."

"Fucking pricks," Daryl cursed bitterly, a cigarette hanging from his lips. "You lend a hand to someone, and they'll fucking take your arm."

"They stole his crossbow and bike," Sasha explained, telling the whole group who were her captive audience. "Left him stranded and made a run for it."

"They weren't even the' worst of it," Daryl muttered, turning around and showing Rick the smear of red blood on his jacket again. "More o' them pricks turned up this mornin'. Tried to pull some shit on us."

"Ten or so wannabe bikies," Abraham smirked. "Wanted to have us take them back to Alexandria."

"They would have killed us," Sasha said darkly, making a point of reminding Abraham of the seriousness of what they faced. "Except Daryl-"

"Daryl took them out with the motherlode of a grenade launcher," Abraham loudly declared, grinning at him in pride. "A grenade launcher courtesy of my efforts, thank you very much."

At this Rick felt himself swaying a little, wondering if perhaps Enid had kicked him harder than he first thought. A grenade launcher? He frowned at them, trying his hardest to connect the dots and make sense of it all. Vetor was alive, defectors from another group, Daryl robbed of his crossbow and motorcycle, a gang of wannabe bikies…and now a grenade launcher.

"You look like you need a drink," Sasha said lightly.

"It's not all bad," Tara implored, coming forward eagerly. "I mean, Rick…"

"What?"

"Tell them," she whispered excitedly. "Come on, after their day they could use a pick me up."

"Tell us what?" Glenn asked, now hanging onto Enid lest she made another attempt to flee. "Rick?"

"Yeah," Sasha smiled as though she already had an inkling. "Tell us what?"

Sighing, for this really wasn't the time, Rick did as he was asked. "Carrie and I are having a baby. She's pregnant."

Just as Tara had hoped, this news served as an immediate pick me up to the entire group, even to those like Michonne who had already heard. There was a flurry of congratulations from all of them, even Enid managing to crack what looked like a genuine smile.

"Good gracious, Ignatius," Abraham smiled, sounding strangely proud of him as he clapped him on the shoulder. "You stuck a bun in her oven, didn't you? You stud."

"We knew it," Sasha beamed, looking at him in delight. "Didn't we know it, Abraham?"

"We knew it."

At this Daryl scoffed, waving his hand at them dismissively. "Please, I knew before all o' yahs."

"Oh did you now?" Rick challenged, interested to hear this.

"It's Blondie we're talkin' about," he shrugged, finishing the last of his cigarette. "Why else would she quit drinking, huh? **_Health kick_** my ass."

"We did think that was odd," Glenn acknowledged, congratulating Rick with a pat on the shoulder. "Rosita was complaining about no more Tequila Tuesdays."

Managing a smile in spite of everything else, Rick thanked them. "Come on, we need to get you all to a safe house," he said, looking to Glenn and Vetor. "And that includes you, Enid," he added, making a point of looking at her. "You're coming home. Don't argue."

Though she was the only one who seemed affronted by this instruction, she wasn't faced with much of a choice, not given the way Glenn began escorting her in the direction of their cars. Eager to return Maggie's husband to her, the group flocked towards the small station wagon that Bobby had parked nearby, whereas Rick and Daryl lingered behind a little. A little further up the street was a large green truck he didn't recognise, what must have been Daryl's mode of transport given his bike had been stolen from him.

"Why do I get this feelin' you weren't so happy to see Vetor?" Daryl questioned, the two of them well out of earshot of the others.

"Because I wasn't," he admitted lowly, thinking of what he had told Carrie last night. Lana was better off without Vetor, she would have a chance to live a normal life without him breathing down her neck at every turn. But Vetor had survived the quarry, he had made it to safety…it was what it was.

"Everyone okay back home?"

Rick hesitated before answering, not knowing what to say. "It was the Wolves…they finally showed up. We're okay though."

He didn't need to clarify what he meant by **_we_** , for there was the unspoken understanding among their group of who mattered the most."

"Carol?" Daryl confirmed urgently. "The kids?"

"All okay…we lost a lot though. Deanna and Reg, Jessie and her boys. Holly, Richards…"

Swearing under his breath, Daryl slowed to a stop and watched on as the rest of the group divided themselves among the two vehicles, Glenn, Enid and Michonne cramming themselves into the trunk of the hatchback while the others took seats up front. With them sorted, Abraham waved his hand to Daryl and Rick before gesturing to the truck further down the road, telling them the follow him. From the corner of his eye Rick watched as Vetor wearily sank down into the back passenger seat, feeling somewhat annoyed that he had survived after all.

"You want?" Daryl asked, halfway to the truck now.

Seeing that he was offering a drag of his next cigarette, Rick gratefully accepted, noting by the signs on the truck's exterior that they ought to finish it before getting close. Back down the road the hatchback's engine had started, but per their usual protocol they didn't depart until they were all ready, and instead waited patiently.

"You drive," Daryl requested, tossing the keys to Abraham.

As he climbed the side steps and entered the main cabin, Rick found himself wincing uncomfortably, still feeling a residual ache in his lower abdomen. When he slumped down onto the centre of the seat he closed his eyes and put his head back, willing the ache to subside.

"What's wrong with you?" Abraham asked, slamming the door shut before Daryl did the same on his side.

"Enid. She didn't go quietly."

Abraham and Daryl both winced at this, immediately understanding. "She got yah, huh?" Daryl teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"She got me," Rick agreed, opening his eyes and looking at him. "And they got you."

"Nah," he shook his head as the engine roared to life. Kicking back he put his muddy boots up onto the dash. "I got them."

"A grenade launcher. Did I hear that right?"

Daryl grinned. "It's in back. It was fuckin' beautiful man. One minute these pricks were there, next minute they weren't."

"Mighty efficient," Abraham commented as they hit the road, following the hatchback in front. "You're welcome by the way."

Appreciating a swift disposal as much as the next man, Rick had to agree. "Where did this happen? How close to home?"

"Not even ten miles," Daryl said darkly. As he spoke he was picking at his finger nails, scratching his skin. "They didn't seem to know where were from though. Wanted us to take 'em there."

"Good," Rick muttered, glad that they didn't know.

"You ever heard the name Negan?" Abraham asked, all jokes aside now. "Ever?"

"No. Who's he?"

"That's the name they dropped. Said everything we have now belongs to Negan."

"I've never heard of him…we should ask the others at home, they may have."

"Yeah, well," Daryl started, still picking at his fingernails. "I reckon we gonna hear about him again one day. All that effort to rob a couple strangers…these pricks know what they're doin'."

Still trying to take all of this in, Rick cast his eyes out on the open road, wishing he knew what lay ahead for them. "Yeah, I think you're probably right."

* * *

A/N Hey Readers - so we're now up to Chapter 20, and embarking on a new stage of the story! Without spoiling, there's going to be a slight time jump and a whole new set of problems (but definitely not the problems you're expecting right now!). I love where I've taken this story, and I love the future chapters and story lines that we'll be getting in to.

A huge thanks to my reviewers, thanks so much guys - your reviews are my payment! The reviews and your enjoyment are what compels me to keep writing and getting this story out of my head rather than letting it stay up there :-) Thanks a bunch!


	20. Chapter 20

_Thursday November 20_

It was early morning when Carrie roused, feeling a familiar fluttering in her stomach that used to alarm her. As she slowly blinked she moved onto her side and brought her legs up to her chest, the motion enhancing the sensation she could feel inside her. For a few happy moments she laid there and enjoyed it, her finger tips brushing over her belly until disappointingly, it all stopped. Still half asleep, Carrie snuggled up against Rick beside her and looked to the space beside his bed, the space that was until recently occupied by Judith's crib. At this thought Carrie raised her head and looked around the bed, wondering if Judith had managed to sneak in to their bed in the middle of the night like she sometimes did. She had taken to her new bedroom quite well, but still enjoyed sneaking into their bedroom at all hours of the night, even if she was interrupting certain activities.

Beside her, a small rumble came from inside Rick's throat, the small snore that must have woken her that morning. She gave his head a gentle nudge, hoping it would stop him, but when it came again she rolled back onto her other side and tried to ignore it. A little while later she roused again when she felt him moving behind her, and a sleepy smile crossed her face when she felt him turning over, the sheets and blankets moving in sync. Then he was there warming her back, his arm lazily sliding around her waist and his hand coming to rest on the swell of her belly. Comfortable now, he pressed a kiss to the back of her shoulder and then lay his head back down, taking a few moments to enjoy the time to laze around in bed. In the background they could hear sounds coming from the kitchen, Judith's sweet voice yelling something indicating that Carl had gotten her out of bed.

"Good morning," he murmured a few minutes later, the sound of activity downstairs too great to ignore.

"Good morning," she replied in kind. She held her breath, knowing exactly what he was about to say. But he made her wait, drawing it out for another moment. She suspected what he was doing, that he was teasing her into thinking he had forgotten.

With a content sigh he moved and got comfortable again, his forehead pressed against the back of her neck. "Happy birthday, Sweetheart."

She smiled at this, feeling giddy with happiness. A birthday had been had by Rick, Judith, Carl and Daryl…and now it was her turn. It was strange to feel this excited, particularly as there was nothing of significance planned except a nice breakfast and some cake later, but she was glad that it was her birthday, that she got to celebrate it with her new family. Her birthday a year ago had been spent completely alone, lost in the woods covered in Walker guts. She had eaten dirt in effort to find any kind of nutrition, and only the changing temperature had alerted her to the fact she had turned thirty three some time in the past few weeks. This year however, was vastly different.

"Thank you." She took his hand on her belly and moved it down and to the right, bringing it to where he would be able to feel the baby moving. "You feel that?"

"Yeah," he answered, holding his hand there. "Feels like bubbles. What are we now?"

Carrie rolled her eyes at this, for she had no doubt that Rick knew exactly how far along they were. He was better at keeping track than she was. "Almost twenty four weeks."

"We're over halfway there," he said, and not for the first time. When the baby stopped moving he brought his hand back around to where it was before, relaxing again. There was a comfortable silence, and then he spoke again. "Ethan."

Considering this, Carrie repeated the name inside her head, and then out loud. "Ethan. Ethan Grimes."

"You don't like it?"

She shrugged. "It's okay. I wouldn't say I feel a spark for it. Not like Coop-"

"No to Cooper," he said sternly. "But, Ethan?"

"I don't _hate_ it," she admitted.

"I'll put it on the list. What about…Sebastian?"

Carrie pulled a face and looked around at him. "Really? People would call him Seb. It would just annoy you."

"No they wouldn't. Not if I had anything to say about it."

"Like you have any say about what people call Judith? You know she answers to Ass Kicker, right?"

Rick muttered something unintelligible under his breath. "Daryl got a head start on that one, alright? It would be different with Sebastian."

Unconvinced, Carrie shrugged her shoulders. "I like Ethan. It's easy, and no one will ever have to ask him how to spell his name. For a girl…" she mused, stroking her fingers along her belly where the baby was. "I like Rachel." There was a long silence now, and she could tell Rick wasn't enthused. "What's wrong with Rachel?"

"I knew a Rachel once. Nice gal, but she could suck a softball through a straw. So I've been told," he quickly added.

"You know, this would be easier if we knew what we were having."

"I want to be surprised," he replied, his tone reminding her of their extensive debate over this subject. "If you want to know I can't stop you asking Denise. But you'll give it away."

Carrie sighed wearily, knowing that hew as right. She was desperate to know the gender of their baby, to feel an extra element of preparedness, but Rick didn't. Somehow she would give it away to him, she'd pay extra attention to agreeing on a particular gendered name, she'd accidentally let it slip in conversation or as she slept. He was so adamant that he wanted to be surprised, and she couldn't bear the thought of telling him accidentally.

Taking his hand from her belly she kissed the back of his knuckles, holding it there against her lips before she got up. Like she did every morning she sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at herself, admiring the new shape of her body. She had many months to go before she could be considered big, and she still managed to fit into most of her pre-pregnancy clothing, though her jeans were getting uncomfortable without the extension Maggie had given her. Nevertheless she loved seeing the way her belly grew, she loved running her hand over the curve. For that matter so too did Rick.

"I'm taking a shower," she announced as she got to her feet and stretched.

"You want company?"

"It's my birthday. Someone needs to rub my shoulders and soap me up."

"Wait a sec."

Halfway to the bathroom she slowed and turned around, looking at him expectantly. Seeing that he had her attention he made quite the show of stretching, making her wait before telling her what it was he wanted. Unable to help herself, she let her eyes rake up and down his bare chest. Now that Judith occupied her own bedroom and visited their bed slightly less frequently, they had enjoyed the luxury of being able to sleep completely naked any time they liked.

"You want your birthday present?"

Carrie paused, considering this. "Is it you?" she asked, noting that his hand was under the blankets. She wondered if this was intentional, if he planned on getting a head start on the birthday sex. "Because if it's you, you're gonna need to brush your teeth first."

"Ah, alright then. You don't want your present."

Giving in without delay, Carrie came to the bed and slipped under the covers beside him, gladly welcoming him when he reached for her. Settling down alongside him she let him press a kiss to the centre of her chest, his lips lightly brushing over her breast before affording her a proper kiss. For a few wonderful moments she enjoyed the touch of his body against hers, kissing him as she revelled in how damn perfect things were lately. The quarry herd and the Wolves felt like mere hiccups…life was good.

Moments later he tore himself away, and this time it was Carrie's turn to lay in bed and watch him moving about the room, her eyes taking him in in all his naked glory. He made his way over to the bureau and rifled around in the wooden box where he kept the items of greatest value. A photograph of Lori, Judith's birth certificate and until a few months ago the sapphire engagement ring Carrie now wore on her left hand. She had snooped in there once, had discovered the array of rings he had struggled to choose between, but since then had afforded him the privacy owed. Recently she had come to suspect he was hiding a birthday gift for her in there, but she had resisted the urge to snoop again…it had taken all her self control not to do it, and now it was going to pay off.

When he returned to the bed it was with his fist tightly clenched, teasing her with just a glimpse of yellow crepe paper peeking out between his fingers. After a little coaxing he relinquished the gift to her, and she held the small item in the palm of her hand. It was oddly shaped and surprisingly heavy, and intrigued by it she sat up and looked at it.

"Are you going to open it?" Rick prompted.

"In a second."

For a few moments longer she studied it scrupulously. It was flat but round in shape, perhaps a quarter of an inch thick. There was a small nub on one end, something miniature that seemed to move…no, turn. She tapped her fingernail against the hard material, and when she turned it over she felt something on the other side, something long and thin that also moved…a chain.

"You do this with all your birthday gifts?"

"Yeah," she smiled, almost certain she knew what it was.

"But you hate surprises."

"I hate surprises, but love suspense. This is the latter." She paused, looking at him hesitantly. "It's a necklace, right?"

His look of exasperation was all she needed to know she was right on the money. Giddy with excitement and thrilled she had figured it out, she carefully removed the yellow crepe paper and unfolded it, trying to keep it neat and undamaged so that it could be used again. As she suspected she felt the movement of a chain as she unwrapped the paper, and her heart leapt into her throat when she opened it properly and looked at it. Encased in some kind of clear plastic was a daisy flower, one whose slightly asymmetrical petals told her that it was real. She looked at it in wonder, her lips parted around the words she struggled to find.

"Where on earth did you get this?" she finally managed to ask.

"I made it."

Now she looked around at him, her brow furrowed as she took in what he had said. "You made this?"

He nodded, looking very matter of fact about it. "It's just some resin and a pressed flower."

"Just some resin, and my _favourite_ pressed flower," she corrected him, leaning over and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. "Thank you."

"You like it?"

She nodded, kissing him again. "I love it," she smiled, looking back at it. Looping she chain around her fingers she let the pendant dangle in the air, admiring the perfect circle that encompassed the petals perfectly. "It's beautiful Rick. Thank you."

"I can make it into a bracelet if you prefer," he offered next.

Wanting to rid him of whatever doubts he might harbour, she took swift action. Lifting the blankets she pushed him onto his back and then straddled him, settling herself onto him in just the right spot to get his attention. Smiling she leant down over him, very aware of the fact that his eyes went to her breasts first, not that this bothered her. They kissed languidly, but when she felt him getting ahead of themselves she sat up and kept them on task. She studied the chain and then found the clasp, loving that it too was shaped like a flower. Opening it she carefully held each end and turned it the right way, then passed it to him.

"Put it on for me?"

"You'd better lean down again," he said, his jaw flexing around a smile when she did exactly that.

He took his time in securing the necklace around her neck, a gentle nudge on the back of her shoulders making her lean down a little more, to press her breasts against his bare chest. When he was done with the necklace she allowed his hands to roam, her lips occupying his as she indulged herself in him. Her expectations for birthday presents had been appropriately low given the state of the world, but his gift was thoughtful, he had gone to a big effort to make something for her.

"The chain is maybe a little long," she said when she sat up to observe the way it hung. "It's stuck between my boobs."

"The perfect place to be, in my opinion," he commented, he too sitting up. "I can shorten it for you. Later."

With great ease he wrapped his arms around her waist and turned her over onto her back, settling himself down on top of her with a languid kiss. She approved of his train of thought, already feeling particularly affectionate towards him in that moment, but she looked at the clock.

"Mmmm, Rick. We need to take a shower." His attention was otherwise occupied, his lips and hands slowly making their way down her torso. Her body shuddered when she felt his fingers tickling her side, his tongue laving her breasts that he found harder and harder to resist as her pregnancy progressed. "Rick!"

"You want to stop?" he questioned, raising his head for just a moment. Before she could answer he moved his lips to her other breast, quickly muddying her thoughts.

"The trade run today…we need to…" she trailed off with a heavy sigh, knowing she was being silly.

For a few moments longer he continued, raising his head only when he knelt between her legs holding her knees apart. He looked down at her with that stupid smile, one that meant he knew he had won this round…not that there were about to be any losers.

"You want to go take a shower, be my guest," he said, tilting his head a little. "Or I can just shut up and get back to what I was gonna do."

Knowing they were both winners here, Carrie happily complied.

* * *

"Carl," Carrie began, sitting back in her chair and licking syrup from her fingers. "Those are the best pancakes I've ever had. By far."

Across the table Carl tried to hide his smile, secretly thrilled by her compliment. "Thanks. It's just a Bisquick mix."

"Well you shook the bottle extremely well."

"You want one more?" he offered her, gesturing to the last pancake on the plate.

Considering this, Carrie glanced at Judith in her highchair, the slow eater only just starting her third. Rick had eaten his fill and was currently tidying the kitchen, and some had been set aside for Daryl…there had been more than enough to go around.

"I'll split it with you," she suggested, not feeling she could manage a whole one on her own. "With maple syrup, please."

Still sitting back she smiled as she watched Carl serving it up, enjoying that he was making such a fuss over her. He had been up since early that morning, tending to Judith and then preparing breakfast so that Rick and Carrie could enjoy a sleep in on her birthday. It had been really nice so far, not that she expected that to change throughout the day. Since the herd breakout and the Wolves attack, things between she and Carl had taken a turn for the better. Her pregnancy, which she had at first feared would create tension between them, seemed to be the very element that made him happier. There was a ready made and legitimate reason for her to stay safely in Alexandria, to stick around being a mom to Judith rather than being out on supply runs. It had only been the pregnancy that really alerted her to Carl's feelings on the matter. He hadn't resented her…he had wanted her around, just like Rick had been.

Finishing her half of the pancake, Carrie again licked the maple syrup off her fingers, indulgently dragging her finger around her plate to collect the rest. Table manners be damned in her opinion, particularly when there was maple syrup to be enjoyed. As Carl cleared the table and Rick topped up her mug of coffee, Carrie removed her wedding rings and held them in the palm of her hand, needing to give them a thorough cleaning when she washed her hands.

In the aftermath of the quarry herd and the Wolves, celebrating their pregnancy and engagement had been a low priority, though not for everyone. Rick had given her the sapphire ring of her choice a week after they returned to their home, the two of them having enjoyed a quiet morning working together in the gardens. It had been an understated moment, no one there to witness it but the two of them, but him getting down on one knee and asking her to marry him had been perfect. They both knew her answer had been ready for a long time, not that it stopped him looking a little nervous, his hand shaking as he held the ring out to her while he accidentally knelt in a patch of manure.

They hadn't held an engagement party, preferring instead to save their supplies for the wedding itself, which had been two weeks ago. Few traditions had been observed that day, Rick refusing the idea that they get married in the church, while she declined the idea of anyone giving her away, even to him. They waited for a warm November day, and when it came around they put things into action, not minding that their cake was only hastily made or that Carrie's cocktail dress only just managed to hide her pregnancy, not that it mattered. It had been relaxed and informal, Rick going to the effort of putting on an ironed shirt only because Carol handed it to him.

Dwelling on that day, on the lazy afternoon the community spent eating, drinking and dancing, Carrie studied her wedding rings in the palm of her hand. Hers was a delicate silver band that matched the sapphire engagement ring, a stark contrast to the thicker yellow gold that Rick wore on his fourth finger. Their wedding rings didn't match in material, colour or style, but somehow they felt right together. Somehow everything that day had felt right, even though it was worlds away from the type of wedding that would have been held before the outbreak. In hindsight she knew partly why that was the case, that she felt good about the fact they got married not because she was pregnant, but because they wanted to. The life they were living now…they didn't get to chose a lot of it, but being together was a choice they did make.

"Rick?" she called out, tactfully bringing this up while he was distracted with the dishes. "What about Alex for a boy?"

His response was swift. "No," he said sternly, not falling for her attempt to catch him unawares. From he kitchen he looked at her with narrowed eyes, brandishing a dish sponge in her direction. "No Grey's Anatomy names."

"Not even Mered-"

"Especially not Meredith," he said firmly, narrowing his eyes at Carl who had started laughing at his expense.

"But I-"

"No!"

Carrie huffed, unsure of how to continue now that her strategy had failed. "I genuinely like Meredith. Meredith Grimes sounds nice."

"No," he repeated, muttering under his breath as he continued cleaning the frying pan. "It's bad enough you made me watch that trash."

At this Carrie rolled her eyes. She finished her coffee and then got to her feet, bringing the empty mug into the kitchen to load it into the dishwasher. "Die Hard," she reminded him. "Die Hard 2. Die Hard with a Vengeance. Live Free or Di-"

"Alright, I get it," he cut her off, looking a little sheepish now. "It makes sense to watch them all."

"All four of them?" she protested, still not over the fact that Rick, Carl and Daryl had overruled her protest against their choice in movie. "All four?"

"You liked the Bourne movies, I thought you'd like Die Hard."

Going to the list of baby names on the refrigerator, Carrie wrote down Ethan. To wind him up she added Meredith too. "I liked the Bourne movies because they had Matt Damon, not Bruce Willis."

"What's wrong with Bruce Willis?"

"He's not Matt Damon," she smiled, not resisting the urge to sigh lustfully.

Rick scoffed at this, still sore about the whole argument. "You're too tall for Matt Damon."

"Really? That's the flaw in my fantasy?" she questioned. Knowing it annoyed him when he was doing the dishes, she plunged her hands into the sink of soapy water to wash the syrup off.

"He's your fantasy?"

"Sure. Who's yours?" she asked in interest, slipping her rings back on.

A tinge of pink appeared in his cheeks, and he glanced around to ensure Carl had gone upstairs before he answered. "I've always held a candle for Claudia Schiffer."

Carrie chuckled at this, but it quickly faded. "Claudia…Claudia Grimes?"

He looked around at her in dismay. "You want to ruin Claudia Schiffer for me?"

"It like the name. It's classic," she added, knowing he preferred that type of name. "Claudia Grimes."

With a heavy sigh he turned back to the sink of soapy water, flicking her with some suds. "Put it on the list," he said begrudgingly. "And cross off Meredith while you're at it."

"Oh, come on. Please?"

"You vetoed my favourite name," he reminded her.

"Because Miles is a stupid name! We're not naming our son after a unit of measurement."

"It's a perfectly fine name. Now quit your arguin' and turn around."

She didn't immediately do as he instructed, instead taking a moment to look him in the eye and smile. She suspected what it was behind her, but wanting to make the most of the moment she turned around slowly, not bothering to hide how giddy with excitement she was. By the dining room table was Carl and Judith, Carl crouched down and helping his sister hold the light weight package she seemed reluctant to have.

"Say, happy birthday, Mom," Carl instructed, trying to coach Judith into saying it with him. "Come on, say it. Happy birthday, Mom."

Judith dithered for a moment, unsure of what had her attention more, the gift in her hand or the encouragement to speak. Finally she uttered a few words that mimicked the inflection in Carl's tone, and when she finally understood that she was giving something to Carrie her face lit up. "Mom," she began eagerly, lifting the present higher. "It's…yours."

"Thank you, Judy Pie," she smiled, kissing her on the cheek before forcing Carl to endure one as well. As she did she couldn't help but pay attention to the redness on the right side of his face, the discolouration from his infection having extended too far to be hidden by the bandage over his eye. "Thank you, Carl."

With Judith eagerly following and watching her every move, Carrie settled onto the couch and began to open her present. From the corner of her eye she saw Rick giving a smirk that she knew was hiding laughter, and so she braced herself for whatever might be inside. She needn't have prepared herself though, for although the pyjamas were perhaps the unsexiest Carl could have found in the Pantry, they were velvety soft and thick, perfect for the upcoming winter.

"I love them," she declared, separating the top and bottom to look at them closely. "I'll need a belt, but I love them."

"I had to get the extra large size, because you know," he explained, trailing off apologetically. "Besides, you're a mom now."

"What does that mean?"

"You get pyjamas on your birthday, and slippers on Mother's day. It's just the way it is, you don't get a choice."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and to make sure he felt good about the present he had given her she unbuttoned the pyjama shirt and slipped it on over her clothes, indulging herself in the soft fabric. "Your dad got a can of pudding on his birthday," she reminded him. "Do I get pudding?"

"No, you get cake."

"Carrot cake?"

"Ummm," he began, looking at Rick for a moment. "Cake from a box."

Putting on his jacket and brushing his hand over the Colt in his holster, Rick came into the living room. "Talk to Betty Crocker, see what she can do," he instructed Carl before leaning down and kissing Carrie on the cheek. "I'll see you down at the gate. Any don't touch the dishes," he added as he began to leave. "Carl can finish those."

Wishing he didn't have to go into Washington today, though she knew how important it was, Carrie was sad to see him go. For a moment she sat there on the couch in her too large pyjama shirt, thinking about the day ahead and pretending he didn't leave. They would sit around doing very little other than simply being together.

"You like them?" Carl enquired. "Judy picked them," he added as if to lessen his involvement in a poor choice.

"I love them," she repeated again, settling back into the couch after helping Judith climb up into her lap. "Thank you. I'll wear them tonight." _Just so Rick can take them off._

"Good, because the slippers you're gettin' on Mother's Day match."

Without further ado Carl got to his feet and headed into the kitchen, leaving Carrie and Judith to stay on the couch together, hanging out. As she listened to him picking up the dish cloth and continue where Rick had left things she started to feel bad. It was a rule in Alexandria that on your birthday you didn't do chores, that your friends and family were to make a fuss over you, but she felt bad that Carl was the one doing it right now. She looked at him over top of the couch, noting that he seemed perfectly alright today, that he didn't look poorly. But she couldn't get that red discolouration on his face out of her mind's eye, the redness from his latest infection having been there over a week now.

"Carl? You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said nonchalantly, his answer any time she enquired about his health. If Rick or Michonne asked he'd be honest about it, but never with her. She knew why, she understood that what had happened to Carl was something they both blamed themselves for. He never told her when he wasn't feeling good, he never let her help change his bandage…he didn't want her to feel bad.

"Carl," she began again, using some authority in her tone to make sure he listened. "Leave the dishes until later. Let's go upstairs and play Mario Kart."

He paused mid way through scrubbing, and he looked at her with a tentative smile. "But Dad said I had to do the dishes…"

"Let them soak," she shrugged, already getting to her feet and swinging Judith onto her hip. "I want to play Mario Kart, and it's my birthday so you have to let me win."

An hour later and after a measly three wins on the video game, Carrie bundled Judith up into a warm coat and put her boots on, only just having the time to properly secure the velcro straps before she was racing towards the front door. A game to her, Judith loved going down to the gates to farewell a group of people when they were leaving, fascinated by the odd things she could catch a glimpse of outside. She was the most enthusiastic of them all, excitedly stamping her feet when the gates where opened and cheerfully waving goodbye to those leaving. Every time she watched her Carrie wished that just for a moment she herself could recapture that innocence, that she didn't have to hang on to the gut wrenching worry she felt every time someone left Alexandria.

While Judith all but sprinted on ahead of them, Carrie and Carl walked side by side behind her, keeping a close eye on the little girl as they came closer to the lake. It didn't matter that there would be dozens of other people around, for one heart splitting moment a month ago Judith had wandered away from Carrie's supervision, a brief lapse of attention that had terrified her. She'd found her standing barely a yard away from the lake's edge, having been chasing a leaf that fluttered in the wind. It was a lapse she didn't want to make again, and so when they reached the south gate where other people were milling around Carrie took care to ensure she picked Judith up, that she had a physical reassurance of her wellbeing.

With Judith on her hip Carrie happily mingled, receiving many chants of _Happy Birthday_ from everyone there, which frankly was most of the community. After the quarry herd and the Wolf attack there were a mere forty three residents left in Alexandria, not that this had made things any easier in terms of food and supplies. Rations were still tight, though a little more generous for Maggie who was breastfeeding, and Carrie who would soon be in the same position. Today's meeting in Washington wouldn't yield a great deal of supplies they needed, but would hopefully get them a step in a direction that they desperately needed to take. At least for Carl's sake.

"Why are you delaying?" Vetor asked, his beautiful Portuguese accent marred by his angered tone. "Go without her. I'll go instead!"

Hearing these words Carrie looked back towards the van, watching Rick who was presently counting the boxes of glass jars and bottles they were going to trade. He said something in reply to Vetor, a hushed discussion had between the two men, and Carrie suspected what it was about. A quick glance at her watch told her the run crew were ten minutes behind schedule, though with plenty of time to spare Rick wasn't overly concerned about it. On the other hand Carrie was, for she knew why they were delayed…Lana.

"She's a little girl playing games, being late intentionally," Vetor argued to Rick, his hushed voice easier to hear now that Carrie had crept closer. "Why do you put up with that? Why do you continue to take her instead of me?"

Rick flexed his jaw, reminding Carrie of how little he liked Vetor, how he disapproved of the manipulative hold he seemed to have over Lana. After Alexandria was evacuated and Vetor was presumed dead, Rick had told her that Vetor's death was the best thing that could happen to Lana, that without him breathing down her neck she could finally learn why type of leader she wanted to be, she could finally think for herself. Though she knew he'd never say it out loud, she knew Rick was a little disappointed when Vetor had turned up alive. Quietly she felt smug about the way he felt. While her dislike of Lana slowly turned into an odd friendship and mutual respect, his disapproval of Vetor had grown stronger.

"Why do you take her instead of me?" Vetor badgered him, pressing him for an answer. "All these months you-"

"I take her instead of you, because she does as she's told," Rick finally snapped, slamming the van's rear door. In an instant the cheerful chatter of the community began to fall silent, everyone pausing to look and listen. "I tell her to jump, she asks how high? That's why I take her, not you."

Vetor laughed incredulously, scratching the back of his shoulder as he looked around at the onlookers, perhaps wondering if someone would step in for him. "Yes, she does as she's told, very good," he agreed cruelly. "You want a performing Seal from the circus? Clap your hands and she'll do a trick? Just make sure y-"

Rick swore under his breath, cutting Vetor off when he impatiently turned to Carrie. "Go and get her," he snapped, gesturing to the townhouses. "Now."

With reluctance she did as he asked, not because she resented his instruction or his rude tone of voice, but because she knew why Lana was running late. This was exactly what she wanted, Vetor angry and lashing out, making a fool of himself in public. Problem was his anger wasn't going to turn into action…at least not the action Lana wanted him to take. Handing Judith over to Carl she set off towards the townhouses, not looking forward to what she was certain to find there. What Lana was doing was futile. It was never going to work.

Not bothering to knock, Carrie let herself inside the townhouse. "Lana!" she called out, standing at the base of the stairs. "Lana, you're running late! Everyone's waiting for you."

She had expected to hear a panicked flurry of activity, the sound of hurried footsteps in the upstairs hallway…but there was nothing. Feeling impatient she looked around the townhouse she had become somewhat familiar with over the last two months, her developing yet somewhat odd friendship with Lana having seen her visiting on more than one occasion. Without preamble she made her way up the stairs to the first floor, and when she reached the landing and looked down the long hall she listened to the sound of a faint but steady thud. On the inside she was cringing in embarrassment, wondering who it was she was going to interrupt in the middle of sex. Reaching Lana's bedroom she raised her fist and prepared to knock loudly, but she stopped at the last minute.

"Ye-es…keep going. Oh fuck, keep going."

With a soft sigh Carrie lowered her fist and backed away from the door. Regardless of the fact that Lana was making the run crew late and was inciting arguments, she hated to interrupt her. Having a small toddler and a teen occupying her house meant that she and Rick had been interrupted more than once at various stages, and it never meant for a good day after. Wanting to hurry this up Carrie sat down on the top stair, the sound of the steady thud and the moans from inside Lana's bedroom less conspicuous here. She would give them three minutes to finish up, that ought to be enough time for whatever man Lana had in there this morning.

As she waited she dwelled on Lana's behaviour from the last few months, worried about what she was doing. Depending on who it was in there, this was either the second or third guy Lana had been with, not that there was anything wrong wi that…it was just a waste of her time. She wasn't ever going to achieve what she wanted to. When the three minutes were up Carrie got back to her feet and cautiously made her way back down to Lana's bedroom, listening to be sure that it really was all over. Upon hearing no sounds she braced herself as she knocked, for despite circumstances she didn't revel in her intrusion.

"Lana! You're late for the run crew to Washington. Hurry up!"

There was an immediate commotion from inside the bedroom, hushes voices dismaying over what they had just heard. Lana swore loudly when something went crashing down to the floor, and in the flurry she heard a man's voice as he searched for his underwear.

"I don't know," Lana said impatiently. "Just give me the sheet! Seriously, give me the sheet!"

A split second later the bedroom door swung open before Carrie expected it to, revealing a very disheveled Lana as she tugged a thin white bed sheet up over her chest. She gave an apologetic smile, laughing as she tried to neaten her mussed up hair, but then to Carrie's surprise she stepped out into the hallway. Lana's face fell as she looked down the hallway and saw no one else. Carrie didn't need to ask to know who she was looking for…she was hoping Vetor was out there, that he too had come looking for her when she was late for the run crew.

"He's down at the gate," Carrie said softly, not seeking to embarrass her.

"Huh?" Lana asked, looking wide eyed and innocent despite the very conspicuous love bite on her neck. "Who?"

"Vetor. He's down at the gate."

"Y-yeah, great," she said offhandedly. She turned and started back inside, only at the last minute remembering the properly wrap the sheet around her body. "Come in if you like, I'll just be - oh, on second thought," she laughed, turning around and blocking the doorway. "Don't come in."

Carrie stood out in the hallway, having had no intention of coming inside. "I'll just wait out here."

Lana gave a pained smile and very quickly shut the door again. "Hurry up!" she said to the person inside. "You have to get dressed, I'm running late."

"I - I can't find my-"

"I'll find them later, just get outta here!"

"Gee…thanks."

"Come on," Lana moaned impatiently, still hustling them. "You know we're cool, right? We're cool."

"Yeah, okay," the guy said. "But my place tonight? Come on…you've never stayed the night at my place."

"I don't like your bed, it dips in the middle."

"There are other beds at my place."

"I like my bed, my room," Lana argued, sounding impatient now. "I like having my stuff around, otherwise I can't…it's either my place or you can fuck your hand tonight. You pick."

"Let's eat dinner at my place…then we'll come back here if that's what you want."

"Fine. Now get outta here."

The door opened swiftly, Lana still wrapped in the thin bed sheet as she ushered the other person out of her room. It was to Carrie's surprise that it was Spencer departing the bedroom, his cheeks red with embarrassment while he fumbled to fasten the buckle on his belt.

"Good morning, Carrie," he said in embarrassment, avoiding eye contact with her. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks," she said, struggling to keep a straight face. "Your shirt's inside out."

He stopped in his tracks and looked at it, giving a nervous laugh. "Ah yeah, so it is," he said. Without hesitation he lifted the hem and quickly removed it, but as he did so he realised what he was doing. Too far gone to turn back now, he clumsily fumbled to turn his shirt in the right way before finally getting it on properly, and then he made his departure as quickly as he could. As he headed for the staircase Carrie and Lana exchanged a polite smile, both of them waiting until Spencer was out of earshot before they spoke.

As they waited, Carrie began to understand what was going on. This wasn't the first time she had been late for something, and normally it was Vetor who usually came home to hurry her. She had been late on purpose, hopeful that Vetor again would be sent to come and get her…it should have been him discovering that Spencer had spent the night. It made sense that she didn't want to stay the night at his place, and it wasn't because she disliked his bed. Spencer might have an entire townhouse to himself, but at hers the thin walls provided little privacy from housemates. Here, Vetor would have to listen to her fucking someone else all night long.

Lana sighed, leaning against the doorframe as she looked at towards staircase Spencer had just descended. She turned back to Carrie, giving her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean for you to hear any of that. Thanks for letting him finish though…he really earned it. Trust me."

"Come on, just get ready," she said impatiently. "You need to go."

Lana laughed, running her hand through her messed up hair. "God, I need a fucking shower."

"No, you don't have the time!" Carrie protested, annoyed when Lana turned away and went back into her bedroom. She followed her a few steps, stopping in her tracks and rolling her eyes when she shamelessly dropped the sheet. "Lana!"

"Seriously, I need a shower. I don't even know what the hell I'm covered in."

"How can you not know what you're covered in?" she questioned in dismay, averting her eyes from Lana's naked form. "What the hell kind of kinky shit did you two get up to?"

"Well, there was the usual caramel sauce," Lana began explaining, shouting as she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. "Then there was a can of string cheese. And then you know…the usual stuff. I'll be sixty seconds, you can even time me."

Taking her at her word, Carrie looked at her watch and began timing her for sixty seconds, no more no less. As that minute passed Carrie hovered awkwardly in the doorway, not wanting to go in there but not wanting to leave either, lest Lana see it as an opportunity to dawdle. Against her better judgement she looked around, taking note of the empty wine bottle by the bed and the can of string cheese. She started laughing to herself, giving them credit for making do with what they had.

"Sixty seconds!"

A few moments later the water stopped, Lana stepping out of the shower and hurriedly wrapping her towel around herself. She emerged sopping wet, her hair plastered to her shoulders while patches at the back remained dry - it really had been a hasty shower. As she started hurriedly drying herself off Carrie turned her back and waited outside in the hall, giving her some privacy.

"So, who sent you to come and get me?" Lana questioned, a loud thud and a whimper of pain indicating she had bumped into something.

"Rick."

"Is Vetor down there too?"

Carrie held her breath, hating that she had to tell her this. For a moment she considered not saying anything, letting Lana continue down the path she was…they had become friends over the last few months, but not to the extent that Lana's problems were now her own too.

"He's there too," she finally answered, taking a deep breath before she continued. "He knows what you're doing, Lana. You don't need to keep doing it."

"Doing what?"

Again Carrie held her breath, unsure of whether she should continue. "You don't need to keep sleeping around to try and get his attention."

There was a long silence now, and even the sound of Lana rummaging around for her clothes had ceased. "I didn't know you were so judgemental."

"I'm not judging you, trust me, I know that sometimes we have to do things to…to get what we need," she said awkwardly, not wanting to go into detail. "Sleep with whoever you want, I'm just saying…I don't know that your strategy is exactly paying off."

As she said this Lana emerged from her bedroom, her shirt hanging from her teeth as she clasped her bra together at the back. For a moment she seemed to glare at Carrie, and then she took the shirt from her mouth and started pulling it over her head. "Why don't you leave that up to me," she suggested shortly, grabbing a pair of boots and thrusting them into Carrie's hands for her to hold. "And as for Spencer, he doesn't get anything from me that I don't get from him. If I'm a slut, then so is-"

"Hey, hey!" Carrie said urgently, putting her hand on Lana's shoulder and making her hold her gaze. "I didn't say that, and you know I didn't imply it either."

A moment passed between the two women, one of understanding and patience that allowed things to simmer down as quickly as they began to grow. Straightening her shirt Lana looked away, embarrassed by what she had said.

"All I'm saying, is that Vetor knows what you're trying to do. He knows the game you're trying to play with him."

"Hard to play a game with someone who won't play back," Lana muttered, crouching down to pull on her socks.

"Are you still sleeping with him too?" she asked in concern, worried about her. "Vetor?"

A pause came to pass, and then Lana avoided the question. "Did you see Spencer's abs? You could grate cheese on them."

Recognising that she wanted the subject to change, Carrie let it go and went with it. "Yeah, I saw them."

Taking her boots from her, Lana yanked them on and stomped her heel to the floor, getting her feet properly placed inside them. Without further ado she ushered Carrie towards the stairs, and as they walked she used her fingers to try and tame the mess of hair that hung around her shoulders. This was perhaps the first time Carrie had ever seen her looking disheveled and hurried, and it was an amusement for sure.

"You know, Spencer is still grieving and has self-esteem issues," Lana said as she pulled on her coat at the front door. Together they stepped outside into the crisp November air, Lana shivering already. "It means he tries extra hard in bed."

When she nudged her side Carrie resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead playing along for Lana's sake. "I didn't need to know that, but good for you."

"Good for me? When's the last time you came five times in one night?"

Carrie looked around at her in surprise, her mouth gaping against her will. "Five times?" she spluttered, not quite believing her. "Well that's just…"

"I'm telling you. Grief, and low self-esteem. You want Rick to make you come five times? Show him a picture of a dead puppy and then tell him his dick is kinda small."

She almost managed to bite her tongue, almost managed to resist the words that came out of her mouth next, but she couldn't help herself. "I'm not lying to my husband just for an orgasm."

"Ohh," Lana said slyly, grinning at her as they made their way past the solar panels. "A Mr Big? Lucky you."

Immediately she regretted what she said. Had she said that to Rosita she could have trusted that it would be teased about, but private. With Lana she wasn't so sure. "How did we get on to this subject?"

"You outta take advantage of all that while you can," Lana said next, gesturing to her belly. "After that baby tears you up it's gonna be like a hot dog in a hallway down there, even for Mr Big."

Carrie spluttered in dismay, knowing that wasn't true. But when she saw the smirk on Lana's face she knew there was no point in arguing with her, that she practically got off on winding Carrie up…problem was she was really good at it. "How are we friends?"

"Beats me," she shrugged, running her hands over her gun holster and machete. "You're the one followin' me around, turning up places where I am and wanting to hang out."

"That's not how it is," Carrie argued, though she knew it was pointless. "Who turned up at my place last week to get drunk with a pregnant woman? You wanted my company."

"Whatever," she muttered as she slowed to a stop, Carrie stopping alongside her.

The run crew were barely twenty yards away now, the white van packed with supplies and ready to depart once the final group member had arrived. They had noticed Lana's arrival, Michonne having thrown her hands up in the air before ushering everyone else to get in the van. But it was Vetor to whom Lana was paying the most attention to, and for that matter so was Carrie. It saddened her to see the way he stoutly reused to look in Lana's direction, going out of his way to avoid acknowledging both her arrival and her tardiness. Whatever she hoped would happen between them, Carrie honestly couldn't see it happening any time soon.

"Is that what he got you?" Lana asked softly, gesturing to Carrie's front. "Can I see it?"

Carrie pulled the necklace pendant from inside her shirt, reminding herself to ask Rick to shorten the chain for her. She looked at the daisy for a moment before showing it to Lana, who ran her thumb over the smooth resin and studied it critically.

"It took him like six tries to make this," Lana commented shortly. "I saw the ones he fucked up."

On the surface she sounded smug that Rick had struggled with it, but Carrie could see the envy in her eyes, the hurt and disappointment that Vetor hadn't even acknowledged her most recent birthday. That subject had come up last week when Lana was deep into the bottle of tequila she brought to Carrie's house…a lot had come up that night.

"It's nice," Lana said sincerely, giving the pendant back to her and beginning to walk away. "And happy birthday. You don't look a day over thirty five."

What had the potential to be a nice moment between new friends faded as Carrie gave a heavy sigh, looking at Lana in exasperation. "I'm thirty four."

"Ah, well," Lana floundered, feigning embarrassment. "You're married now, it's fine."

"What does that mean?"

"Now you're married, it's okay that you've started to let yourself go. Besides, you're pregnant. Your arse is supposed to get fat."

Carrie held her tongue, knowing that Lana was just being a bitch, that she didn't really mean it. "Be safe out there," she forced herself to say.

Leaving without another word, Lana jogged over to the run van, passing Rick, Carl and Judith as she went. A silent exchange was had between them, Lana pointedly looking Rick up and down while he frowned, looking confused. As she joined Michonne and started apologising profusely, he kissed Judith on the cheek and gave Carl a quick hug, clasping him on the shoulder before turning towards Carrie.

"What was that about?" he asked as he came over, referring to the strange look Lana had given him.

"Nothing," Carrie said, not wanting to embarrass him by what she had said to Lana.

"Well, whatever she said, you haven't let yourself go," he joked lightly, having overhead what Lana told her.

"Damn right I haven't," she stated, folding her arms and as she looked at the run van. Lana was very much an odd friend to have, Carrie often left unsure of where they stood with one another.

"When am I allowed to let myself go?" he asked, looking at her seriously.

"Well you gave up on shaving, so you've started."

She stopped herself from saying anything else, not wanting to be unkind or untruthful. After hanging out with Lana it was so easy for a slip of the tongue to be made, for her to pick up on and unconsciously mimic the way Lana spoke and interacted with other people. On her Carrie could see it for what it was, a defence mechanism against those who didn't believe in her, but for Carrie that reason couldn't apply to bitchiness.

"You know the thing is, I still know know if she means the things she says, or if she's just winding me up."

Rick gave a short laugh at this. "I know I told you to make nice with her, but that doesn't mean you have to be friends with her."

"Yeah, I know," she muttered, still both annoyed and amused by the interaction. She looked at Rick properly and took his hand in hers, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. "Good luck with Richard. Be safe out there, please."

"It will all be fine," he assured her, kissing her again before brushing his hand over the front of her belly as he departed. As he walked away he looked at her over his shoulder, still reassuring her. "She's just winding you up Carrie. Take her with a grain of salt."

Carrie smiled and nodded, raising her hand in farewell. As she waited for them to leave she joined Carl and Judith who stood with the others, a whole group having congregated by the fate to farewell the run crew. There they mingled, their worries and concerns for the run crew poorly hidden behind their efforts to make small talk. While the Alexandrian's had always worried when their people left the walls for any kind of run, that worry was compounded even more these days. At this thought Carrie looked over to the south wall where the names of their dead were painted, a stark reminder that they had lost a third of their population in one horrific day.

"What happened while I was gone?" Carrie muttered to Carl. "Did I miss anything?"

He shrugged, readjusting Judith on her hip. "They argued a bit more, but that was it. Dad said something about a bull in China. I didn't really get it."

Realising she ought to have asked Maggie for details instead, Carrie explained. "He probably called Vetor a bull in a china shop. It means he's careless, that he doesn't know how to approach something that needs a gentle touch."

"Oh," he frowned, moving towards the right to allow Judith a long awaited glimpse outside the opening gate. "That makes better sense than a bull in China."

As the van began to depart, Rick's hand hanging out the driver's side window in farewell, Carrie waved goodbye and then turned her attention to Vetor instead. He had already left, halfway home already with his hands clenched and his head bowed. She wondered what he was going to do now, if he was going to investigate Lana's bedroom to find the used condoms, the empty bottle of wine she shared with Spencer. Whatever he did next, Carrie knew that it wasn't what Lana really wanted.

Looking in that direction already, Carrie set her eyes onto someone else who was already walking away, someone she hadn't seen in days. Checking that Judith was still with Carl she took off at a hasty walk, calling out the person's name as she quickly caught up to them.

"Carol!" she called, relieved when she looked around and slowed to a stop. "Where are you going so fast?" she enquired as she fell into step beside her.

"Home," Carol said, gesturing in the direction of the quaint cottage she shared with Tobin. "I have watch in an hour."

Carrie nodded, getting the strange feeling she'd had for months now. Things had been different between them since everyone had learned of her pregnancy, since the days the Wolves attacked and took so much from them. Since then Carol had been distant with her to the point of being cold, and it was only when Carrie tried to call her out on it that things changed. But they only ever changed in the short term, and after a couple of days passed Carol was back to acting indifferent. After so long of her being a rock and a friend her distance felt hurtful, particularly when she felt like she needed Carol's friendship more and more.

"It feels like I haven't seen you weeks," she said quietly. "Is something wrong?"

In an instant Carol brightened, making light of her absence. "I saw you just the other day," she said warmly. "At the pantry."

"Is something wrong, Carol?"

Carol shook her head, her warm smile never faltering. "Everything's just fine…maybe a little busy, that's all. Are you having a nice birthday?"

Knowing a dismissal when she heard it, Carrie nodded her head and then wrapped things up. "Yeah I am, thanks. Will I see you around today? I think Carl's making a birthday cake."

"He is making you cake, I'm helping him," she said quietly, acting as though it was a secret. "I'll see you later."

With that Carol sped up a little, another clear signal that she wanted the interaction to be over. Despite the hurt feeling that grew inside her Carrie respected her wishes by slowing to a stop, giving a disappointed sigh as she watched Carol leave. Though there were other things to worry about today, that didn't change the horrible feeling she was left with in the pit of her stomach. She missed Carol terribly, and the more she pushed her away the more she felt like she needed to hang on, for both their sakes. But it was becoming increasingly clear that Carol simply needed her space, particularly given the blatant lie she had just told her. How could she possibly take watch and help Carl cook her birthday cake at the same time?

Not knowing what to do, Carrie resigned herself to going home and waiting for Rick's return.

* * *

A/N The start of a new phase of this story, and some hugely important storylines! Sooo excited for you to read and review - thanks guys!


	21. Chapter 21

Leaning against the hood of the run van, Rick shivered as a cool breeze swept past the Washington Monument, making him feel foolish for not dressing in warmer clothing. It was easy to forget how the weather had turned given that the sun was still shining brightly, and this area was always particularly windy anyway. They were a little early as usual, and though they'd only been waiting for ten minutes Rick felt impatient, though too proud to admit his weakness by getting back in the van. He thought about Carrie who well accustomed to the cooler weather, who had worn only a light shirt that day and was perfectly content. He on the other hand was less so, and wasn't looking forward to his first winter in Washington DC.

Only a few short months had passed since the day they evacuated the quarry herd, the day when the Wolves and Negan's men attacked. They had lost many people that day, and in the quieter moments when no one could hear him Rick was thankful that it was not his children who had died, his wife or family who had been killed. At the time he hadn't been able to dwell on any of it, too busy cleaning up the destruction and mess that had been wreaked upon their community. Walkers had to be burnt along with the corpses of the Wolves, their people were buried…blood scrubbed from the pavement. It had taken days before the community could return to their homes, and weeks before the damage was repaired and a small sense of normalcy began to return.

At this thought Rick looked over at Daryl who stood on watch, a cigarette balanced between his lips while he held Carl's crossbow ready. His eyes focused on the burning cigarette, immediately feeling the need to take out one of his own, to occupy himself with the soothing taste of the tobacco. But he couldn't anymore…he had given up, for real this time. Trying to ignore the desire he looked at the back of Daryl's leather vest, the faded angel wings marred by the knife plunged into the back of his shoulder. Two months had passed since the herd broke out and the Wolves attacked, two months since Daryl, Abraham and Sasha had been held up by a biker gang. Luckily the injury Daryl sustained was only minor, and even luckier still they had all made it through that encounter alive.

The group that attacked them had lingered in the back of Rick's mind ever since he learned of it, as did the name Negan. The pair who stole Daryl's motorcycle and crossbow had been fleeing Negan's group, running for their lives. This group…they knew almost nothing about them except that they were organised and well off, having the means and opportunity to hunt people down and hold them up. At the time they had been closing in on Alexandria, they were already in the vicinity. There was no doubt in Rick's mind that these were dangerous people, and that Alexandria needed to be ready to fight them.

Security had been stepped up another notch, it absolutely had to be. Alexandria had survived the Wolf attack admirably, and although there had been lives lost the community defended itself well. More people had survived than would have before Rick's group arrived, he was proud of that. Now they needed to step it up again. There would be more where those Bikers came from, and they'll be wanting revenge for what happened to their people. But Alexandria were going to be prepared for them, and nothing was being left to chance.

Though it wouldn't have prevented the Wolves attack, the losses they sustained bolstered them to finally get back to work on the security cameras outside the walls. For too long they had delayed installing the fourth camera, feeling that the southern side was adequately covered by the watch tower, that it was too dangerous to be outside putting it all together. But when the herd eventually dispersed from the community and the residents returned, Rick had set his people straight to work. Supply runs were made, and many hours were spent in the woods digging trenches to bury the cables, yards and yards of waterproofing required to protect them from moisture. It took them three weeks of working every day, but eventually they had a total of eight cameras set up in the immediate vicinity, providing a three hundred and sixty degree view of the world outside them. There were no blindspots from which they could be taken by surprise.

The addition of these camera's hadn't negated the need to be vigilant, and if anything had added to the burden of keeping their surroundings monitored at all times. There were four watch posts and the security feed to be manned at all times, day and night, and although it was an increasing burden given their depleted population, not one person had shown any reluctance to getting the shifts covered. The community knew what was at stake, they knew what they had to protect and how quickly they could lose it all. Shelly's house was now the central hub for their security feed, the only use they could give to the house that had been partially demolished by the Wolves' semi-trailer. There was too much work required to make it comfortable for people to live in, but with a little effort and some compromises it was now safe enough to be inside of, safe enough to house the security cameras in their newly dubbed control room.

Sensing a change Rick looked around, and before it came into his line of sight he knew what to expect. Looking towards the Capitol building on his left he waited for a moment, and then a familiar truck emerged from behind the trees, ambling towards them like it did every two weeks. When they first started these meetings Richard's group would arrive on horseback and come from a different direction entirely, efforts that Rick suspected were an attempt to hide the direction in which they lived. Now however with precious gasoline to conserve it seemed they took the most direct route from Palmyra where they allegedly lived. Last month he had overheard Colton complaining about the frustration of conserving gasoline, and though he sympathised Rick didn't offer to help. Their tanker full of gasoline hijacked from the burnt forrest was an incredibly precious resource…one that he didn't want Richard to know about just yet.

The first meeting with Richard after the quarry broke out had been tense. Alexandria was still on edge, wounded from the Wolves attack and paranoid about Negan's men. For some time many of them had suspected that Richard's group was behind that, though this suspicion died down soon after their first meeting. Though things were tense, the only concern of Richards' seemed to be the quarry, and he seemed furious that it had broken out before his group could help intervene. That was what made things tense that day, Rick on edge and ready for an argument to break out. Though he had promised he would, he had no intention of holding off evacuating the quarry until Richard's group were able to help. In the end their hand had been forced, making it an honest truth when he told him what had happened…but that didn't stop Richard being infuriated.

That day Rick had almost walked away from their meeting, completely ready to tell his group to fall back to their vehicles and get the hell out of there. He didn't need this bullshit, he didn't need Richard breathing down his neck and questioning why they didn't stop the herd, why they didn't try harder to contain it. He didn't even care to know what was so urgent about sending it north rather than west, he was just done with it all. Instead he quickly changed the subject, bluntly asking Richard if he had anything to do with the biker gang, if he was responsible for sending them. In an instant the atmosphere changed, Richard turning from angry to shocked. For a long moment he stood there in silence, taking in Rick's accusation and trying to make sense of it.

"Do we look like a biker gang?" Richard questioned, gesturing to the his group behind him.

"Did you have any involvement in that? Yes or no?" Rick repeated himself, looking Richard in the eye for any sign of guilt.

"No," he said firmly, those around him giving a nod of consensus. "That wasn't us."

"Who was it then?" Rick continued questioning. "Who is Negan?"

Richard furrowed his brow, leaning back a little. "Negan? Who the fuck is Negan?"

Still holding Richard's gaze, Rick looked at him long and hard, unable to get a read on him. He didn't know if this man was being truthful or not, he couldn't gauge anything from him. Moving on he turned to the others there, looking them in the eye and holding their gaze. They all shook their heads or shrugged their shoulders, apparently oblivious to the name he had mentioned, to the people who had nearly killed them.

With little evidence upon which to reject their offer of a trade relationship, Rick was forced to let it go, to believe them while still being cautious. It had taken some time for the relationship to grow comfortable, for although Richard went to the extent of thanking Rick for the heads up about this other group, still he was unsettled. He couldn't blame himself for feeling this way. A lot had happened to them in a very short period, they had lost so much. But they had to make things work with the new group…they couldn't afford for them to harbour any ill will towards Alexandria.

For two months now they had traded harmoniously, the hiccup of the quarry and Negan's men not forgotten, but set aside for the sake of the relationship. So far the arrangement was mutually beneficial, both sides apparently getting things they needed while giving what they could spare, though Rick suspected more and more that it was Richard's group who were better off. While Alexandria asked for medicine, contraception and tampons, Richard's requests were a little more luxurious. DVDs and music, a couple of car parts and hypoallergenic laundry detergent, sprits and wine. It was Alexandria who needed this relationship the most, and both parties knew it.

The imbalance of power made Rick a little nervous, and he had been waiting for the trades to become more difficult. Richard knew that Alexandria were weaker in terms of supplies, it was the perfect opportunity for them to take advantage of this by raising the stakes, by demanding more in exchange for less. But so far that hadn't happened. Richard's requests had always been perfectly manageable, and on the few occasions that Rick's group had to refuse their requests it hadn't been an issue.

Like usual Richard's truck came to a stop on the other side of the monument, and all five occupants filed out and raised their hands in a friendly greeting. By now Rick knew their routine as well as his own, and he watched on as the group of five congregated together for a moment. Seconds later two were sent to keep watch on the other side of the Monument, while Richard, Dianne and Colton came forward to Rick's group.

"How is everyone?" Richard asked pleasantly. With a warm smile he extended his hand to Rick. "Rick? How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you," he said, shaking Richard's hand as his group muttered words to the same effect. "Yourself?"

Richard sighed, looking a little tired. "We've had a good week I suppose…we had a bad breach. There was a lot of work to get things back up and running."

"I hope everyone's alright?"

Smiling, Richard nodded. "Yeah, they are." There was a brief pause now, Richard tilting his head as he looked at him. "Did you get married?"

The yellow gold ring he now wore on his left hand was a clear give away, though he hadn't realised Richard was so perceptive."Yes. Two weeks ago."

"Congratulations," Richard said sincerely, the sentiment echoed by Dianne and Colton. "The lucky gal?" he asked, looking between Michonne and Lana.

"I tried my hardest," Lana piped up. "But no luck for me."

"She's not here," Rick answered. "And thank you."

"I get what the champagne was for now," Dianne said, looking satisfied to have figured something out. "We thought it was odd that you asked for alcohol when you seemed to have enough of your own."

"It was alcohol-free champagne he needed," Colton reminded her. He turned to Rick now, jesting. "You been robbing cradles for your bride?"

"Not quite," he said politely. Wanting to steer the conversation away from Carrie, he quickly changed the subject by gesturing to his group's van. "Fifty glass jars with matching lids, various sizes, and one hundred and eighteen beer bottles. We've engraved them with an A so you'll know which ones to return after the winter."

Recognising his request to get on with things, Richard nodded along. "Does that leave you with enough for yourselves? It can be hard to grow food through the winter, you'll need to be preserving what you have."

"We'll make do with what we have, thank you." He removed a small box from his satchel and passed it to Richard "An oscillating shuttle, as requested. It should fit your sewing machine just fine."

"That's it," Dianne confirmed, taking the box and opening it to look inside. "That's exactly it. Thank you."

While Michonne and Lana unloaded the glass jars, Rick continued reciting what they had brought for them. "We brought shoe laces, middle school biology books, and some more scrap metal. Have you brought what we asked for?"

Nodding in agreement, Richard and Colton turned away and headed for the back of the truck, leaving Rick standing alone with Dianne. For a few moments there was comfortable silence as the two groups made their exchange, Rick watching from the corner of his eye to check every item exchanged. While the glass jars and bottles were on loan, the shoe laces, biology books and scrap metal were exchanged for a Physician's Desk Reference, more contraception, some rolls of cable and barbed wire, and finally a pack of broad spectrum antibiotics. As this last item was exchanged Rick released the breath he was holding, but felt relief for only a moment. There was a two week delay between their trade meetings, meaning that the antibiotics asked for were no longer needed…they wouldn't be enough.

In no time at all the trade was completed, Daryl climbing down from the back of Richard's truck having loaded up all of the jars. As he walked back around he gave a familiar cough, one that Rick recognised as a subtle call for attention. He looked at him just in time to notice what he was gesturing to, a small but discernible hole in the wooden slats that made up the rear enclosure. From the corner of his eye he studied it, noticing now another hole in the lower right corner of the passenger door. As he studied them he wondered if it was paranoia that told him they were bullet holes, or experience.

"That's all agreed on then, yes?" Richard asked, although each of their vehicles were already loaded with their trade. Their work completed the two groups congregated with their own, still more comfortable sticking close to their own.

"Yes, it's agreed," Rick confirmed, shaking Richard's hand when he extended it. "Let's talk about the next trade. What do you need from us?"

At this Richard pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket. "How are you in the way of assorted chemicals?"

"We have some," Rick answered cautiously, interested to know what they were looking for.

"This is a list of what we'd like, it never hurts to stock up. Only if you can spare them that is."

Rick nodded politely, but he wasn't happy with what had been requested. He had been depending on Richard needing something in particular, urgently needing something that Alexandria could supply. His request needed some leverage behind it…he needed something to give them.

"We're hoping you've got some PS3 or Xbox games?" Colton asked eagerly. "Any at all?"

"We have some."

"If you bring them next time we'll look through them. Maybe borrow some for a little while. Our selection is…

"Well used," Dianne supplied.

"I was going to say boring."

"We'll bring some video games," Rick agreed, hiding his impatience. "What else do you want?"

"How are your people for fire wood?" Richard asked now, sounding concerned. "Last winter was mild, but I think it's gonna be a real bitch this year. You got enough to get you through?"

"We're fine for firewood. Anything else you need?" he pressed again.

"Well, we're fine for firewood too," Dianne said. "But we could use some fire extinguishers. Can you spare any Class A?"

"For ordinary combustibles? We've got _some_ we can spare."

A murmur of relief swept Richard's group. "Every winter some idiot gets too close to the fireplace, or knocks over a lantern. It's like clockwork, I swear."

Dianne nodded in exasperation. "Yeah, and with the wall breach the other day we used four extinguishers trying to contain the fire. We'll take whatever you can spare."

Finally Rick felt like he had found some leverage, he had something Richard's group had a genuine need for. "We can get you some fire extinguishers, some fire blankets too if you want them."

"Thank you," Richard said sincerely, looking happy with this. Now there was a brief pause, he and Rick looking at each other. "What will they cost us? What do you need?"

For a moment Rick paused, wishing that he didn't have to ask for this, that it wasn't necessary. "I need to bring someone to your doctors. As soon as possible."

Not to Rick's surprise, Richard seemed quite taken aback by this. For two months now he occasionally had made mention of the fact his group had experienced doctors, but this was the first time Rick had shown any interest in taking him up on the offer of visiting them. There was a long pause, and though it wasn't tense by any means, Rick waited with his breath held.

"They're not miracle workers," he began gently, his voice soft. "If someone's dying of cancer or an amputation, then I'm afraid they're dying with or without us. There's only so much they can do."

"But they can do something?" Michonne asked, speaking for the first time all morning. "We've already had our miracle. We just need it…cleaned up a little."

"What is it exactly?" Dianne asked, her voice already laced with well meaning sympathy.

"It's my son," Rick explained, the following words always difficult for him to say out loud. "Five months ago he was shot in the face and lost his right eye. Since then it's just always been something…" he trailed off now, unable to verbalise that he could no longer watch his son suffering. "We need a second opinion on his treatment."

"He was shot in the face?" Richard exclaimed, his brow furrowed in dismay. "Shot in the face, and he survived?"

"Like I said," Michonne muttered. "We had our miracle already."

Richard's group muttered under their breaths in disbelief, horrified by what they had learned. Further back the two on watch had noticed the change of atmosphere, and were cautiously looking over their shoulders to make sure all was well.

"What exactly are we going to be facing?" Dianne asked. "The more we can tell our guys, the better prepared they can be to see him."

Rick hesitated for a moment, and then reluctantly opened a pouch on his duty belt to remove a polaroid photograph. Carl already hated the fact that Denise kept a photographic journal of his injury, but he would be furious to know Rick had taken one and shared it with strangers. "That's for your doctor," he said, passing the polaroid to Richard. "For yours and their eyes only."

Richard pressed his lips into a thin line as he looked at the picture, staring at it without reaction while Dianne and Colton struggled to hide their horror. Dianne swore under her breath again, shifting her weight between her feet as she turned away from the picture, unable to look at it anymore.

"Who…who saved him from that?"

"We have a doctor, she saved his life when it happened," he said, firmly believing that without Denise Carl would have died. "But she's inexperienced. She's already said that this injury is beyond her…she doesn't know what to do next."

"Tha-"

"When can you bring him to us?" Richard interjected. He pocketed the image and then looked Rick in the eye, holding his gaze.

"I could have him back here in two hours."

Richard glanced at Colton and Dianne, a silent conversation being held between the three of them. It was insightful to observe, reminding Rick that they were as close knit as his own group.

"Does it have to be now, or can it wait until the morning?"

Rick nodded.

"Tomorrow then," Richard decided. "You can meet our leader, our doctors. Pack a bag and stay a few days."

"That's very generous of you," Rick said kindly, not allowing himself to feel prematurely relieved. They didn't yet have a formal agreement in place.

"Is there anyone else?" Richard asked next. "Anyone else who you should bring to our doctors?"

"There may be one or two more."

"Bring them."

With a deep breath Rick looked away, bracing himself for the hardest part. "What's this going to cost us? For my son? For the others?"

Again Richard looked to his people, all three of them sharing a silent conversation of which they were all in agreement. A moment later he turned back to Rick and extended his hand.

"If they need help, just bring them," was all he said. "No charge."

For a painful moment Rick hesitated, every bad experience with other people telling him not to do it, to avoid putting his son at risk. He was bringing his child to a group of people who in reality were strangers, who could be formulating any kind of terrible plot against them. He had no idea what he was walking into…this could be another Terminus, it could be Woodberry. Or, it could like Alexandria, the salvation in which he was now raising his family. Struggling with his decision he glanced back at the small holes in the exterior of Richard's vehicle, still suspecting they were bullet holes.

Without looking up at his group, for he knew exactly what they wanted him to do, Rick took Richard's hand and shook it, agreeing to his offer.

* * *

The sky was darkening as Carrie pulled on her lightweight coat and holstered her gun, Rick waiting for her out on the porch. As she prepared to leave she looked into the kitchen where Carl was making himself a sandwich while Daryl was supervising Judith as she ploughed through her dinner. Her birthday cake was hidden in the back of the refrigerator, but other than that it had been a fairly standard evening at home…even Rick suggesting they take a walk was perfectly normal, though tonight she had her suspicions that there was something at play.

"Come on," Rick hurried her. "You're letting the cold air inside."

Doing as she was told, Carrie farewelled the others and then left, hearing Judith's halfhearted murmur of farewell. Closing the door behind herself she straightened her coat and then reached for Rick's hand, slipping it into hers as they set off on a leisurely stroll together.

"This is a great distraction, thank you," she said quietly as they walked past Jessie's house. Two months later it had been thoroughly cleaned of the horror that happened there, but still it remained unoccupied.

"Distraction?" he asked innocently.

"You know…"

Rick gave a short sigh, looking at her in exasperation. "Don't tell Carl you figured it out, he'll be pissed."

"I won't tell him," she promised, having had no intention of spoiling his effort.

"So, what gave it away?"

"Difficult to say. Between Daryl stuffing birthday candles into his pockets at the Pantry, and Carl being secretive all day, it hard to pick what gave it away. Besides, someone told Eugene. Everyone knows he can't keep a secret."

"You don't mind? It's just a little party."

"I don't mind one bit," she said, squeezing his hand in hers. "It's nice, thank you."

"They won't stay too late," he said softly, his free hand resting on his duty belt as they walked. "We have to be ready for tomorrow. We're leaving by eight o'clock at the latest."

She was disappointed that they were onto this subject already, but she didn't blame him for bringing it up. When they returned home she could go back into birthday mode, she could enjoy the happiness and peace she had come to know. But for now at least this needed to be discussed, not that it hadn't already been discussed at great length. When they came home from the trade meeting in Washington it had been the first thing Rick said, that Richard's group had accepted his request to bring Carl to their doctor. From there the plans were swiftly put together, a meeting called to organise who was going to stay behind and who was accompanying them into unknown territory.

"Do you think he's nervous?" Carrie asked in concern. "Carl?"

Rick nodded, the crease of skin between his eyes forming as his worries returned. "He's put up with this wound for so long, and now to find out if it can be treated or not…I think he's nervous as hell."

She was in complete agreement, she too sharing Carl's nerves. Their family had been talking for weeks about the possibility of Carl seeing another doctor, Rick trying to gauge his feelings on the matter. While at first Carl had been eager to go through with this, as the reality of visiting a new group of people they didn't know began to set in so too did his caution. He could see the risks, acknowledging that any attempt to get him better health care could ultimately lead his group into a trap. It was something that kept Rick and Carrie up at night, talking it through in the darkness, trying to come up with a solution. For a while their plans had been to take someone else with a minor ailment to Richard's doctor, to use that as an opportunity to see for themselves what the people were like. But in the last week or so Carl had become sick again, the tissue in his wound dying a rate that Denise couldn't keep up with. There was so much to weigh up, and Carrie hated seeing his turmoil. Rick was caught, struggling between keeping his child safe and keeping him healthy.

"If it makes any difference, you know I think you're making the right choice."

"It makes a difference," he quietly acknowledged. A cool breeze swept through Alexandria, one that prompted them to walk a little closer to one another. "Thank you."

"Who else is going with you?"

"A whole heap. Denise is a definite, she wants to come for Carl. Michonne, Daryl, Abraham and Rosita, Carol I think…Michael, Anna, Lana, Vetor, Mitchell. I think that's everyone."

"That leaves enough strength at home?" she asked, though she had no doubt in his plans.

"Yes. Tara, Glenn, Sasha and Mina will take the watch posts, Tobin and Spencer will monitor the surveillance cameras. Everyone is going to be on full alert, ready for anything."

"Good. It's a big group you're taking with you though…are you trying to intimidate them?"

"No," he said, scratching his short beard a little. "It's more about putting on a show, showing them our strength in numbers. If things go well Anna and Rosita want to see their doctor too, see if they can train Denise to insert IUDs."

"You definitely have the strength in numbers," she agreed, choosing her words and tone carefully. "Michonne, Daryl, Lana…you're not taking any weak links, not even Anna's a weak link anymore."

There was a long pause, Rick looking at the walls as they made their way past the townhouses, and then he responded. "You want to come," he stated.

"We talked about it…didn't we?"

"You weren't sure you wanted to make the trip. Not yet, anyway."

"You sound confident about this. Everyone does," she emphasised. "You always said the hardest part was getting them to agree to your visit and having the supplies to pay for any treatment…we got past that hurdle. They were eager, weren't they? They didn't give any resistance at all when you asked them."

"No."

"Is that what worries you? They were too keen on the idea?"

"No…that doesn't worry me. I didn't get that impression."

"Then what does worry you?"

He was silent for so long she wondered if he hadn't heard her question, but she could tell by the way his brow was furrowed that he was thinking, mulling over his thoughts. "I don't know what worries me…that's what worries me."

"I get it. It sounds too good to be true."

"It's not even that, it's just…I just don't know."

Carrie didn't say anymore, knowing that he rarely struggled with indecision, but when he did it paralysed him. If he couldn't make up his mind about something, pestering him for a decision was only going to make it harder for him to determine what he felt. Their slow walk brought them through the park space beside Gabriel's church, the very spot where they had been married two weeks ago. Carl had carved their new initials into the tree below which Aaron took their photographs, the best of which were now framed on their nightstands and in the living room. It was there that they settled onto the park bench, sitting side by side and still holding hands.

"Are you asking for my permission to go, or for my blessing?"

Carrie mulled over this question, giving serious consideration to her answer. "A little of both…but mainly your blessing."

At this he gave a heavy sigh, though she knew he appreciated her honesty. Though her body and choices belonged to only to her, she had come to understand the impact it had on him, that he was as equally invested in the life and wellbeing of their baby. He deserved at least some input into whether or not she joined them tomorrow, whether or not they risk their baby's safety in order to ensure their health. Denise was a thorough and careful doctor, she had cared for and delivered Herschel with great success, but she would be the first to admit that if a more experienced opinion was available, it should be taken.

"Carrie," he began slowly, putting his arm around her shoulder and moving closer. "If you want to go tomorrow, I won't try to stop you. We can make it work."

"What do you mean, make it work?" she questioned, wondering if he would try to enforce overly obtrusive terms and conditions.

"You'll wear a coat, your warmer one," he murmured, his fingers picking at the fabric of the one she wore now. "They don't need to know you're pregnant until we know it's safe to trust them. We shouldn't give them anymore opportunity to hold something against us."

"I think that's a good idea," she agreed, glad he didn't intend to make her wait in the car with a guard or something like that. "You're right. We don't need to give them an opportunity to take advantage."

As night fell and Rick checked his watch to ensure they were giving their family enough time, Carrie settled further against his side and brought her feet up onto the bench. She didn't feel particularly cold at the moment, and so she unzipped her coat and set her hand on her belly, liking the way it bulged out a little more prominently from the way she sat. At the moment her shape was still small enough to be hidden beneath a coat, but prominent enough that she could proudly show it of, that she could enjoy the way her shirts tightened and conformed to its shape.

Despite her aversion to the stretch marks and some other pregnancy symptoms she tried not to dwell on, she was coming to find that she liked the change in her body, that she was enjoying it so far. Rick too seemed to like it, he being the only one she allowed to touch her belly uninvited. While others had learnt to ask her permission first (a standard Maggie had encouraged her to enforce), she liked it when Rick brushed his hand over her belly, the way he touched her as they sat on the couch together or passed one another by. While she'd never harboured concern that he wouldn't be attracted to her anymore, she loved how invested he was, how eagerly he came to the ultrasounds and passionately debated the choice of name.

She smiled as she felt a tumbling sensation in her lower belly, and she reached down to press her hands against the place the movement came from. This sensation was the most commonly felt right now, for she didn't often feel or notice an actual kick. When she did it was more like a gentle twinge, something that made her frown in confusion until she paid attention and felt it again. If Maggie's experience was anything to go by one day soon those little twinges would develop into full blown kicks, the type that would make her squirm in discomfort and frustration. She remembered the day of Maggie's baby shower, her horrified fascination upon seeing Maggie's belly actually moving. Completely used to it, she put up with Herschel's movements until she couldn't take it anymore, and she gave her belly a firm push to make him stop, begging him to settle for just a little while.

When the movements continued she nudged Rick's leg to get his attention, noticing that he had been in deep thought. He looked around at her in concern, drawn from his thoughts to give her his full attention, but his features softened when she took his hand in hers. Moving around to properly reach, he let her press his hand against the front of her belly, his lips curving into a smile when he felt what she could. For a few happy minutes they sat in silence exactly like that, Rick patiently waiting for the baby to move again. When it became apparent that it had settled for now he reluctantly took his hand back, allowing her to zip her coat while he pressed his lips to the side of her forehead.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't like Meredith."

She didn't bother to hide the roll of her eyes, knowing he couldn't see it in the dim light anyway. "Yeah, I know. It's okay." Now that he had raised the subject she thought about something she had been meaning to ask, something she wasn't sure if he would answer honestly. "You know, you haven't suggested many girl's names. Are you hoping for a boy?"

At this comment Rick looked around at her, hastening to answer. "No. I'm not hoping for one in particular."

"It's okay if you are," she said sincerely.

"I'm not," he insisted, looking her in the eye. "I have a son and a daughter, this third baby is just a bonus. Are you?"

Carrie shrugged without immediate commitment, wondering if her honest answer made her a bad person. "I actually…I keep thinking that it's a boy," she said softly. "I haven't asked Denise, but I just…it's just what I'm thinking right now."

"Oh yeah?" he asked in interest. "A boy?"

"Maybe." At this she felt a burst of excitement inside herself, the same type she had felt the first time she noticed the baby move. "A little boy like Herschel would be nice. He's sweet when he's not crying or peeing on me."

Rick chuckled at this, having been there the day Maggie let her change a wet diaper. "It's not boys peeing _on_ you that you have to worry about."

"Oh?"

"More than once, Carl actually peed in my mouth."

"Ugh," Carrie grimaced, pulling a face as she imagined that happened. "Gross."

"Tell me about it. Took me two incidents to teach me to keep my mouth closed when I was changing diapers. And that's not the worst of it either. You remember that day I thought Judith had chocolate on her fingers, but really she put her hand into her diaper and then I-"

"You know what, I really don't need to know anymore right now," she said, sitting up and patting his arm. "You've got another four months left to gross me out, okay? Don't do it all at once."

He chuckled to himself, apologising softly. Checking the time on his watch he got to his feet and held his hand out to her, deciding it was time to return home for her surprise party. "So if it was a boy do you actually like Ethan, or are you just saying you like it?"

Carrie dithered, thinking about it. "Ethan Daryl Grimes," she said, getting used to the way the names felt in her mouth. "It's not that I dislike it, it's just that I don't…like it. We'll keep it on the list," she added, hating that he seemed disappointed. "It might grow on me, but definitely not Miles."

"Fine, I give up on Miles."

"Have you got any girl's names in mind?" she asked, bringing up her earlier comment. "Any at all?"

They slowed their pace as they passed Jessie's house, extending their walk for as long as possible, and then Rick reluctantly answered. "I have one that I like, but I know you won't like it."

"Go on, try me."

"No, you won't like it."

"Rick."

He sighed, scratching his beard before he answered. "Phoebe."

Carrie quirked her eyebrow at this. "That's not the name you think I won't like."

"How do you know?"

"Because I like that name. Phoebe Carol Grimes would be nice."

"I agree."

"So, what's the other name? The one you think I won't like?"

"Don't worry about it," he said dismissively. "You won't like it."

"But you do. Come on, just try me," she encouraged. "It can't be worse than Miles."

"Carrie…" he muttered in frustration, clearly reluctant. "Not tonight, okay?"

They had reached their front porch, and as she ascended the first step she turned around and blocked his way, smiling as she looked down on him. "Come on, please? I'm dying to know now," she said, nudging his shoulder. Suspecting it would help she linked her fingers together and placed them on the front of her belly, emphasising it's shape right in front of him. "Please?"

He still seemed reluctant, but when he released a heavy sigh she knew she had won. "Georgia," he began heavily. "I like Georgia, but I know you won't, and I understand why."

The answer made her breath catch in her throat, the simply utterance of that name making her body turn cold in a split second. She looked at him in disbelief, feeling as though he had betrayed her, that he had backed her into a corner she wouldn't be able to get out of. What the hell was he thinking suggesting that name to her, suggesting they name their daughter that?

"You're right, I don't like it," she stated lowly, her voice wavering. "Don't bring it up again."

She turned on her heel to storm into the house, catching the mixed look of frustration and apology in Rick's eyes, but she didn't care to hear him out. In a few short strides she reached the front door and swung it open, leaving him out in the cold where he deserved to stay. Her body was flooded with righteous anger, her fists clenched and her jaw set, but she was abruptly cut short as a dozen silhouettes suddenly emerged in front of her with a loud shout.

"Surprise!"

Caught completely unaware Carrie actually gave a short scream of shock, her heart leaping into her throat as the room bellowed at her. One hand came up to cover her mouth while the other instinctively drifted to the holster on her leg, but she caught up quickly enough to not actually remove her gun. All around were her friends and family, leaping out from behind furniture and from around corners, a large birthday banner stretched out between Eric and Eugene while Glenn opened a bottle of champagne. As reality set in Carrie looked at them all in disbelief, struggling to correct her current state of mind to the situation. She was filled with anger, ready for an argument that would see slammed doors and hurt feelings, not a celebration.

She turned and looked over her shoulder, seeing Rick following her in with a somewhat apprehensive expression. He looked her in the eye, his shoulders slumping around a sigh as he mouthed the words _I'm sorry_ to her.

"Jesus Christ on a stick, Rick!" Abraham yelled out in disapproval. "She was meant to take her gun off, not come storming in ready to shoot!"

Carrie burst out laughing, not because she found Abraham's comment amusing, but because she had to quickly adapt herself. Clearly a lot of effort had gone forth for this surprise, and she suspected a great deal of that effort had come from Carl, that this had been his work. In that instant she set aside her anger and disbelief in exchange for what she was supposed to feel today, happiness. It didn't take much to do this, and although that name _Georgia_ still echoed horribly in the back of her mind, she quickly found that there was no resisting the infectious mood of her surprise party.

"S'pise!" Judith shouted, strolling straight past Carrie and heading for the refrigerator. She slapped her palms against the door and turned around to everyone else, looking at them expectantly. "Cake? Cake, now?"

Without further ado the party began, everyone crowding around her in celebration and light hearted teasing. A glass of sparkling apple juice was placed into her hand, conversation rampant as everyone came forward to wish her a happy birthday, pointing her towards the dining room table where their carefully wrapped presents were waiting for her. Going along with it she released a slow breath and forced herself to enjoy this, her first birthday in Alexandria. The enthusiasm and excitement was infectious, making it easy for her to forget what Rick had said and instead focus on their friends and family, on rejoicing and thanking them for her gifts.

In no time at all the party was in full swing, and at all costs Carrie stopped thinking about what Rick said.

* * *

A/N Hey readers, please oh please give me a quick shout out for the chapter! Thanks for reading.


	22. Chapter 22

Friday November 21

The road ahead of him was familiar and without surprise, each bend of the road and landmark unchanged from the day before, but this morning Rick's hands gripped the RV's steering wheel tightly. Today was no routine journey into the city, the importance and uncertainty leaving him with a familiar anxiety lurking inside him. Every mile brought his group closer to something unknown. Something good, something bad…he didn't know which. Even now only five miles out of the city itself there was a part of him saying turn around, to err on the side of extreme caution by calling off the journey all together. But there was an even stronger part of him that told him to keep going, that little voice inside his head that compelled him to take a leap of faith, even if that leap brought his family along with him.

The weather was good, the roads fairly clear of Walkers…today was going to be a good day.

He had been awake before sunrise that morning, and not because he chose to get out of his warm bed to prepare for the journey, but because tension and anxiety saw him rousing throughout the night more often than usual. As his eyes flickered open he found Judith sleeping beside him, having sleepily stumbled out of her bed before creeping into his sometime during the night. She had learnt by now to sneak in via Carrie's side, for she tended to sleep a little heavier than Rick and so didn't often notice the intrusion. But that morning instead of putting her back in her own bedroom, which itself was a warm and happy sanctuary of pillows and toys, Rick let her stay. For the next half hour until he lay there next to his daughter, watching her sleep as his heart warmed to the way she tried to hold Carrie's hand throughout the night.

It wasn't long before Carrie too was awake, laying in their warm bed as she sleepily said good morning. She had automatically moved to come closer to him, stopped in her tracks when she realised Judith was there, not that she ever minded too much. As they lay there awake, neither of them wanting to get up and face the day they looked at one another. That morning it felt like it wasn't a sleeping child that lay between them, but an entire gulf of unspoken words, keeping them apart literally and figuratively.

He'd seen the look of hurt on her face when he suggested the name Georgia, the way her expression fell and her eyes filled with pain. But there hadn't been time for him to apologise, to brush it off and tell her to ignore him, not with dozens of their family and friends there to celebrate her birthday. To his relief she had adapted well, completely hiding the fact that a split second before they yelled surprise she was in anything but a celebratory mood. The party went well, the surprise well executed and the carrot cake delicious, Carrie being a good sport by wearing her party hat and indulging in some games.

Later that night though after every one had left, Rick had braced himself for the fight, for her to tear into him for suggesting the ill advised name for a daughter. But she did nothing of the sort, acting as if nothing at all had been said. At first Rick had erred, unsure of whether she had genuinely forgotten or whether she had hiding her true feelings, but many years of marriage had taught him to go with the flow. It was her birthday. If she wanted to put aside her anger in exchange for a back rub and sex then he wasn't going to argue with her. But the next morning as they lay awake with one another he wondered what she was thinking, if she was still upset with him for what he had said.

The name Georgia hadn't occurred to him until he and Carrie started preparing for their wedding. The days in which they awaited nice weather had been spent with him rehearsing his wedding vows, practicing saying her name out loud, Carlene Georgia Hartmann, and that's when the name struck him. Since then it had lingered in the back of his mind, a name that felt right for a daughter of he and Carrie. They had met in the state of Georgia, it was where they started falling in love even though neither of them knew it at the time…but it just happened to be the very name he knew Carrie would never approve of. While it meant great things to him, to her it meant quite the opposite.

Georgia was the name she had given to Granger's group, the four men who had coerced her into an agreement that they never intended to honour. She hadn't wanted them to know her real name, this being one of the few measures she had been able to protect herself with, to keep a barrier between herself and the men taking advantage of her. That was the name they uttered to her, the name grunted into her ear while they had sex with her. She thought she was making a one time deal, that after letting them use her they would leave, but it had quickly turned into the worst experience of her life, particularly when they stayed longer. It didn't matter that she had agreed, making the deal so that they would leave her group unharmed, coercion didn't constitute consent. Now Rick had brought that up again, the suggested name Georgia having very different meanings to each of them.

Yet while he was still dwelling on her reaction the following morning, he suspected that Carrie wasn't. It wasn't that she was avoiding a painful issue, though he wouldn't have blamed her for that, she just wanted to let it go. She had changed in that respect, that much Rick had come to realise. A few months ago she would have held on to his misstep, holding a grudge until she could bring it up and use it against him, but things had changed since she told him about the baby. It had been a relief for her to tell him, for although at the time she thought she was just trying to process the news in private, keeping the secret had left her feeling lonely and alienated. After she told him he could see a change coming over her, he could see how finally being able to lean on him for support had helped her in more than one respect. Much of her behaviour had changed, and she no longer seemed angry and confrontational over trivial things, able to cope with problems the way she used to before the day Pete had attacked.

Though he had always known she'd make a good mother, particularly having seen the way she loved and cared for Judith, Rick enjoyed the changes that pregnancy had brought upon her. Once things had settled down following the Wolves and the quarry herd he had watched in admiration as she started to enjoy her pregnancy, celebrating every milestone and passionately debating names with him. It had given her an unanticipated jolt of self-confidence, the impending birth of their child perhaps reminding her exactly what she was capable of. In hindsight it was clear to him now that Pete's attack had affected her more than he realised, and that now things were changing for her.

Today she sat in the passenger seat of the RV, her arms folded as she watched the scenery flashing by. The happy and content glow of pregnancy was gone today, for right now they had more important things to worry about than the name of their unborn child. In spite of the trust that had grown between the two groups there was still the acknowledgement that they were facing an uncertain force, that they didn't know what they were getting themselves in to. Today their focus was on the safety of their people, and pending that, Carl's health. If things went well they would seek a second opinion for the health of their baby, but right now that was quite low on their list of priorities.

They had left early that morning, departing a little before eight o'clock so as to get an early start into the city. They had packed the night before, bringing with them the agreed upon supplies that Richard was expecting, and so it was with minimal fuss that those going had piled into the RV to make the journey. Those left behind would have the security of Alexandria more than adequately covered, those like Sasha and Glenn taking care of things for as long as they needed to.

As he drove he intermittently glanced into the rearview mirror, habitually keeping watch of the travellers who occupied the RV. Crowded around the small table playing cards were Carl, Daryl, Lana and Anna, while Abraham watched on from the padded bench seat, casually slouched but ready for anything. Opposite him were Denise and Carol, the former clutching at the thick folder of Carl's medical records. With it normally stored in a locked filing cabinet Denise was unlikely to let that folder out of her sight today, particularly given it contained photographs of Carl's wound taken weekly for the last five months. She knew how he hated those pictures, that every time she subjected him to the weekly photograph it was for his own benefit, but that each click reminded him there was print evidence of something he actively tried to obscure.

Beside her was Carol, and despite their close proximity the two women travelled in silence, Carol's attention focused on the world outside the safety of the RV. She was keeping vigilant watch out the side window and windscreen, taking in everything from the clouds that warned of rain to the number of Walkers on the road. Rick was glad that she had come with them today, for not only was she easily underestimated by strangers, she had been distant lately. She didn't visit as often, didn't volunteer to take Judith for a couple of hours every now and then. Many things had changed since the day Alexandria came under attack, the sheer brutality of the deaths their people suffered having stayed with all of them, but particularly so with Carol. Sam's death had hit her hard, though it wasn't something discussed, not by anyone.

Elsewhere in the RV, Michonne, Rosita and Mitchell were crammed into the back bedroom, trying to gain precious minutes of sleep after having taken the late watch shifts the night before. The only other traveller on today's journey was Vetor, who had been invited only at Rick's tentative discretion. It had been no secret among Alexandria that Vetor hadn't been part of the crew that met with Richard's group in the city, and that he had been quite vocal about his dissatisfaction. Despite openly disliking him, Rick was appropriately cautious about the consequences of excluding him too much. Dislike aside, perhaps keeping Vetor at arm's length wasn't the best way to deal with the thorn in his side. He needed to make him feel like a part of the community, that he had something at stake here. Besides, it had been some time since they'd heard Vetor talking about wanting to leave Alexandria, his plan to rob them apparently having fallen out of favour even with him. That change deserved be acknowledged by Rick, which was perhaps the final reason that had compelled him to be invited.

"Gin, bitches!"

There was a murmur of annoyance from those at the card table, Abraham watching on with a chuckle of amusement.

"Fuck no," Daryl cursed in dismay, throwing down his cards. "C'mon, you gotta be cheatin'."

"Nope," Lana gloated, collecting the cards and starting to shuffle them. "I'm just better than you…three times already."

"Carl, look under the table," Daryl instructed gruffly. "She gotta be hidin' cards."

As he listened to Lana playfully gloating, Rick glanced into the rearview mirror at Vetor, observing the way he sat on the interior step in silence. His arms were folded and his face set in a scowl, and despite the jovial laughter mere feet away he didn't look up. It was an important reminder that he and Lana didn't seem to be on speaking terms right now, that he was giving her the cold shoulder. When she was late yesterday morning everyone knew where she was, that she was intentionally delaying her arrival so that it would get up Vetor's nose. She had spent the morning in bed with Spencer, arriving late with a bright red hickey on her neck to make sure Vetor knew what she had been doing. Their current state of their relationship served to caution Rick, reminding him to keep an eye on them…he didn't need problems today.

Sooner than seemed fair they had arrived in the city, the next card game winding down prematurely as everyone's focus changed. Silence fell, people sitting up straighter in their chairs while Michonne, Rosita and Mitchell roused in the bedroom. As they made their way over the bridge they caught glimpses of the major landmarks, the peak of the Washington Monument visible from a distance, but that was not their destination today.

Sipping from a thermos of coffee, Michonne came into the main cabin and sat down on the floor, and as if drawn by a magnet Carl left his seat at the table to join her. From the few glimpses he managed to take Rick saw that he seemed cool and calm on the surface, but as his father he knew he was worried. Since it had first been suggested a little over a month ago Carl had grown resistant to the idea of going to Richard's group to see their doctor. He didn't want his health to be the reason his group were led into a trap, into something they couldn't make it out of alive. But when the current infection had surfaced and they had Richard's agreement, it had been Rick who made the decision for him. He simply told Carl that it was happening, that they were going…it was to his relief that he reluctantly agreed.

Unfolding the map and spreading it across the dashboard, Carrie sat forward in her seat as she found their current location, Abraham and Rosita looking over her shoulder and conferring. Though their route had already been confirmed last night, Carrie kept watch of their location as they moved through the city, familiar enough with it from her days on the run crew. Leaving the Washington Monument and the city centre behind they travelled to the northern suburbs, honing in on the place that Richard had told them to be at nine o'clock that morning. It was surprisingly populated with Walkers up here, at least three or four of them occupying each street, but there were the anticipated signs that the area was occupied by more than the dead.

The streets were cleared not with the intention of creating an easy path through the abandoned cars, but to hide the fact that a path existed at all. Methodically arranged, the vehicles at first appeared to be abandoned in the midst of the evacuation, but between each was a space large enough to admit a large car or small truck. There was a path no doubt, just one tricky to notice and navigate, and there was no doubt they were intentionally arranged. As they came closer and closer to the meeting location Rick began to regret their choice of bringing the RV, the long vehicle scraping past a couple of cars here and there. Despite hitting a stretch of relatively clear road Rick's tension grew, as did everyone else's. If this was indeed a trap, they weren't going to make a quick escape of it in the RV. They should have brought individual cars, but they were too far in to turn back now.

"Canning's Carpet Court," Rosita announced, pointing to a brick building a hundred yards ahead of them.

"That's it," Carrie agreed, consulting the map again. "Turn right before that, and then we're there."

There was a thud and spatter of blood as he ran over a Walker without a second thought, but before turning right as instructed Rick slowed the RV to a stop in the middle of the street. The group's silence lingered as they sat there waiting, everyone looking out their windows to observe their surroundings. As he too looked for any kind of bad sign Rick started to doubt himself, not because he was worried, but because suddenly he wasn't. It was a most surprising feeling, for although he would still honour a certain level of caution that would never lapse, a part of him already felt like things were okay. It was an odd state of mind, one he hadn't occupied many times before.

When he glanced at his watch he was glad they had left a little earlier than planned, their journey through the northern suburbs having taken longer than it should have given the difficulty getting the RV safely through the maze of abandoned cars. They were now only fifteen minutes ahead of their nine o'clock meeting, putting the pressure on them to scope out the unknown area. They would make a foot patrol, for although they had intently studied the area by map, the translation to reality was always a little different.

"Let's keep this giant rolling turd of a vehicle rolling," Abraham muttered, crouched between Rick and Carrie as he peered through the windscreen.

In agreement Rick started forward again, glancing in the rearview mirror as everyone began drawing the shades. Adhering to their prearranged plans Carrie got up from the front seat and headed into the back, accepting Abraham's hand to steady her as she went. While Michonne got up from the floor Carrie and Denise took her place, sitting in the small hallway beside Carl where they were to wait. They were the most vulnerable today, and were only to reveal themselves at Rick's instruction.

Slowly turning right just before the carpet store, Rick brought the RV into the rear parking lot as Richard had instructed. Wanting to be ready to flee at a moment's notice he swung the RV around and then put it in reverse, backing up so that a quick escape could be made back the way they had come. Bringing it to a stop in the centre of the parking lot he let the engine idle as the group looked around once more, acquainting themselves with the new setting. There were only two ways to go, left back the way they had come, and right past a grove of overgrown trees and gardens.

Without a word Rick removed the keys from the ignition and picked up his rifle, this automatically ushering everyone else into action too. There was no need to provide instructions or go over the plan that everyone knew back to front, and so one by one the agreed upon group began filing out of the RV. Left behind were Carrie, Carl and Denise, kept safe by Anna and Mitchell who also stayed behind with them. Going on ahead Rick and the others dispersed themselves outward around the RV, splitting into pairs.

They made it barely twenty yards before the sound of hooves on the asphalt saw them falling back in haste, the sound of an approach coming from two sides. With perfect choreography they fell into two groups flanking either end of the RV, Michonne backing herself up against the main door of the cabin where she stood with her katana drawn, ready to protect those inside. Satisfied that everyone was in position, Rick readjusted the rifle butted up against his shoulder and then started forward, the sound of the hooves slowing as they came closer.

Two pairs of riders on horseback appeared from different directions, two men appearing down the road they had just entered by, and a man and woman appearing near the overgrown shrubbery in the other direction. They approached in silence, and though they were instantly recognisable to Rick he did not let his guard down. He was uncomfortably aware of the fact that they were on the back foot here, that they were not in territory they were comfortable with…they were in the other group's domain, and so were at a disadvantage.

As the two pairs of riders came together they looked at Rick expectantly, and there was a heavy silence as the two groups stood off from one another, waiting for someone to make the first move. It was Richard who took action first, dismounting his horse and then cautiously coming closer. In his hand he held a handgun pointed at the ground, a precaution he had never felt necessary during their more recent trade meetings.

"Some new faces here," he commented, gesturing to Carol and Vetor.

"Yes," Rick agreed. "As we discussed."

Acknowledging this, Richard came closer once more and peered at the windows of the RV whose shades were drawn. "I want everyone out," he instructed, his tone very straightforward. "Everyone out, and lined up."

There was a long pause now, Rick's group waiting for him to give the signal to obey. He waited a moment longer, gauging what Richard might say next, but then he chose not to push things too far. Looking over his shoulder he made eye contact with Michonne, a curt nod indicating that it was alright. Without further preamble she stepped aside and then opened the door, speaking to those inside while the rest of them began filing into a line up. Noting Richard's approval, Rick stood back a little and observed his group, approving of the way Anna, Mitchell, Carrie, Carl and Denise exited the RV with their guns held at the ready, but without implying a direct threat. As she stepped out he cast a careful eye over the shape of Carrie's body, pleased that her coat hid any evidence of the fact she was six months pregnant. Without a word they fell into place along the line, Carl coming to stand by Rick's side as previously instructed.

Richard appeared to be scrutinising each and every one of them, taking care to keep a respectful and cautious distance as he looked at them. His features softened for a split second when he looked at Carl and the bandage over his eye, but his brow furrowed when he cast his eyes over Carrie, perhaps surprised to see her there.

"Carrie, right?" he asked politely. "It's been a while since we've seen you at the trade meetings."

"It's been a while," she agreed. Though she wasn't trying to be threatening, she made a point of readjusting the grip she had on the rifle she carried, holding Richard's gaze until he looked away.

"If that's everyone," Richard began as he returned his attention to Rick. "Then you won't mind us taking a look inside?"

Rick simply nodded in cooperation, glancing over his shoulder when Dianne and Daniel dismounted their horses and approached the RV. They drew their handguns and then entered, the perfect synchrony of their teamwork to cover one another reminding Rick of how close knit this group was. There was much to learn yet, but he had suspected all along that they weren't too dissimilar to his own. As they waited he listened to the sound of Dianne and Daniel moving through the RV, the creak of the floor board outside the bathroom and the sound of the overhead cupboards in the bedroom opening and closing. A short while later they came back out, Daniel returning to their horses while Dianne joined Richard. They talked quietly between themselves, Richard raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"You brought fire extinguishers and video games?"

"Was that not our agreement?" Rick questioned politely.

"What's in the bag?" he asked next, looking at Carol and gesturing to the backpack she wore.

At this Carol gave a tentative smile, raising her hands to her shoulders. "Do you want me to show you?"

There was a pause now, Richard's group standing still before Colton came forward. Holstering his gun he walked around their long line giving them a wide berth, and then he came up behind Carol and removed the bag himself. Backing away a few yards he put the bag down and started to empty it, removing a few containers of food, water, medical kit and then finally two handguns and a box of rounds.

"That's all," Colton declared, tossing all items back inside except the gun and box of ammunition. Still giving them a wide berth he made his way back around to the front of the line where Richard was waiting, showing them what he had confiscated.

"That's all you brought with you?" Richard questioned Rick.

"Yes."

"I told you to pack a bag to stay," he reminded him, sounding impatient now. "For you and your son at least."

Rick shook his head. "We don't intend to stay longer than necessary."

At this Dianne seemed to shake her head to herself, sharing a loaded glance with Richard before returning to her horse. Mounting it again, she and Daniel came around the front to join the rest of their group, looking down at them and keeping careful watch of every move they made.

"Judging by the photograph you showed us yesterday, you and your son should have packed a bag like I suggested." There was a brief pause, Richard's gaze settling on Carl for a moment. "It doesn't matter. Should you chose to stay, we can accomodate you."

Rick didn't say anything in response to this. There was a flurry of discomfort among all those present, everyone able to gauge Rick's intention that they weren't there to stay.

"The vehicle stays outside," Richard instructed, finally getting on with things. "And you gotta hand over your guns and your…other weapons," he trailed off, gesturing to Daryl's crossbow and Michonne's katana.

"No," Rick responded without hesitation. "We can't do that."

"It's not negotiable."

"Then our fire extinguishers are not negotiable. Let's be reasonable here," he debated. "I'm not bringing my people anywhere unless they can defend themselves as necessary. _That_ is not negotiable."

"There'll be no need for you to defend yourselves," Colton assured them from atop his horse.

"In which case, our weapons will not pose a threat to you."

"In which case you won't need them," he argued in exasperation.

Richard stopped him before he could say anything more, a simple look over his shoulder asking Colton to fall silent. There was a heavy silence as Richard and Rick looked at one another, waiting for the other to submit. In this case Rick was not willing to give up his group's ability to protect itself, not with eleven lives on the line here. If push came to shove and a compromise had to be made, he and Carl would enter Richard's community alone, leaving his group outside and armed, ready to take action should they need back up. But thankfully the compromise didn't come from his side, with Richard taking a deep breath and then speaking.

"Having a weapon is like having a dick," he began heavily, pausing to let his words sink in. "I'm okay with you having one, as long as you don't take it out and wave it in my face."

Beside him Carl shifted his weight, leaning closer to him for a moment. "What does that mean?"

"It means keep your gun holstered," he quietly said. Satisfied with the compromise, Rick turned to his group and subtly gestured to their weapons. Understanding, there was a flurry of clicks and adjustments as they holstered their hand guns and slung their rifles over their shoulder, and as expected it was Daryl who moved last. Always less trusting than anyone else, he was slower to put Carl's crossbow over his shoulder, and he looked rather unsettled without something to hold in his hands. They too playing nice, Colton came forward and returned the gun and box of ammunition to Carol, softening a little at her polite nod of thanks.

"There'll be no need to defend yourself inside our walls," Richard said, coming towards Rick. "So there'll be no need for those weapons in your hands. Do we have an understanding?"

When Richard extended his hand Rick reached for it without hesitation, grasping it in the hand shake they made after every trade meeting. "We have an understanding."

In an instant there was a flurry of relief from all, and though they weren't letting their guards down, it was clear that the tension had dissipated. Despite this no hint of a smile appeared on Richard's face, though his usual grimace softened when he turned to Carl and extended his hand to him.

"I'm Richard. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I'm Carl," he replied, taking his hand and shaking it. "Same."

Releasing Carl's hand he stepped back and addressed the whole group, though it was mainly directed to Carl. "We have a little over a mile to walk. Will you be okay to make it that far, or would you prefer to ride Tanner?" he offered, gesturing to the horse without a rider.

"He's okay, thanks," Rick answered on his behalf, wanting him within arm's reach at all times. "Are we ready to go?"

Appreciating his urgency, Richard nodded and then turned back to his group, a short jerk of his head giving a unspoken instruction. While he mounted his horse Rick turned to his own people, and with a simple nod of approval they fell into their delegated roles.

"Leave the supplies," Richard instructed. "We'll come back for them later. The vehicle will be safe here."

With Dianne and Daniel leading the way Rick's group began to follow on foot, Richard and Colton bringing up the rear on horseback. As they walked down the abandoned streets and maze of cars they went relatively unbothered by the Walkers, and the closer they came to their destination the fewer they became. What had once been a nice, middle class suburb was now littered with weeds and overgrown grass, the occasional burnt out building. Not completely unlike the surrounding suburbs near Alexandria, Palmyra seemed as abandoned and derelict as another other.

Finally they turned right and found the street ahead of them clear, and then a hundred yards down there were the walls protecting Richard's community. Not unlike Alexandria's they were tall and imposing, the only indication of what was inside them being the brick faced building and flag pole that could be seen over the top. Fluttering in the soft breeze was an American flag, and even from a distance Rick could tell it was in perfect condition, a stark contrast to the tattered and bedraggled flags usually found hanging outside abandoned homes.

As they drew nearer Rick held his breath, seeing two people appearing at the top of the wall with guns raised. There they stayed for one long moment, a moment in which was ready to have his group fall back, but with trust he let them keep going forward. Riding ahead of them Dianne raised her arm high in the air, holding it there before swinging it down to the right, a clear signal that everything was okay. The guns were lowered now, one of the people up there disappearing from sight while the other stayed, keeping watch on the strangers approaching.

"We weren't expecting you so soon," the figure called out, looking down at them critically.

"They were early, that's all," Dianne assured them. "Is the King ready for us?"

Frowning in bemusement, Rick stopped and then turned back to Richard, the rest of his group also slowing to a premature stop. "The King?"

"Don't worry. You're not expected to bow," he assured him, dismounting his horse while the others did the same. He gestured towards the imposing gates before them, a heavy clang of metal pre-empting is opening. "Welcome to The Kingdom."

Rick looked at him in disbelief, unsure of whether or not he was being serious with him. But there wasn't time to question it, not with the gates ahead of them opening. As they moved outward Rick took a step closer to Carl, his hand resting on his Colt and ready to draw, while he cast his eyes over the rest of his group. Everyone looked ready but hopeful, braced for anything but eager to see it. For a moment he let his eyes linger on Carrie, assured that her coat was still zipped up to hide her pregnancy. She could protect herself if something happened, and she'd be surrounded by their group at all times…it was going to be okay.

Assured of this, Rick looked through the gates to the wide open space inside, getting his first glimpse at The Kingdom. To his right was the brick building he had glimpsed before the gates opened, the structure spanning the length of the dirt road that stretched straight out ahead of him. At the end was yet another brick building, and in the split second he had to observe them it hit him what this place was. Multiple brick buildings with perfectly aligned windows, right in the middle of an otherwise suburban area…it had to be a school.

Without warning Michonne was at his side, her usual blank stare of intimidation replaced with tentative relief. "You hear that?" she asked softly. "Listen."

It took him barely a moment to hear what she did, and it was a sound he had heard once before, the day his family had arrived at Alexandria for the first time. This sound alone told him that everything was going to be alright.

"I said tag!" a girl shouted in exasperation. "Toby, I got you! I said I - Tag!"

"Tag back!"

"You can't tag me back, you have to get someone else first!"

"You're it! You're it!"

"That's not the rules! Toby…"

Rick turned to Michonne, an optimistic smile coming across his face. "Yeah. I hear that."

Brushing his hand over Carl's shoulder Rick started forward, and at this motion the rest of the group did the same. Despite his tentative confidence they stayed in an loose but organised formation, their strongest flanking the outside while those like Denise and Carl stayed towards the middle. As they entered the Kingdom and the gates closed behind them Rick was briefly struck by a fleeting memory, the concrete and brick buildings reminding him of Terminus. But the atmosphere here couldn't be more different, that much he could tell before even taking ten paces inside. already he could sense a happiness that wasn't shrouded in naivety and blindness. As they entered The Kingdom the gates closed behind them, locking them in.

"Susanne, Toby!" Colton called out, bringing his horse over to their left. "You know you can't play near the walls, go inside!"

Flanking either side of the gate were two yellow school buses, the sight of which made Rick's heart ache because his two youngest children would never take one of those to school. Two children came bursting out of the door, a young boy laughing gleefully as the girl pursued him, but as Colton called out to them again she slowed to a stop.

"But Col," she pleaded, huffing at the other boy who stopped further down the road taunting her. "Toby's not playing properly."

"Do as you're told, now. Don't come near the walls again."

"But he's not…"

Susanne trailed off as she laid eyes on the group of strangers, her lips parting in surprise as she stared at them for a moment. Even as she caught up with Toby her eyes were trained on them, fascinated by the new faces she hadn't been expecting to see. Despite her curiosity she lunged at Toby with a triumphant shout of _tag!_ before bursting into a run, leaving him momentarily bewildered before he gave chase. As they watched them go Richard and Dianne handed their horses to the others and began leading the newcomers down the long dirt road, and as they walked their eyes roamed, taking in as much information as possible.

As they reached the building ahead of them they went not inside, but around to the right instead, and as they braced themselves to see what was on the other side Rick felt his spirits soaring. Already he could feel the life and buzz of activity ahead of them, the beautiful sound of a peaceful community, and when they came around the side of the building there it was. It was completely unlike any community he had seen, for while Alexandria was a quiet little community at the best of times, this one was abuzz with activity, dozens of people milling around and chattering about as though it was any other day.

The wide open space was abundant with garden beds that overflowed with greenery and produce, a wide array of supplies such as filing cabinets, barrels and old tyres making up the majority. Careful not to stray too far from his group, Rick wandered closer to one of the plants that grew in a barrel, observing the perfect green leaves that were free of insects and fungi. Letting his fingers brush over a hanging pod he resisted the urge to open it to see the peas inside, to taste the fresh produce he himself took so much pride in. Like Alexandria, these people had not held themselves back when it came to growing food, not in any respects.

A few yards away a goat was bleating in discontent, impatiently stamping its hooves as someone tidied up in it's enclosure, checking on the feed and water. Further over was a sty of pigs that lay in the dirt soaking up the morning sun, while another enclosure was chaos of squawking hens, feathers and cursing, three men inside doing their best to catch one in particular. Nearer to the brick buildings was an enclosed yard, the quaint stables accomodating a number of horses currently being tended to by Benjamin, the young man who often accompanied Richard to their trade meetings. Having noticed their arrival he was approaching the enclosure's fence, leaning against it as he watched them from afar.

A jogging group of about twenty moved past now, each of them clad in the same body armour that Richard wore, and as they passed by the newcomers they glanced at them in curiosity, looking them up and down before continuing on. Others nearby were doing the same, pausing their work to look up in curiosity, whispering or calling out to one another to alert them to the visitors they had been expecting.

"We call this area Central Park," Richard explained as he showed them through, walking slowly enough that they had time to take it all in. "It used to be the centre of The Kingdom, hence the name, but we've expanded since then, so don't use this area to orient yourself if you get lost."

"Lost?" Vetor questioned skeptically. "This is big enough to become lost in?"

Richard nodded. "It's taken us a long time, but we've managed to close in the entire campus, so there are plenty of places to end up when you're lost. If you don't know your way around the buildings can start to look the same."

"If you do become lost, there are letters on the side of each building," Dianne spoke up, pointing one out. "We'll get you a map too if you decide to stay."

"Excuse me," Richard muttered, turning away and walking off without another word.

Rick watched him making his way to where he met up with someone, a tall bearded man whose attire made him frown. His long black hair appeared to be neatly tied back in a low bun, but it was the floor length red coat that had Rick's attention. Even at a distance he could see that the satiny material was quilted, it's appearance reminding him of the dressing gown his grand mother used to wear. Despite his attire it seemed the man had some kind of importance here, he and Richard talking very seriously for a few moments.

"Before we meet the King," Dianne began, her tone of voice indicating she wanted their full attention. "You're guests here in The Kingdom, and you'll be treated as such so long as you can follow some simple rules. All around this place you'll find steel fences and gates between the buildings, it's important that when you go through them you close them behind you. Don't ever leave them open, not for any reason."

"What are they for?" Anna asked, casting her eyes around to see one.

"The interior fences keep the entire Kingdom sectioned off. If we have an outbreak of dead inside the walls, it's contained by the fences until we can manage the problem. It's the same deal with exterior doors to buildings, and some interior doors that are marked too. Close them after yourself, and do not leave them propped open. Doing that will earn you a week on toilet duty. Speaking of which, you'll find the main toilet facilities near M Block, D Bock and F Block," she continued, pointing in the various directions around Central Park. "You're free to use them at any time, but I ask that you don't go without one of my people escorting you. You may be guests here, but you're also strangers. If any of you are found to be walking around here unsupervised you'll be considered a threat to our safety. Is that clear?"

"That's understood," Rick assured her, speaking on behalf of his group. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, your weapons," Richard answered now, having returned. Behind him the tall man in the red coat had departed, disappearing into a far building. "Most of the adults around here carry a firearm and a blade of some kind, but we're very strict in the management of these weapons. If it's not in your holster, your weapons need to be in a designated gun safe."

"We'll keep them in our holsters, like we agreed."

"Good," he said bluntly, looking Rick in the eye. "Because we have seventeen children under the age of twelve here. We've already had two instances in which a child has picked up an unsupervised firearm and shot someone. The responsibility for their safety is on us, not on their judgement."

"We understand," Rick said again, wanting to make their cooperation absolutely clear. "Is that all?"

There was a brief pause now, Richard and Dianne looking at one another for a moment. "We'll take you to see the King now, but I have to warn you. You'll be in for a…shock."

Dianne cleared her throat. "It's more of a surprise really…only small."

"A surprise then," Richard corrected himself, shifting the weight between his feet. "But let me assure you that no surprise inside these walls will warrant you drawing your weapons. Our agreement that they stay in your holster still stands."

"What's the surprise?" Abraham asked loudly, the volume of his voice capturing the attention of the community members around him. His question seemed to make some of them laugh, and now they watched the group of strangers with even greater interest.

"It's better to be seen than told," Richard replied cryptically.

Slightly unnerved, for he questioned the warning not to draw their weapons in response to whoever was waiting for them, Rick took a step forward. Making the effort to not come across as too confrontational, he looked Richard in the eye and held his gaze, making a point of letting his hand rest on the handle of his Colt where it would stay.

"If you try anything on us, my group will defend itself more than adequately."

Despite this reminder, Richard stood strong in his position. "You won't need to defend yourself. You have my word."

A long moment came to pass now, and though Rick had already come to the decision that he would face whatever this surprise might be, he allowed the silence to stretch on a little. Finally he gave a short nod of agreement and then looked around at his group, another short nod of the head telling them to carry on. Without further ado they followed Richard across Central Park towards the far buildings, the other people around still watching in great interest. If he wasn't mistaken a few of them seemed to be smirking, holding back laughter, though for some reason it didn't unnerve him like it could have. He sensed no malevolence from these people, his gut telling him that everything was alright.

"Hey," Benjamin called out to them as they approached. He rested his forearms on the iron fence and watched them in interest, though it was quickly apparent that his attention was mainly on Carl. Making eye contact with him he raised his hand and waved casually. "It's Carl, right? I'm Benjamin."

Carl didn't say anything in response, looking at him for a moment before turning away. Rick suspected that it wasn't personal, for Carl had heard Benjamin's name before, had heard that he was often present on the days their groups traded. It was the ease of being recognised that bothered him, for although there was no one else who could be mistaken for him, everyone in the Kingdom would learn to recognise him for the bandage over his eye. They all had to know who was being brought there that day, and why he needed to see their doctor.

Behind Benjamin a horse pawed the ground, impatiently nudging the back of his shoulder before leaning down to nuzzle his side. He turned back to her with an apology, affectionately rubbing her nose as he slipped his hand into his pocket, but by the time he pulled out the desired piece of carrot Rick's group had passed him without a word.

Without preamble they followed Richard and Dianne into the Auditorium building and found themselves passing through an entry foyer, where what looked like a Biblical verse was painted onto the wall in old English script. _Hope is the North star. Let it guide you. K.E_ _._ Glancing at it for only a moment, Rick doubted that it had been there when this place functioned as a school, that it had come from this so called King Ezekiel.

When they entered the small hallway on the other side of the foyer, Rick automatically moved in front of Carl, making sure that he was the one in front of him and grateful when Carol and Daryl did the same. Seamlessly they readjusted their formation to account for the cramped space, Carrie, Denise and Carl being ushered to the middle while others brought up the rear, keeping their most vulnerable protected as they entered the unknown.

The first thing he noticed was the sloping floor of the theatre, and with Richard right in front of him Rick continued to follow him even as his eyes struggled to adjust to the change of light. What he could see in those few seconds wasn't unexpected, just red carpet and rows of numbered seating to his left and right, and ahead of him was what must be the stage. It was brightly lit by a number of stage lights, and he squinted at them as they continued down the aisle. He could hear an ominous rumbling that caused a flicker of alarm, but as his eyes adjusted the first thing he could make out was a set of medieval backdrops on the stage, and then in the centre what could only be described as a throne. Casually lounged in the grand wooden chair must be King Ezekiel, but as Rick began to study him, already gauging his demeanour, he noticed something else…something he couldn't possibly be seeing.

He came to a hasty stop and threw his arm out, catching Carol across the middle and bringing her to a stop too. In an instant his entire group had the same reaction, coming to a dead stop in the centre of the aisle as their hands drifted towards their weapons, and it could only be Richard's repeated warnings that they were not to do so that stopped them drawing their guns. There was a painful silence in the auditorium, and ahead of them Richard had slowed to a stop and turned to face them, his expression serious.

"Everything's alright," he said softly, trying to reassure them.

Rick spared him a glance and then looked back at the stage in shock, unable to believe what he was seeing. Seated next to the grand throne was nothing other than a tiger, restrained only by a chain around it's neck that was held loosely in the hand of the figure beside it. As if there was nothing unusual about any of it, the figure sat up straight and moved forward on the throne.

"I welcome you all to the Kingdom, fair travellers," King Ezekiel began in welcome, projecting his voice across the auditorium to where they stood at the back.

Behind him there was a flurry of movement, and a moment later he saw Carl coming to his side, standing up on the balls of his feet to see over Daryl's shoulder. "Dad…am I the only one who can see that tiger?"

"No, I see it too," he said darkly.

"Cool…"

Tearing his eyes away from it Rick looked over his shoulder to the rest of his group, taking in the myriad of horror and disbelief he could see. Eyes transfixed to the stage they stared at the tiger in sheer disbelief, struggling to comprehend that what they were seeing was real. Michonne's eyes were wide and her jaw set, ready for a confrontation with her arm reaching over her shoulder, her katana already a few inches unsheathed. Denise was pushing her glasses further up her nose while Anna and Mitchell looked dumfounded, unsure of what to do next. Behind them Vetor was whispering something to Lana, his angered expression a stark contrast to her eyes which were alight with wonder and awe. At the very back stood Abraham, who perhaps for the first time in his life was speechless. He stared with his mouth agape, words could not compute.

Hearing the tiger growling Rick turned back to the stage, his heart thundering in his chest as the entire group shuffled back half a step. It had gotten to its feet now, legs bent and shoulders hunched as it continued to growl threateningly.

"Shiva," King Ezekiel said next, his tone one of a parent scolding a child. "Enough. They are our guests."

Rick felt a hand coming to rest on the top of his shoulder, and he didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Carrie had been surprisingly calm when he glanced at her a moment ago, and her levelheadedness could be heard in her voice when she softly spoke to him.

"Rick. This isn't even top five of the worst things we were expecting today."

Her statement was simple, one might even argue too simple, but it served as a reassurance nonetheless. They had prepared themselves to face a many number of things today, and a mad mad with a tiger didn't crack the top five.

"…understand your concern, Shiva. You haven't met these people. Nor have I," Ezekiel said, attempting to soothe her. "But we shall consider them a friend of the realm until proven otherwise." There was a brief pause now, Ezekiel looking up at the group of strangers at the top of the aisle. "I am King Ezekiel. Welcome to the Kingdom."

There was a heavy silence, Rick's group still unsure of what to do next, and even though part of him wanted to have his people fall back and get the hell out of there, when Richard ushered them further down the aisle Rick turned to his people and gave them a nod of approval. Though going with caution, they made their way further down the aisle, breathing a sigh of relief only when the tiger paced in a wide circle before settling down beside Ezekiel. A low rumble continued to be heard, but moments later it quietened. Not wanting to get too close they stopped a couple of rows from the front and spread out a little, moving left and right into the rows so they could all see the threat in front of them.

The tiger's inactivity allowed Rick a moment to take stop of the situation, and he looked at this King Ezekiel with a critical eye. He took in his appearance and his clothing, the way he draped himself across the throne…he had one arm dangling over the side scratching the top of the tiger's head as thought it was a domesticated house cat. And the tiger…the damn tiger was purring. As the heavy silence stretched on Rick looked around properly, taking note of the various exits like he always did, but of who else was there too. Beneath a spotlight was the tall man in the red quilted robe he had seen talking to Richard, standing to Ezekiel's right and holding in front of him a double headed battle axe. A stark contrast to the newcomers, he looked down at them all with a jolly smile, looking pleased to have them here.

"You have been addressed by the King, yet you remain silent," Ezekiel prompted, speaking directly to Rick now. "Do I detect skepticism? Perhaps you think me mad…"

Rick's lips parted as he prepared to answer, but before his first through could come tumbling out of his mouth he stopped himself, thinking better of it. He faltered, feeling so ridiculously bewildered he couldn't find words that wouldn't come across in the wrong way. There was a tiger…it was right there in front of him, yet it was taking a little while to sink in.

"So tell me," Ezekiel continued, leaning forward. "What do you think of the Kingdom, Rick? What do you think, of the King?"

Tearing his eyes away from the tiger, Rick looked the King in the eye and finally managed to find words. "No one told me I'd be meeting royalty," he started slowly, pausing after. "I'd have worn a nicer shirt."

A beat passed, Ezekiel holding his gaze for a moment as he considered what he had said, and the a smile slowly crept across his features. Apparently satisfied with Rick's response, Ezekiel straightened up in his chair and turned to the man on his right.

"Ahh, Jerry," he began in exasperation. "Where are my manners?" he asked, gesturing to something down by Rick's left.

At this the red cloaked man, Jerry, hastened to the front of the stage and made his way down the steps, heading towards a small table where he set aside his battle axe. He turned and approached Rick with an enormous bowl of fruit, eagerly bringing it towards him.

"Please, partake," Ezekiel said warmly. "We have magnificent apples, nectarines, pomegranates. All grown right here inside the Kingdom."

"It's fruit time," Jerry said cheerfully.

His jolly smile did little to gain Rick's affections, and when he offered the bowl of fruit towards Carol he shook his head. The slight gesture of his hand was all it took for Carol to refuse what was being offered, not that she likely would have taken it anyway.

"Come now. At least take a pomegranate."

Carol smiled pleasantly, but shook her head. "I-I've always found them to be too much trouble," she said apologetically.

"Sweet fruit surrounded by the bitter," Ezekiel agreed, looking at her in curiosity. "They're something of a contradiction, but heaven for the effort."

Annoyed, Rick took a step forward. "Maybe later, thank you."

His straight forward tone of voice seemed to be enough to get things back on track, for while Jerry backed away and returned the bowl of fruit to the table, Ezekiel turned his attention back to Rick. He seemed unperturbed by their refusal of his hospitality, and he peered down at him with a polite scrutiny.

"I recall the plight that brought you to our fine Kingdom today, the quandary that burdens you." There was a pause as he looked at Carl, considering him for a moment. "I'll not keep you from your endeavour any longer than necessary. You young Sir, will receive the best treatment our esteemed doctors can provide. We will leave no stone unturned, that is my decree," he decided, turning to Jerry as if needing to make his statement official.

"At what cost?" Rick asked bluntly, not wanting to pussy-foot around this particular issue.

Ezekiel turned back to him, his brow furrowed. "Cost?"

"Nothing's for free these days," Rick stated, looking him in the eye and holding his gaze. "What will your doctors cost me?"

Ezekiel stared at him before turning to Richard, looking at him expectantly as if waiting for an explanation. Richard simply shrugged, a response echoed by Dianne. A long moment passed as Ezekiel considered this, and then after coming to a decision he waved his hand to Jerry, gesturing for him to come over. As he returned to the stage Ezekiel got up from his throne, and without trepidation brushed his hand over the top of the tiger's head, murmuring something to her. He passed the heavy looking chain to Jerry now, conceding control of the animal to him, a responsibility he seemed to take without hesitation. As Ezekiel crossed the stage Jerry happily settled himself into the throne with a jolly smile, smirking when the King looked back at him in exasperation.

Ezekiel ascended the stairs and came down into the auditorium, his long black coat billowing behind him as he approached. He held no concern as he reached the aisle and made his way towards Rick, stopping a respectful distance away before casting his eyes out over the entire group, making eye contact with each of them as he began speaking.

"I welcome you all to enjoy the fruits of our grandeur for as long as you like. Partake, and be comforted by the knowledge that this young man is receiving the full extent of the treatment he needs. That is my decree," he stated again, looking at Rick as he said this.

"And the cost?" Rick repeated, withholding a bite of impatience.

Again Ezekiel looked confused, unsure of why Rick continued to press at this issue. "Rick Grimes…The Kingdom and all of her possibilities are a collaboration of pride, hard work and community. Throughout your stay here, which I implore to be long and fruitful, abide by our belief that when you drink from the well, you replenish the well."

Though it seemed generous of him to say, Rick knew exactly what those words really meant…nothing was really for free.

* * *

A/N Hey readers - for no reason in particular this was one of my favourite chapters to write, just had a lot of fun exploring the interactions between the Kingdom and Alexandria, so I hope you enjoyed reading it - please remember to leave a review to make my day.

Am looking forward to 8x01 very soon - the countdown begins! Very exciting to see where this season takes the characters.


	23. Chapter 23

When the Alexandrian's left the auditorium they breathed a visible sigh of relief, glad to be well away from what Richard had the nerve to call a small surprise. As they came outside it was clear that the Kingdomers were awaiting their reaction, amused by the looks of relief and befuddlement on their faces. Even minutes later as they congregated outside Carrie could feel her heart pounding, and she tired not to too obviously rest her hands on her belly as though they alone would protect her baby from a tiger…a tiger that purred as its head was scratched.

They had recollected outside with their minds still spinning, but while the rest of them broke out into small murmurs of disbelief Rick had pulled Richard aside to talk in private, and the rest of their respective groups watched on and waited for the fireworks. Still trying to comprehend her own shock, Carrie stood on Carl's left and watched on as they spoke quietly, conscious of how furious Rick had to be right now. Hell, they were all furious, or at least they would be when the shock wore off. Richard had brought them here under the pretence that it was safe, neglecting to mention that his so called King kept a pet tiger.

Speaking for the first time since seeing the tiger, Abraham sounded shell shocked. "Well I'm just gonna say it. I haven't seen a tiger since I did magic mushrooms at Burning Man."

"And I'm suddenly not a cat person anymore," Michonne muttered darkly, her hand scratching her shoulder as though resisting the urge to take out her katana.

Beside her, Carl was the only one smiling. "It's kinda of cool, don't you think?" he said in awe, looking over at Carrie. "He's got a tiger."

"I wouldn't have said cool," she muttered. Stuffing her hands into the pocket of her coat she touched the sides of her belly, feeling the baby squirming inside of her. It felt unnerving today, particularly given how on edge she felt.

"Come on," Carl insisted, looking around for supporters. "It's like Carrie said, a tiger's not even the craziest thing we were expecting today."

She didn't say anything in response this time, instead focusing her attention on Rick and Richard. Their discussion had started out as heated, the two men going head to head to defend their positions, but things seemed to have settled. They were talking quietly now, Richard imploring him to be understanding. As she waited Carrie turned her attention to the rest of the group who waited, taking note of everyone's behaviour. While Daryl, Michonne, Abraham and Mitchell seemed to be standing on watch, keeping an eye over the innocent Kingdom residents who were watching them in awe, Vetor and Lana's attention was otherwise occupied.

Like usual they seemed to be arguing again, though on the bright side at least they were talking…sort of. Lana stood there listening to whatever Vetor was saying, her face settled on an expression of boredom. When she saw Carrie looking at her she caught her eye and smiled, winking dramatically to lift her spirits. She smiled, always surprised that she and Lana had managed to become friends, but Vetor didn't seem to share this enthusiasm. When he saw where Lana's attention was focused he seemed to roll his eyes, and he promptly gave up trying to hold an audience. In that instant Carrie knew what was about to happen, for the moment Vetor fell silent Lana turned to him and finally responded, having simply been waiting for him to shut up. Though her voice was soft and her expression plain, it seemed she made her point very clear. Vetor shook his head in dismissal before turning away, but Lana seemed not to care. She simply turned back to Carrie and shrugged her shoulders. _Men_ _…_ is what she seemed to be saying.

A flurry swept through their group, everyone's attention turning back to Rick who was returning to them, Richard by his side. Though there was still tension between them it appeared that some kind of resolution had been reached. As discussed, Rick didn't spare her any more of a glance than he spared the others in their group, not wanting to give away the fact that they were a couple, that she was pregnant with his child. He wasn't ready to let his guard down around these strangers…he might not be ready at all. Their only priority today was Carl's health. Carrie also seeing the doctor was their best case scenario.

"We could be up to an hour," Rick began, his way of telling them that he had decided to take Richard at his word, that they were staying at least for the time being. "Any longer than that, and you know what to do."

They knew what to do, alright. Carrie was to leave with Carol to find safety…the others were to stay and cause as much mayhem and disruption as possible until they found their people safe.

"The Doctor's office is F Block, ground floor," Richard told them all, reassuring them that they would know exactly where their people were. "While you wait, we're happy for you to take a tour, if you're willing."

There was a long silence, each of them considering the merits of this, but Rick in particular. His next response would speak volumes about what he was really thinking, for the rest of the group taking a tour would split them up even more. They would supposedly know where Rick was, but he would have no idea where to find them…if this was a trap, this was the ideal situation to put them in. But to Carrie's relief Rick gave a short nod of the head, indicating his approval…he was confident they were safe here, and that was the only thing they needed to know in order to feel the same.

"Let's go," Rick said to Carl, gesturing to some select others to accompany him.

While he and Carl departed with Richard leading the way, Denise, Michonne and Mitchell accompanying them too, the others stayed behind. Dianne was nearby, watching the two groups separate, and with Richard's approval she came back over and looked at them, counting them one by one.

"Eight of you," she said to herself. "Remember what we said earlier. Do not be walking around here without an escort, or you will be considered a threat. Keep your guns and weapons in their holsters, or you will be considered a threat. Does everyone understand?"

There was a general murmur of agreement, none of them caring that she felt it necessary to repeat the rules for a second time, that she was being thorough. It too was a reassurance, and it was good to know that Dianne and the Kingdom took this day as seriously as Alexandria did. They wanted this to go well, part of which was knowing and understanding the expectations held by one another.

Before they left two other Kingdom residents joined them, a man and woman who were hastily introduced as Jon and Nelle who hadn't been present at trade meetings before. While Dianne led them from the front the two strangers flanked either side of their close knit group, keeping watch of them to ensure they were behaving themselves. Carrie didn't feel the need to pay them much attention, and instead focused on her surroundings, on learning everything she could about the new environment they found themselves in. It felt strange to walk around something so unfamiliar without her weapons drawn, for normally something unfamiliar meant that it was a threat. It was concerning to not know what was waiting for them on the other side of a building, to simply walk around the corner and discover something new…something not infested with Walkers.

As they made their way around what had once been an enormous school, Carrie couldn't help but feel like a kid at Disney land, giddy with a strange combination of excitement and nerves. But like everyone else she kept her excitement to herself, maintaining nothing other than a polite and impassive facade. They passed by another generous courtyard that seemed not to be for socialising, but for work. Laundry was being done here, an ingenious set up designed to get a large amount of dirty clothes cleaned with as little resources as possible. Exercise bikes were scattered around the courtyard, what used to be the rear wheel now hooked up to a flat belt that turned a plastic tub over and over, a colourful array of clothing inside being washed with little effort. Elsewhere someone was using a manual wringer before hanging clothes on one of the many lines strung around.

It was surprising to see them doing this, particularly given the Kingdom had solar power that could run a washing machine, but perhaps the infrastructure here could not support such luxuries. The sight of their work was a stark reminder of how privileged they were in Alexandria, that Carrie could simply shove their clothing into a machine, add detergent and hope for the best. That in itself had been a learning curve for her, one that had resulted in a couple of errors such as turning Rick's white shirt light blue, though he had presumed it was new. But as she looked at the Kingdom residents washing their clothes by hand, she remembered doing the same thing herself, when she lived on the road hand to mouth. When she was part of a group it was more common to simply discard your dirty clothes for new clothing whenever you stayed in a new house. It was rare that they took the time to do laundry by hand, a necessity on only the few occasions they had stayed somewhere more than a couple of days.

The sound of heavy footsteps behind them saw everyone turning to look over their shoulders, a brief moment of tension felt by all until they saw who it was. His wild blonde hair in disarray, the young man Benjamin was jogging to catch up to them, his youthful face filled with eagerness. But his face fell when he caught up to them, and he seemed disappointed as he looked at the group of newcomers.

"He's already gone to see Mak," Dianne explained, apparently knowing what Benjamin was there for.

"Already?" he said in exasperation.

"Leave the kid alone," Jon scolded him. "He doesn't need you staring at him like an animal in the zoo."

"I'm not going to stare at him, I just want to say hi," Benjamin grumbled as he fell into step beside him.

Carrie watched the young man from the corner of her eye, observing him as their tour around the Kingdom continued. Earlier he had said hello to Carl as they made their way past the horses towards the auditorium, but Carrie wasn't sure Carl had returned his friendly greeting, not that she blamed him. Carl didn't really want to be here in the first place, let alone make friends with strangers who already knew his name because of the bandage on his face. Despite this Benjamin still seemed eager to introduce himself a second time.

"This is the gymnasium here," Dianne said, bringing them past some double doors and pausing so they could look inside. "In winter we normally use this as a second laundry area, but it get's musty in here so we try not to. Other times we just use it for sports tournaments, gymnastics for the kids. We're about to start our Dodgeball tournament. That one gets pretty serious, there are usually tears. Richard's, not mine."

The lighthearted joke was most unexpected, but welcomed nonetheless. A low chuckle of amusement swept through the group, and it was a reliving break in the nervous tension that even after twenty minutes had yet to dissipate. Though Daryl hadn't managed to crack a smile his shoulders and body did seem a little more relaxed now, though he still looked uncomfortable with his hands empty of his crossbow. They continued on their tour, Dianne pointing out the blocks that served as housing for the residents and the F Block where Rick and Carl would be right now.

"This is where you'll be staying tonight," Dianne began, pointing to a building opposite the main residences. "Should you chose to stay, that is. It's not as comfortable, the classrooms are a little smaller and it's a bit more exposed to the wind on the eastern side, but it's good enough. You'll be provided with everything you need, should you choose to stay," she repeated, emphasising their choice in the matter.

Carrie wasn't so sure about that, not relishing the idea of resting her weary head in unfamiliar surroundings, nor having Judith spend the night apart from both of her parents. As they continued on they made their way past a children's playground, catching sight of a small toddler who sat in a sandpit heaping sand into a pile as big as himself. Playing on the swing set were the two children that had been at the gate upon their arrival, Susanne and Toby, but they were not the only ones. While a couple of parents lingered on the bench seats with mugs of coffee warming them, over a dozen other children of various ages were scattered around the playground, some sitting quietly in a group, while others were full of energy they were being encouraged to expend. As she watched them Carrie's heart ached, particularly at the sight of the younger children. They'd been gone only a few hours now, but already she missed Judith, having not been this far away from her new daughter in months. She wondered if she was behaving well for Olivia, knowing that by now she ought to be taking her afternoon nap. In all likelihood she was fast asleep on Olivia's couch, her duck clutched to her chest using her pacifier. Rick had been trying to wean her from it, but it hadn't been going so well.

At the very back of the campus they came across a wide open space that was quickly recognised as the school's football field, a field now occupied by something else entirely. Making their way towards it they looked out across the expansive wheat and corn crops that took up half the field, admiring what was surely a plentiful resource of food. The other half of the field was occupied by a quaint barn and grazing cattle, the sight of which made Carrie's heart soar. There was the source of the fresh milk the Kingdom occasionally traded with them.

Benjamin seemed to take over now, leading the group down towards the cattle. Dividing the two halves of the field was a fenced path about three yards wide, allowing a vehicle and equipment to make their way down to the barn, and preventing the livestock from reaching the crops as they grew. They followed Benjamin right up to the fence, Carrie breaking a smile when she saw some of the cows making their way over to them, curious about the new faces. Sitting atop the wooden fence Benjamin started pointing out the various cows and naming them.

"We run a lottery every time we need a name for an animal, or sometimes we take a vote and majority rules," he explained, jumping down from the fence when one of the cows nudged his knee. "This one is Betty, and her best friend is Cookie, she's the light brown one with dark spots like a chocolate chip cookie," he explained as he rubbed Betty's hind. "The bigger bull way at the back there, that's PeeWee, and the other bull is named Meatloaf. No, I'm not joking," he laughed.

"And who is this lovely lady?" Abraham asked, swiftly climbing over the fence and entering the paddock. As he came in a cow that was approaching swiftly turned and fled, but another continued making her way over, albeit slowly.

"The one doing a runner is Rosie, she's pretty shy. That one there is Darla, she'll go to anyone who'll rub her belly."

"And what about Bessie?" Abraham asked in concern, looking out across the paddock. "Every herd of cows needs a Bessie."

"We don't have a Bessie anymore, she's on the menu," Benjamin said solemnly. "But Moo Moo and Daisy are pregnant, maybe Gertie too. So, hopefully we'll have a Bessie the Second when they calve."

Midway through rubbing Darla's belly, Abraham paused and looked up in surprise. "Moo Moo?" he questioned, looking back at the rest of the group before returning his gaze to Benjamin. "That's an…unusual name."

Benjamin frowned, surprised by the question. "She's a cow. Cows say moo."

Carrie cringed, seeing a spark appear in Abraham's eye. _Don't say it_ _,_ she silently implored him. _Don't say it_ _._

"Is your dog named Bark Bark?" he asked, apparently unable to help himself.

A chuckle swept across the group, the Kingdom residents too. Acknowledging how unusual the name was Benjamin also laughed, not looking bothered by Abraham's teasing. "No, the dog's name is Dog."

"My boy Tristan named Dog," Nelle explained, speaking for the first time. "He's three. And Moo Moo's name was supposed to be MooDonna, but no one understood the reference, so we just shortened it."

"Your bulls get along?" Daryl asked, surprising them all by climbing the fence and joining Abraham inside the paddock.

"Yeah, they're actually pretty chill," Benjamin answered. "PeeWee is so huge that Meatloaf isn't dumb enough to take him on."

At Dianne's invitation Rosita and Anna also entered the paddock, letting the more curious cows approach the extended hands, Rosita letting out what seemed to be a rare laugh as Cookie licked her elbow. Watching on but electing not to go in, Carrie moved further along the fence to where Carol stood, a pleasant smile expertly hiding whatever it was she was feeling inside. Seeing that they had a little privacy here, for most of the attention was on the cows, Carrie stood close to her and started talking.

"What do you think so far?" she asked, forcing a laugh when the others did.

It took Carol a few moments to answer, and Carrie had been about to repeat herself when she finally spoke. "I don't know," she said quietly, her cheery facade never faltering. She turned around and looked back up at the school, her attention focused on F Block where the rest of their group were located. "It's too soon to tell."

Twenty minutes later they were returning to Central Park, the tour of the school having concluded with their arrival back there. It was a relief to make it back there, Carrie's feet having started to ache down by the paddock, a less welcome part of her pregnancy. Resisting the inclination to put her feet up she gratefully sank down onto one of the bench seats and stretched her legs out, taking the weight off them as she listened to Dianne talking to them, telling them that they were to wait here until Rick and the others returned.

"The closet toilet facilities are D Block around that corner," she explained, gesturing in that direction. "They're cleaned every three hours so if you can wait until after twelve o'clock I recommend you do, otherwise I'd take advantage of the porta-loos near M Block. Less glamorous than our other transportable ones, but no one likes using them so they tend to be cleaner. Like I told you before don't wander off alone, even to the restrooms, take one of us with you. Otherwise, lunch will be starting soon, we asked Chef to set some rations for you."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Daryl answered on their behalf, their group having already agreed not to indulge in any more hospitality than necessary.

At this Carrie's stomach started to rumble a little, reminding her that she was no longer in the habit of ignoring hunger. She didn't necessarily have to eat for two, but she did need extra calories than normal, and now was about the time of day she started looking for something to eat. It didn't matter though, for they had brought food with them for this very reason, so they would have enough to sustain them in the event that something terrible happened and they had to flee.

With Dianne and the others leaving them be for now, though it was still still clear they were being closely supervised, the Alexandrian's lingered together and settled in to await Rick's return, keeping close watch of the time.

"Do you need the bathroom?" Carol asked as she sat down on the bench seat beside her. As she sat down she removed the backpack she carried about brought it around to sit on her lap.

"I'm okay for now," she answered, preferring to rest her feet for a few moments. "Thanks."

"But you're hungry, right?" she said perceptively. From inside the backpack she removed a half sandwich and passed it to her.

She took it with a murmur of thanks, gratefully taking a bite of the fresh bread and crisp salad. There was a comfortable silence now, one that Carrie was happy to bask in. Carol had been close by her side almost every minute since they had left Alexandria, protective of her, spending more time in her vicinity in the last two hours than she had in the last two months. It was nice to have her by her side, to feel close to her after things had changed between them. Carol had been such a rock for her in the days and weeks following Pete's attack, she had been a quiet presence in their home when Carl came out of the Infirmary, a buffer to the changes that came about when Carrie and Rick moved into the same room together. At the time Carrie had thought they'd developed an easy friendship, but these days it felt overcomplicated, Carol's distant behaviour making her think she had done something wrong. But she'd been forced to rationalise with herself, to acknowledge that whatever was bothering Carol wasn't her fault. She had her own issues, she was grieving for Sam and everything they had lost the day the Wolves attacked…but that stop Carrie from missing her.

Just as she was about to strike up conversation Carol got to her feet and left, leaving the bag on the ground by her feet as she walked off without a word. Holding in a sigh of disappointment Carrie looked at what was left of her half sandwich and then forced herself to continue eating. When Carol was distant and abrupt like then it was difficult not to take it personally, though she tried not to. As she finished the last mouthful she looked up and watched her approaching Daryl, gesturing to his cigarette and then taking a draw from it. There was her explanation…Carol wanted a cigarette, that was all.

Carrie repeated that to herself a couple of times, stemming the disappointment she felt.

"Christ, they've got so much here," Lana observed, brusquely seating herself in the spot Carol had just vacated.

"They've worked hard for it," Carrie said lowly, getting a stark reminder of that only a few months ago, Lana's group had planned to rob Alexandria. Was that the source of her comment? Was she casing the joint? Was Vetor?

"Fark yeah they have," Lana agreed in admiration. "Did you see that paddock fencing? That was well built, and the barn? That was no pop up, they built that by hand. I'd be interested to see their Pantry situation."

Carrie didn't say anything, resisting the urge to ask Lana if she and Vetor were indeed going to case the joint. Lana no longer deserved that kind of mistrust, and she knew she only had that thought because she was feeling low because of Carol. Instead she remained silent, listening somewhat attentively as Lana kept talking, bringing more observations to her attention. Her own focus was elsewhere, and as she checked her watch she worried about Carl, not because he might be in danger, but because there was a lot at stake for him today. A second doctor's opinion could mean the difference between ongoing suffering or some kind of treatment plan…that would be huge for him.

As the minutes ticked by Carrie cast her gaze across the Central Park courtyard, taking in the variety of people, unbothered by the curious stares they were still getting. This place was a hive of activity, there was a genuine sense of community that had taken a long time for Alexandria to develop. As if drawn by a magnet, Carrie's eyes honed in on a heavily pregnant woman, watching her with a mixture of awe and apprehension. The woman walked with a very pronounced waddle, her hands pressed against her lower back as she tried to relieve the pressure.

Though she tried not to, Carrie found herself staring, watching the woman's every movement as if trying to learn from her, to gleam as much insight into her own future as possible. The woman's belly was a great deal bigger than her own, and there would be no way she could hide it under a jacket like she did. Wondering when she was going to give birth she watched the woman making her way across the courtyard, studying her every move until she disappeared into one of the buildings.

Feeling Lana roughly nudging her Carrie looked around, her heart rate elevated for a moment before she relaxed, seeing what had alarmed her. A few yards away stood the little girl they had met at the gates, the one who had been scolded by Colton for playing in the school bus. She stood there looking at them in curiosity, her lips pursed as if holding herself back from talking to them. When they had passed by the playground earlier she had been on the swing set, but by the time they made it down to the football field she had been following them at a distance, and it seemed her curiosity was unabated.

"Hi there," Carrie began, glancing up at some of the Kingdom residents to make sure she wasn't crossing a line. When she saw Nelle watching them but without concern she turned back to the girl. "Susanne, right?"

The girl smiled and then nodded, taking a few steps towards them. She looked at Lana and then faltered for a moment, ultimately deciding to give her a wide berth as she approached. A quick glance at Lana told Carrie she seemed rather unhappy with Susanne's approach, though this didn't stop her coming towards Carrie.

"What's your name?" she asked politely.

"I'm Carrie. Carrie Grimes," she added, unable to help the last part. "It's nice to meet you Susanne."

Echoing the sentiment, Susanne turned to Lana and started to ask the same question, but ultimately seemed to decide she wasn't worth her time. Instead she made a beeline to Carrie, her expression of eagerness making her look fit to burst. "You've got very blonde hair," she observed, stopping a few yards away before lurching as if wanting to reach out and touch it.

"I…I do," she agreed, pausing as she wondered what she should say next. What did one talk about with a young girl they didn't know?

"Your hair looks like Princess Aurora's," she said, sounding very serious about it. Without hesitation she came over and sat down on Carrie's other side. "Are you coming to movie night?"

"Well, I don-"

"It's my turn to pick the movie. Last week it was Toby's turn," she added in disapproval. "And he picked A Bug's Life, because he knows I don't like it. So this week, we're going to watch Sleeping Beauty, because he hates Princesses."

"Oh, I see."

"If you come to move night, then I can show you who Princess Aurora is. I think you'll like her because she has the same hair as you, except hers in longer…and Melanie has the same hair too, but hers is more like Rapunzel's, because it reaches down to her butt. Plus hers is brown too. And also Sally ha-"

"Hey, kid. Go away," Lana said bluntly, leaning forward to look at her with disapproval.

"Lana!" Carrie hissed at her. Though she somewhat supported the statement, she wasn't unkind enough to say it out loud.

"But…" Susanne began tentatively. "You can come to movie night too."

Lana wasn't having any of it. "Didn't your mum ever teach you not to talk to strangers? Go away."

"My mom didn't come to the Kingdom like I did. She died in Philadelphia…"

There was an awkward pause now, Carrie looked at Lana in exasperation. _Christ, and she thought she was bad with kids. Lana was a whole other level of bad._

"Just, don't talk to strangers, okay?" she continued bluntly. "Go on. Get lost."

Reluctantly doing as she was told, Susanne got up from the bench and started to leave, though she made a point of saying one more thing to Carrie. "Movie night starts at five o'clock," she told her, pointedly not addressing Lana. "It's in the auditorium. But Shiva isn't allowed to come because she's too noisy, so you don't have to worry about her if you're afraid."

"I'll see if I'm allowed to go," Carrie replied, letting her down easy. "Thanks Susanne."

Sparing a disapproving glare for Lana, she left without further preamble, breaking into a light hearted skip as she made her way towards one of the other kids who lingered at a distance. "Lana," Carrie sighed. "Not cool, okay?"

Lana just scoffed, unconcerned by her rudeness. "If one of us is a Princess, it's me."

"Vain, much?"

"I was a Princess," she argued. "A Disney Princess too."

Carrie bit her tongue, but only for a moment. "It doesn't count if it was for Playboy."

Muttering under her breath Lana gave a heavy sigh, suitably embarrassed by the teasing. "I should never have told you that."

"You didn't tell me. The tequila you drank is who told me, Princess Drinksalot."

"It was an artistic piece."

"Yeah, and guys liked it for the art," she teased, nudging her side. She paused for a moment, letting the teasing fade. "Everything okay with you and Vetor?"

Lana just rolled her eyes, glancing over at Daryl who was lighting another cigarette. "He's getting too big for his boots," she joked. "It's alright, I just gotta knock him down a few pegs."

"Don't ever forget," Carrie began, remembering something her mother used to joke with her. "You have the boobs, therefore you have all the power."

"Oh I know that, trust me," Lana playfully smirked, getting up from her seat and pulling her tank top down a little. "I have all the power I need."

Sharing a mischievous wink with her, Lana made her way over to where Daryl and Carol stood, and she made her move. Patting down her pockets she feigned having left her cigarettes at home, and a little too politely she asked Daryl for one of his. Watching on in interest, Carrie withheld her laughter when she saw Daryl's eyes drop to Lana's cleavage before hastily rummaging through his pockets, uncharacteristically flustered. It seemed Carol too was actively withholding her laughter, and she shared a pointed wink with Lana when she knew Daryl wasn't looking.

Despite her amusement, Carrie's spirits fell now. It felt stupid, petty…but she was annoyed that Carol had winked at Lana, that they now had some kind of inside joke about cigarettes and Daryl. What next? Would Carol be around at Lana's townhouse dropping by for coffee? Checking they had all the rations from the pantry?

Her spirits having taken a noticeable drop, she was glad when twenty minutes later Rick and Mitchell returned to the group, accompanied by Richard. At first glance it was difficult to tell what Rick was thinking, his expression unreadable until he came closer, and then she saw the distinct unhappiness in his eyes. Had something gone wrong with Carl? Was it bad news?

Bracing herself to be let down, she got to her feet and made her way over to meet him.

* * *

They'd been there twenty minutes now, Rick and Carl waiting patiently while Denise and the two doctors conversed, reading through his extensive medical file and asking occasional questions. Michonne, Mitchell and Richard waited patiently outside, and it felt wildly unusual for Rick to find himself in such a setting, to be in a room that so closely resembled an actual doctor's office. The similarities felt uncanny. This had once been a shared office for the entire chemistry faculty, the room spacious with two desks and numerous bookcases and filing cabinets, and a comfortable seating area in the middle. With Rick and Denise sitting either side of Carl on the couch, the two doctors sat opposite them with the medical files spread out across the coffee table.

Though his first impression of them was positive, the two doctors they were meeting with couldn't be more different in both appearance and personality. The more talkative of the two was Brea, a general practitioner in her late thirties whose bleached blonde hair was at odds with the dark roots that couldn't be hidden. It was a stark contrast to the natural blonde of Carrie's hair, and though it was unkind to say the choice of colour made her seem like she was trying to recapture her youth even in this world. But she was polite and welcoming to them, and when she needed more information she asked Carl directly, turning to him for answers rather than Rick or Denise. It was a small thing really, but something Rick liked about this doctor. Being able to answer for himself rather than having others speaking on his behalf with putting Carl at ease, helping his nerves wane just a little. Though he was still reluctant for strangers to be looking at his wound, for it made him feel intensely vulnerable, it was clear that he trusted them already.

The other doctor, Mak, seemed to take a different approach to meeting with his patient. Preferring to let Brea do most of the talking he was sitting back into the couch, his brow pinched as he studied Denise's various notes. With the exception of initial introductions he had barely said a word to them since their arrival, something that Rick had at first mistook for disregard. But it was becoming clearer to him now that Mak wasn't disinterested or uncaring, that it was quite the opposite. He was concentrating, mulling over his thoughts as he read the files and listened to what was being said, speaking only once to clarify something Denise had said. He was an older man in his early sixties at least, his wispy grey hair echoed in the silver frames of he glasses he wore, glasses he frequently had to push up his nose. Judging by his whole name, Dr Makato Takahashi, he was Japanese in nationality, a presumption supported by the snippets of his accent that had heard so far.

"Carl," Mak began, speaking slowly as he sat forward in the chair. "How tall are you?"

Carl blinked, surprised by the sudden question. He glanced at Rick before he answered, perhaps unsure of the exact answer. "Almost five foot six."

Mak stared at him for a moment before looking him up at down. "Hmm," he muttered as he settled back into the couch, looking Carl in the eye one more time before turning back to the files. "And what is your weight?"

When Carl turned to her Denise answered on his behalf. "One hundred and eight pounds last week," she said, rifling through the files and finding the record and graph of his weight. "It's all recorded here, every two weeks since the injury."

Taking the sheet of paper Mak raised his eyebrows as he studied the records, passing it to Brea before turning back to what he was perusing beforehand. Brea too scrutinised the records, her face looking impassive until she turned the piece of paper around and reviewed them the graph Denise had made. Rick glanced at it for a moment and then looked away, hating the sight of the significant drop the graph showed from June and July. Nevertheless, despite the rough time he'd had after the injury, Carl's weight had slowly but steadily begun to recover.

"Is there much food at home?" Brea asked sensitively.

"There's enough," Carl quickly assured her. "It's just sometimes I don't feel like eating if I'm not feeling well…otherwise it's just a waste."

"And what do you eat?"

"Just, normal stuff."

Denise cleared her throat politely, and then added her own answer. "We have a good supply of fresh vegetables and some fruits, however carbohydrates and protein are scarce. Carl's in the top three for priority rations, so if we have meat he always gets it, but it depends on what we can hunt."

"What about iron enriched foods? Red meat, legumes, leafy green vegetables?"

"All but the first," Denise answered. "We haven't had red meat for about a month now."

"What do you do for pain relief, Carl?" Brea asked. "Does Tylenol help?"

Carl laughed bluntly. "I wish it helped. I usually take half a codeine pill, but only when I really need it. Sometimes if it's really bad, then…ummm, is it endone?"

"And how do they effect you?"

"Well, the pain goes away which is nice," he began. "But it usually makes me feel pretty bad. I have to stay home, can't go to school."

Brea nodded sympathetically, not looking surprised. "And morphine? Phentanyl?"

He shook his head now. "I hate morphine, it makes me feel really weird. Denise gives me Phentanyl only if I really need it."

"Makes you feel weird, huh? It's no surprise there," Brea said, gesturing to the record of his weight over the last few months. "Does it give you a rash? Make you itchy?"

"No, just makes my head feel all funny. I have weird dreams even when I'm not asleep. It's pretty messed up."

"And you've had an allergic reaction to antibiotics," she pondered, consulting another page in his file. "To amoxicillin? What happened there?"

"It gave me a rash and made me sick. It only lasted a couple of days though."

"I think it was more of a sensitivity than an allergy," Denise explained. "But I've erred on the side of caution and not prescribed it again."

"That's good," Brea nodded in approval. "While you're here we can do some scratch tests to see if you have any other allergies.

Mak cleared his throat and sat forward, balancing the folder of photographs in his lap. "How many cigarettes do you smoke a day?"

There was a painfully awkward silence, and though he had until then been looking at a model of the human brain Rick looked around at Carl expectantly. "Carl?"

"I don't smoke," he said quickly, his cheeks reddening a little.

"Are you sure?" Mak pressed, glancing at Rick. "Your dad won't be mad. He promises."

Rick sighed on the inside, disagreeing with the latter. "I won't be mad," he said anyway, still looking at Carl expectantly.

"I don't smoke," he insisted urgently, looking Rick in the eye before turning back to the doctors. "I-I mean I tried it once, but it made me puke. It was horrible."

"And you don't smoke since then?"

Carl hesitated, a brief silence that made Rick's stomach turn as he awaited the answer. "Well…I smoked another cigarette once, but I only took one puff on it, I swear," he said, looking at Rick as he answered.

"You took one puff on a cigarette?" he questioned skeptically. Horrible tasting or not, Carl was persistent by nature. He wouldn't give up after one.

"Okay, two puffs. Maybe two and half," he confessed before quickly explaining again. "But it tasted even worse, and it gave me a really bad head ache. I swear that's all," he said, looking back at the doctors. "I swear."

Mak stared at him for a moment, putting the pressure on as if wondering what else he would confess to, and then he nodded his head and turned back to the folder. Looking suitable ashamed Carl seemed to squirm under the weight of what he had confessed, though Rick appreciated his honesty in the matter.

"What made you ask about smoking?" Carl asked quietly, looking at Mac as if worried he might somehow know all his darkest secrets.

"Your wound," Mak replied shortly, flicking through the folder as he spoke. "It heals very poorly. Like someone who smokes many cigarettes, not a healthy fifteen year old. But I believe you," he added kindly. "Is it okay for me to remove the dressing and look?"

Though there was no doubt in Rick's mind that Carl would have preferred not to, he nodded in agreement. He raised his hands to find the end of the bandage, but Brea quickly stoped him, telling him they'd go into a different room. They lingered for a moment as they began collating the files spread out onto the coffee table, returning them to their original order and passing them to Denise, and then they ushered them all to their feet. Showing them out of the office they entered the corridor outside, and when they saw Michonne and Mitchell sitting out there Rick shook his head at them, telling them they weren't yet finished. Michonne looked quietly worried, and in her hands she held Carl's hat while she waited, but she smiled and nodded when Carl gave her a thumbs up to let her know he was okay.

"You will need to change out of your clothes," Mak instructed as he lead them into what had once been an adjacent class room. "Your shirt at least. Over there."

When they entered Rick stopped in awe, his mouth gaping as he took in the transformation that had come over the room. What had once been a large classroom was now divided into sections, plastic sheeting cordoning off an area in the very middle inside which was an examination wound. To his left near the front of the class was a prep area, the old sinks making use of a large canteen of water labelled sterile, and on the opposite side was a curtained area Carl was being directed towards.

As Carl took a hospital gown Rick followed him over to the curtained area and waited outside while he changed, still looking around in awe. When he came out he held his shirt and jacket clenched in his hands, beginning to look a little apprehensive now. It was bad enough that strangers were going to be looking at his injury, but they would also be poking and prodding it too, an examination that was sure to be uncomfortable for him to endure. With Carl ready they waited as all three doctors thoroughly washed and dried their hands, listening in as they continued talking to Denise, asking her questions as they sought more and more information.

"Come on in and take a seat Carl," Brea said, using her elbow to part the plastic sheeting. "Rick, I'll need you to stand right back for us, there're more people in here than we normally have."

They did as instructed, Rick taking Carl's shirt and jacket before entering the sterile room. It felt cold and impersonal in here, but he had no doubt that it was precisely the way the doctors needed it. While Carl sat down on what looked like a dentist's chair Rick stood back a few yards and gave him a short nod of encouragement, and in no time at all they were underway. Mak, Brea and Denise joined them a few moments later, each doctor fully clad in a mask, gloves and surgical gown. It was good to see, giving him a boost of confidence to see that the precautions Denise took back home in Alexandria were approved of by these more experienced doctors.

They got ready and unwound the bandage, making sure to keep Carl's hair pinned back away from his face. Asking him to close his other eye they turned on an overhead light and directed it towards his face, and there was a few moments of silence as they studied the wound in person for the first time. It was disconcerting to watch from the sidelines when he normally sat right by Carl's side, letting him squeeze his hand for relief any time there was a sudden bout of pain. Now he could see Carl's hand resting by his leg, restlessly playing with the zipper on his cargo pants.

The three doctors talked and studied the open wound for almost ten minutes before actually touching it, and as Brea began gently touching his cheekbone and nose Rick held his breath. There had been no damage to his nose, cheekbone or eye socket when he was shot, but the area was often tender and inflamed, the skin varying colours of red.

"This shouldn't hurt," she said kindly. "But tell me if there's any discomfort. There's no need for you to be in any pain."

"I'm okay," he replied, his voice soft. As soon as he spoke he flinched, his hands clenching into fists, and Brea quickly apologised and stopped what she was doing.

"You've done better than you realise, Denise," Brea began. "Compared to the initial injury the socket has filled with flesh quite well, even if it is sloughy and necrotic in places."

"It's two steps forward, one step back," she replied sadly. "Just when we think we're making headway with a healthy wound bed, I open the dressing the next visit and it's turned sloughy again."

"Hmmm," Brea nodded in agreement. "The infections have been bad, this one in particular," she mused. "You're keeping on top of it though, it doesn't appear to have spread. Cephalexin?"

"When we have it."

"What's he on right now?"

"Oral tetracycline…this is his fifth day in."

There was silence for a few minutes now, and then Mak turned away and came over to Rick, lowering his mask from his face so they could speak. "I'm to do a more thorough examination," he stated bluntly, though he at least made an effort to keep his voice low. "He requires nitrous oxide and a little phentanyl too."

Although he hadn't phrased it as a request for Rick's permission, he understood that it was what the doctor was seeking. With his arms folded and his head undecided, Rick glanced at Carl to gauge his demeanour. His son didn't want to be here in the first place, he didn't want these strangers poking and prodding the injury that made him feel so intensely vulnerable…but it had to be done. Rick gave a short nod of approval, his acceptance of the plan prompting Mac to quickly explain to Carl what was going to happen before he left the sterile room. As he expected Carl was particularly unenthused, but he nodded in agreement.

There was a flurry of activity now, Brea bringing through a tray of surgical instruments while Denise set up a monitor for his pulse and blood pressure. In no time at all things were underway, Carl breathing in the gas and relaxing within moments. Working in good synchrony, Brea and Denise quickly got underway, inserting a needle into the crook of Carl's arm and allowing the phentanyl a few minutes to start working before they began. When Mak returned he had donned new gloves and had a magnifying device fixed to his glasses. He took a seat on a low stool and then rolled over to Carl's right hand side, Brea lowering the dentist's chair to the ideal height.

"So tell me Carl," he began, his muffled voice sounding surprisingly cheery and light hearted. "Do you go to school?"

"Yeah," he answered slowly, speaking through the plastic mask over his mouth and nose. "Sort of…"

"And do you learn anatomy?"

"Yeah," he answered again, his voice heavy with relaxation. "Denise teaches us that."

"Good, good," Mak muttered, taking up the first surgical instrument. Rick held his breath as he watched on apprehensively. "So then tell me Carl…what is the human body's largest organ?"

There was a long pause, Carl either thinking about his answer or too relaxed to answer quickly. "Everyone thinks it's the small intestines…but it's the skin."

"Excellent, well done," Mak praised him. "It is the skin. Keep your other eye closed, and then look left and right for me, back and forth. Are you doing that?"

"Yeah."

"Now look up and down, up and down…good."

He looked up and silently gestured for Brea, using his head to indicate to the cart of surgical tools. Automatically knowing what he wanted, she passed him a glass petri dish into which he smeared a sample of whatever he had taken. He peered at it in the glass dish, studying it for a long moment before discarding his surgical tool into a container and selecting another. Five minutes passed in silence while Mak worked, and from his position Rick couldn't see what he was doing. Unable to do anything, he focused his attention on Carl's hand currently resting on the bed, watching it for any indication that he was in pain.

"And Carl…what does the skin do?"

"Skin?" It seemed to take him a moment to catch up to the conversation, his voice sounding slurred when he answered. "It doesn't do anything."

"Yes it does, come on now," he encouraged, bringing the new tool to his wound and peering inside. "Think. What does our skin do? If it does nothing, then we don't need it."

"It, uhhh," Carl mumbled. "It keeps everything in…it protects our insides."

"Yes, yes. What else now? What does it do for us in summer? In winter? When we exercise?"

"It…it keeps our body temperature normal."

"Yes, well done," Mak said proudly, talking more now than he had during his entire appointment. "It regulates temperature. Now one more thing…one thing your skin is not good with right now."

Carl was quiet for a long moment, his hand on the chair beside him still relaxed, but finally he answered. "It stops us getting infections."

"Yes," Mak agreed, smearing another sample onto a new petri dish before discarding the tool for a new one. "The skin prevents bacteria from entering our body. But what about when we have a cut? Or a scrape? What then?" When Carl didn't respond, Mak continued. "That is when our immune system gets to work, and most of the time it fights off bacteria…most of the time. Do you know what epithelialisation is?"

Carl managed a short laugh. "Epifili…I can't even say it," he laughed. "I don't what it is."

Mak echoed his light laugh. Taking his last sample he pushed his stool back and went to the other side of the room, removing his gloves and allowing Brea to help him into some clean ones. When he returned to Carl's side he took supplies from a different cart, and as he recognised this procedure Rick allowed himself to breath a sigh of relief. The wound would be packed with moist sterile gauze, and a dressing and clean bandage would then be applied. It was over now.

"Epithelialisation is the growth of new skin…and five months after your injury that process should be complete. Why isn't it?"

"Bec…" he began sleepily. "Because it's infected?"

"Yes. The day you were shot there was bacteria on your face, or bacteria on the bullet, or bacteria on your attacker…and the wound became infected. Just as quickly as new tissue is able to grow and fill the socket, the infection takes hold and the tissue dies." He paused his explanation, concentrating as he packed the wound with the sterile gauze. "Dead tissue invites more bacteria, which then compete with healthy cells for nutrients. You understand what has been happening to you, yes?"

"Yeah, I get it."

"Two steps forward, one step back," he mused as he applied the dressing, repeating Denise's earlier words. "I think five months of that is quite enough, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"We're all done now. Brea. Cease the nitrous oxide, and have another two point five of fentanyl ready just incase he needs it."

"We're done?" Carl questioned, trying to raise his head.

"You stay there," Mak instructed. "You rest for thirty minutes, and then we put the bandage back on. Yes?"

Without waiting for Carl's answer he stood up and turned away, and as he headed for the opening in the plastic sheeting he caught Rick's eye. "Outside, please."

Getting the feeling that Carl wouldn't even notice his absence, he shared a quick glance with Denise before following the doctor out. Mak headed back to the sinks and removed his gloves and surgical attire, opening the tap on the canteen of sterile water as he began to clean himself up.

"I have decided on the treatment your son requires," he stated, drying his hands as he turned around to speak with Rick. Removing the magnifying glass from his glasses he set them aside and then crossed his arms over his chest, looking very matter of fact. "First we address the infection. He will have intravenous antibiotics every day for fourteen days. I will decide on which after Brea and I have had time to examine the specimens I took. Yes?"

Rick nodded, already tallying the number of days mentioned. Denise was capable of administering that, but would they expect Carl to remain here for that duration?

"We will improve his general health. Provide full nutrition, extra calories. I'd like him to gain at least ten pounds by the time he is discharged from my care. When I am satisfied he is well enough, he will undergo a surgical debridement. I will remove all necrotic tissue until he is left with a fully healthy wound bed. For this procedure I will fully anaesthetise and intubate him…it is not minor. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he said quietly. At the magnitude of Carl's health began to hit him he glanced up towards him, able to make out the silhouettes of the people behind the plastic sheeting. It was surgery…full on surgery, and it wouldn't be the first time it had been performed. Denise had attempted it twice before, and had warned him it was a likely treatment from the Kingdom. Perhaps this time it would be different. Third time's a charm.

"He will need to be fully monitored for this duration, my practice is not a Stop N Go. Your son must remain in the Kingdom under my supervision. After a period of time if he is well and without infection, I will consider performing a skin graft if necessary."

Rick swore before he could help it, looking at Mak in astonishment. "A skin graft?"

"Yes. Do you know what that is?"

"Yes, I know what it is," he sighed, feeling his stomach begin to turn. A skin graft…a second surgery.

"If performed well, a skin graft will restore a semi-normal appearance to your son's face. It may even minimise the more significant scarring which is already becoming very apparent."

"If performed well?" he questioned skeptically. "How well can you perform a skin graft in these conditions?"

"Quite well," Mak said bluntly. "I practiced as a reconstructive plastic surgeon for over thirty five years, specialising in the treatment of facial abnormalities. Should we proceed with your son, his will be the fourth skin graft I have performed here in the Kingdom."

Unable to argue with that Rick looked down at the floor, struggling with what the doctor had just told him. Antibiotics for two weeks, surgery, a skin graft…it was a lot to wrap his head around. "How long?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Mak paused, sensitive of the magnitude of what he was facing. "I wouldn't plan on returning to your community any earlier than six weeks from now."

"Six weeks?" he muttered, wishing he had misheard. When Mak nodded another curse slipped from his mouth, and he desperately sought an alternative, a different way to do this. "Does it have to be these surgeries? What if the antibiotics work, and he doesn't need surgery?"

Mak shook his head, not sugar coating anything. "It is possible, but unlikely. The skin graft we will reevaluate later, but your son must have a full surgical debridement of the wound bed. That is my treatment plan for him."

For a long moment Rick held his breath. His instinct was to find an alternative, to seek the opinion of someone better, more qualified…someone who would give him the answers he wanted, but who was he kidding? A reconstructive surgeon with thirty five years of experience had offered him a treatment plan. These days, that was as close to a miracle from God as a non-believer could get.

"Alright," he said quietly, making the decision without consulting Carl. "If that's what he needs, then I'd like you to do that for him, please."

"He will stay under my supervision for the entire course of the treatment?" Mak asked slowly, clarifying this without room for misunderstanding.

"Yes," he agreed, this one word difficult for him to accept as necessary. There was a brief pause now, Rick still feeling sick to the stomach.

Mak nodded, satisfied with his agreement. Giving him an cheerful smile that seemed to take some effort, he clapped Rick on the upper arm. "Cheer up. You and your boy will be here for Christmas."

As Mak walked away and left the room, Rick looked back at this feet…he didn't relish having to tell Carrie.

* * *

A/N So, a huuuge deviation from the TV/Comic storyline, but one that sets us up for some good old fashioned drama and cool subplots! (At least I hope so anyway).

Please drop a review and let me know what you think, what you're excited about, what you're dreading, what you do and don't want to happen - I enjoy writing, but I work extra hard on this for you my readers!


	24. Chapter 24

A/N I'm so sorry for missing last week's usual chapter upload! I got seriously caught up writing chapters 41, 42 and 43, I just couldn't stop writing them, so unfortunately 24 was left unfinished until tonight. It's kind of a filler chapter, one of those awkward ones where not a lot happens, but you kinda can't skip them either. Thanks for your patience readers, I hope you enjoy a little time in the Kingdom!

* * *

In the cafeteria Carrie patiently stood in line, and after having spent almost the entire day at the Kingdom she felt comfortable and at ease there, though the novelty of the curious glances and whispers was starting to wear off. Thankfully by now the cafeteria wasn't crowded, and it was clear that they were beginning to approach the end of dinner service, the signs outside the cafeteria doors stating the strict timeframes of breakfast, lunch and dinner. Some sections of tables had been roped off, one person stacking chairs on tables and sweeping while another followed with a mop and bucket, keeping the place clean and preparing for the next morning. From inside the kitchen there was the sound of jovial laughter, someone giving a loud squeal of protest. A deep booming voice echoed from inside, a heavy accent telling them to get back to work before yelling something indistinguishable…then more laughter.

As the line slowly but steadily moved Carrie finally took off her jacket, for there was no longer any reason to hide the fact she was pregnant. She'd had her ultrasound less than an hour ago, the occurrence of which only came about on the belief that they were safe here, that it was okay to show this vulnerability. Ahead of her Rick turned around and looked, politely offering to hold the jacket for her, but she declined with an affectionate smile, wanting something to do with her hands. She was glad when he turned back around and resumed his conversation with Carl, glad she didn't have to hold a smile when she really didn't feel like it.

By all means the day had gone well, and despite the shock of meeting Shiva and the somewhat eccentric King Ezekiel, the Alexandrians had come through this day with everything they needed. Carl was going to receive treatment, experienced doctors having laid out a plan for him, and Carrie had received a second and third opinion on the health of her baby. The day had been gone smoothly, yet Carrie's spirits hadn't been this low in months. What she wanted right now was privacy, the ability to shed a few tears and feel sorry for herself, for what her family was about to face…but damn she was hungry. Self-pity could wait. Hunger would not.

Even though many hours had passed, it felt like only five minutes ago that Rick had returned from taking Carl to the doctors, meeting up with them where they waited in Central Park. The absence of Carl by his side was quite conspicuous, but Carrie wasn't alarmed when she noted that Michonne and Denise were also absent. "How did it go?" she asked, holding her breath as she awaited the answer. Everyone else seemed to be holding their breath too, all waiting expectantly for Rick to give them the news.

"They can help him," he nodded, and as he said these words it seemed a physical weight was lifted from his shoulders. "They've got a treatment plan in mind, they're confident. He's back there now starting antibiotics."

"Then what?" Daryl asked, getting straight to the point. "We gettin' them drugs _to go_?"

Rick hesitated before answering, and it was in that moment that she knew she wasn't going to like what she heard. "He needs to stay here. He's going to have surgery. Maybe two."

Carrie's heart sank, although Denise had warned them of the likelihood of him undergoing surgery. "How long does he need to stay?"

He was apologetic when he told her. "At least six weeks they think. They want him here so they can supervise everything, so they can catch problems early."

It was a crushing disappointment, one that saw emotion welling up inside her chest before she could do anything about it, and so she allowed herself a brief moment of selfishness. If Carl was staying here for six weeks then so was Rick, she wouldn't have it any other way…but it meant she couldn't stay too. They didn't even need to talk it through to know that's what had to happen. They had Judith to consider, and if Rick was going to be away from home for six weeks, then Carrie had to be at home. For the first time in their entire relationship they were going to be apart, and the prospect of this unnerved her. It wasn't going to be like the old days when she left Logan at home in New York while she had a girl's weekend in the Hamptons. This would be for six weeks at least, with no contact other than prearranged meetings in which the two groups checked in with one another, and she doubted that she would be a welcome addition on those trips.

Yet despite the heavy disappointment and rush of emotions that hit her in that moment, Carrie kept herself together. It was going to be hard on Rick too, but this wasn't about them. This had to be about Carl, and frankly this was good news for him. Something could be done to help, to relieve the ongoing pain and give him back some quality of life, and God knew that he needed a win on his side right now. There was an end in sight for him, an end of his suffering, even if that end was six long weeks away.

In no time at all things were set in motion, Rick and the group having set forward their plan before Carl was even finished up with the doctors. Daryl had taken a group with him back home on the pretence of getting Rick, Carl and Denise some personal belongings, but in reality they were fostering them an escape plan. Though there was obviously enough confidence for Rick to entrust his son into care of the Kingdom for the next six weeks, a certain level of caution would always be exercised. Daryl and his group would return the following day with the Hyundai, leaving it where they had parked the RV earlier that day, being transparent with the Kingdom about the fact they wanted the ability to leave should they wish, but that wouldn't be their only option. A few miles further away would be another car, hidden but accessible, a small cache of weapons in the trunk should they need them. Nothing was to be left to chance during their stay here.

Carrie looked up as they reached the front of the line, her mouth watering when she looked at the abundance of fresh vegetables kept in the bain-marie. She had been able to smell the delicious flavours before she even stepped foot into the cafeteria, and her stomach grumbled as she thought about how long it had been since she had last eaten the other half of her sandwich. Richard had told them about the ration plan in place, but had welcomed them to eat as his guest, and it seemed there was no shortage of food. Before she realised it she was leaning forward, looking at what else she could see.

"You alright there?" Rick quietly teased, reaching back and slipping his arm around her waist. "Need a napkin for that drool on your chin?"

"It looks good," she sighed. "Better than what I cook up at home."

Wisely, he chose not to comment on this. When they reached the front of the line, Carrie trying not to make it too obvious that she was looking around at the Kingdomers there eating. But after a few minutes there was no point in pretending, particularly given how much attention they themselves had attracted. The group of strangers were practically the centre of attention, Carl in particular. Though no one had been anything less than welcoming, it seemed their intention to seek medical treatment had taken many by surprise.

"What are you having tonight, Danny?" the server at the bain-marie cheerfully asked, laughing to herself as she took up a clean tray. "Let me guess, the lobster with…"

The server trailed off when she raised her head and looked at Carl, appearing startled at the realisation that it was a stranger, not Danny. For a moment she gaped at him, but when she stood on the tip of her toes to properly see him over the bain-marie she seemed to understand. Still peering over she looked further down the line at the other strange faces, and then her eyes dropped to Carrie's belly, to the shirt that fit closely across her front.

"Hang on," she muttered in exasperation, putting down the tray before heading into the kitchen behind. "Chef! Out front, Chef."

Carrie stood there in bewilderment, looking over her shoulder to Carol. "Richard told us to come and eat here, right? Six thirty?"

"Yeah, that's what he told us," she replied with a frown, she too looking around at their people for an explanation.

A moment later their explanation burst out of the kitchen door, a gargantuan man taller and bulkier than Abraham making his way through as he wiped his hand on a dishtowel. He wore a buttoned up Chef's uniform that was stained across the front with something orange, his blue and white apron strung low around his waist as he came through to the service area. Easily seeing over the top of the glass bain-marie he looked at each of the strangers in turn, his pockmarked and weather beaten face scrutinising them. Finally he turned to Carl who stood at the front of the line, who looked up at him with a unique combination of awe and intimidation.

"You are the special order? Yes?" the man asked bluntly, his voice heavy with a European accent.

"Uh…I'm Carl," he said slowly.

"I'm Chef," he grunted before turning away. He reached into the servery window behind him and slammed his hand down onto a silver bell, ringing it a couple of times. "The boy and the mama are here," he said loudly to the people inside. "Come on, they're hungry," he added before trailing off in a low mutter.

Carrie exchanged a glance with Carl, his growing smile infectious. "Is Chef your actual name?" Carl enquired, trying not to sound too eager.

"I am Chef, that's all you need to know," he said, his tone short and clipped. When he turned back to them he held a cafeteria tray, and he set it down and then gestured for Carl to look at it. "Burger and fries, and now vegetables too," he said, his tone a little more friendly now. He reached for a spoon and added a serving of peas to the tray. "You will eat it all. Do you like cabbage?"

"Uhhh," Carl started, surprised by the turn of events. "Su-"

"You'll have cabbage. It's good for healing, full of glutamine. It'll make you fart," he said seriously, looking Carl in the eye as he added a serving of cabbage. "But it's alright, I don't live with you. Chocolate or strawberry?"

"F-for what?" Carl asked, grinning now.

"For your milkshake," he said as though it were obvious. He selected another spoon and added some carrots. "You are special order. Extra calories, extra nutrition. What flavour? Come on."

"Chocolate, please."

"Chocolate milkshake for the boy," Chef hollered, reaching back and ringing the bell again. "Tomorrow is Donut Day. Any kind of donut you like. You get two, alright? Two donuts for special orders."

"Sweet, thanks."

Chef nodded, passing him his tray of food and then pointing to the ketchup stand. "You eat it all, nothing left. Got it?"

"Got it, thanks."

Chef seemed to mutter something under his breath before turning his attention to Rick, and Carrie could barely hold back the burst of laughter that escaped her lips when she saw her husband visibly bracing himself.

"No milkshake for you," Chef said bluntly, collecting an empty tray and beginning to fill it, and his servings were half the size of what Carl received. "Standard rations, water to drink. Have bread and pretend it's a veggie burger," he said, slapping a thin slice of bread on top of some mashed potatoes and passing him the tray, not noticing his words of gratitude. He had already turned to Carrie, and his beaming smile looked genuine. "Ahhh, and the Mama," he declared loudly, making sure everyone in the cafeteria turned and looked at her, not that they weren't already. "You are special order too. Extra calories."

She smiled, endeared by him. "Yes, please."

"Special order, real burger," he assured her, turning away and ringing the bell in the servery window. Moments later a tray with the same burger and fries as Carl's appeared.

Her mouth started watering again, longing for the meat patty and cheese that practically glistened…in the old world she wouldn't have touched a cheese burger, but tonight she couldn't wait to sink her teeth into it. Just like with Carl her tray was swiftly loaded with a prime selection of vegetables, and though the servings were generous in size she got the feeling she might be able to manage it.

"Chocolate or strawberry?"

"Strawberry, thank you." Her preference would have been chocolate, but she knew Rick would like the strawberry better…maybe when Chef wasn't looking he could have some.

"Two donuts for you. You'll remember, yes?"

"Yes, I'll remember."

"You get hungry you come see me, I'll make you something good to eat," he assured her, passing her tray up and waiting for her to collect it. "But not after nine. By nine, I'm too drunk to light the stove." When she laughed in amusement he looked at her seriously, raising his left hand and showing her what remained of his fifth finger. "I lost my fingertip trying to make a Borscht after nine," he said seriously. "The Borscht was incredible, there was something special about it…but I never did find that finger tip."

There was no stopping the laughter that burst from her chest now, her downed spirits soaring as she began to suspect exactly where that fingertip had ended up. She thanked him as she took her tray and fell into step beside Rick, and she made a quick glance over her shoulder to Carol and Rosita who were next in line. Chef stayed and served them too, and though he bluntly warned them they were only getting standard rations, there seemed to be a promise of donut holes tomorrow.

As they took their seats Carrie couldn't stop smiling, the simple visit to the cafeteria suddenly feeling somewhat festive, as though they were a family who had all gone out to eat together. In no time at all another kitchen worker had delivered two milkshakes to their table, fussing for a few moments to make sure they had napkins and that they knew where the water was. Trying not to gulp it, Carrie happily took her first sip of the strawberry milkshake, having not enjoyed this type of luxury for a long time.

She looked up when she saw Carol coming, and though the seat beside her was empty Carrie didn't get her hopes up that she would take it. As she suspected she might, Carol took a seat at a nearby empty table and was joined by Rosita and Denise, both of them setting down their trays of standard rations like Rick's. Trying not to dwell on it, Carrie simply turned to her cafeteria tray and followed Carl's lead by taking a bite of her burger. For a brief moment her troubles were gone, a deep moan escaping her throat as she tasted the delicious beef and what had to be real cheese. She closed her eyes in exaltation, briefly questioning her intention to share this with Rick.

"This is really good," Carl sighed, looking at his burger fondly. "It's just like I remember…"

Licking ketchup from her lips Carrie glanced up towards the kitchen, noting that Chef was still out there, he and Abraham now talking at length while someone else had come out to serve the others waiting in line. She dared not be caught sharing her food, not wanting to incur the wrath of an angry chef, and so she waited. A few minutes later someone rang the bell from inside the kitchen, and then he parted ways with Abraham and returned to the kitchen.

"Here, quick," she said, swiftly passing Rick her burger.

"I knew you'd make a good wife," he said in gratitude, taking a quick bite and then handing it back. Just like she had he closed his eyes for a moment, a low moan rumbling in his throat as he tasted it. It was a reminder that although she hadn't eaten red meat in about three weeks, it had to have been longer since he had.

"Do you think it's as good as Shake Shack?" he asked Carl, turning to him and stealing a couple of fries from his tray.

Carl nodded as he took another bite. "I think it's better than Shake Shack. No competition."

"You remember we'd go there when we went to Atlanta? We used to hide the burgers and fries in Mom's handbag when we went to the see a movie?"

Carl's face lit up, struck by the sudden memory. "Yes! She used to complain so much."

"Well, she was always finding fries in the bottom of her bag for weeks. But you could always tell if she took a big handbag when we went to Atlanta, we were going to see a movie."

"You ever do that, Carrie? Sneak burgers into the movies?"

She shook her head in disgust. No way would she have eaten at Shake Shack, let alone carry it in her Birkin Bag. As they continued eating they fell into a comfortable silence, speaking only when Carrie pushed her strawberry milkshake across to Rick, encouraging him to take a sip. Her initial thoughts that she could eat all of this were starting to prove her wrong, and taking another glance up at the kitchen she swiftly offloaded some of her fries onto Rick's tray, a gesture that was not met with complaint. Even by what the Kingdom called standard rations, they were having a good meal tonight.

"So, Carl," Rick began, sneaking another sip of Carrie's strawberry milkshake. "Tell me about this cigarette you smoked."

Carrie looked around in surprise, her mouth gaping as she stared at him. "Carl!" When she saw Rick raise his hand just a little she didn't say anything else, the small gesture enough to tell her that he had this covered. She turned back to him now and studied his expression, surprised to see that he didn't look too angry. _He ought not be too angry_ , she thought to herself. _He was the one who had set such a poor example_.

"It was only one," Carl muttered, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

"No, you plead guilty to two and a half."

"Two and a half puffs," he argued. "One cigarette. Two and a half puffs. I swear."

"And this was after the first cigarette that you said made you puke? The one Daryl let you smoke?"

Muttering an affirmative answer, Carl turned back to his tray and took a rather large mouthful of cabbage, intentionally delaying any other response he had to make. Rick waited patiently, and before he could take another mouthful he asked another question.

"Where did you get the cigarette?" he asked curiously. "You said it tasted terrible. Did you get it from a Walker?"

Carl looked rather uncomfortable with the entire conversation, which thankfully meant he answered without delay. "Remember when you punished me for sneaking out, and made me do all that yard work and cleaning?"

"I remember."

"Well, you made me clean all the cars, including Aidan's run van…it was in the glove compartment."

It took every ounce of self-control Carrie possessed to keep her expression neutral. "In Aidan's run van, huh?" she asked, taking a sip of her milkshake as she gave Rick a pointed look. She knew exactly what Aidan used to keep in the glove compartment. "And it had a funny taste?"

"Yeah, I think it was old or something, and it was kind'a falling apart…didn't even have that white thing in the end."

She saw the very moment realisation dawned on Rick's face, an exasperated look coming over his face as she held his gaze. They both knew it wasn't tobacco in that cigarette, but to his credit he managed to find the humour in the situation. A small smile came across his face, though he opted not to share it with Carl.

"I hope that headache taught you a lesson."

"Said the pot to the kettle," Carrie teased, grinning at him.

Without skipping a beat Carl tore a napkin from a the dispenser and offered it to Rick. "Have a napkin Dad, you just got serv-"

"You are not too old to be spanked," he said sternly, cutting him off. He turned to Carrie now, his stern expression wavering just a little. "And neither are you. Got it?"

Carrie was completely unconcerned. "Carl, just remember how great it was living with your dad when he gave up smoking. Such a pleasant person to be around."

"Yeah," he muttered sarcastically, reaching for the last of his fries. "No one was avoiding him at all."

"All you need to keep in mind is that smoking cigarettes is bad for your circulation," Rick lectured before lowering his voice. "And what do men need good circulation for?"

Carl frowned down at his food, thinking about the question. "Ummm," he floundered a few moments, but then his face fell as the answer dawned on him. He looked up at Rick in surprise. "Really? It can make you not get…" he trailed off, awkwardly glancing at Carrie. "You know…"

When Rick nodded it was immediately clear the message had hit home, Carl's cheeks tinging pink as he looked back at his burger. Glad that he wasn't paying attention to her Carrie simply tilted her head at Rick, brushing her foot against his ankle to get his attention. _Hasn't hurt you_ she mouthed to him, loving the way he smirked, pleased with her comment. From then on they finished eating, Carrie forced to recruit he and Carl into helping her finish the rest of her meal. It all looked so appetising, but she just couldn't stomach all of it after eating so conservatively for so long, even being pregnant. When the whole group was finished they cleared their trays, Carl thanking one of the workers who came over to wipe the table top. To their surprise the worker paused and introduced himself to them all, cheerfully shaking their hands and welcoming them to the Kingdom.

As he and Carl got to talking Carrie slipped on her jacket, still looking around the school cafeteria. The dinner service was winding down, but there were still hungry late comers to feed that night, someone still standing at the bain-marie to serve trays. Earlier Carrie had overheard that there were over one hundred and forty residents living in the Kingdom, and it had to be a mammoth task to feed them all three meals a day. It was no small wonder the head chef was drunk by nine o'clock. Speaking of him, Chef and one of the other kitchen workers had come out and settled themselves down at a table, kicking back with their feet on the chairs while they ate their own meal and drank a well deserved beer. When he caught Carrie's eye he beamed at her, raising his bottle to her.

"You get hungry, you come see me," he reminded her, calling out across the cafeteria.

She smiled and nodded, raising her hand in thanks before turning to Rick who was waiting for her. Slipping her hand into his they departed together, following the others as Richard escorted them out into the cold night and across the campus. While they walked he entwined their fingers and squeezed, and it was then she felt her wedding rings pressed against her knuckles. The simple motion made her heart ache, for she involuntarily began to think about the coming weeks, the separation that had to ensure.

"Everything alright?" he asked quietly, the group making their way through the darkness, Richard guiding them with a solar powered lantern.

"Yeah," she said, though it didn't feel like everything was alright. Now that they had left the cafeteria the earlier sense of festivity had faded, taken place by a reality that she wasn't ready to face. She knew this was what their family needed, but she was going to miss them both…she couldn't yet comprehend that tomorrow she would be returning to Alexandria without them.

"Daryl's coming home with you tomorrow," he began thoughtfully, trying to ease her anxieties. "And we'll have a meeting to check in every week. Carl and I can come home for a day, maybe stay the night. We'll be come home for Christmas too."

As they walked Carrie looked up at the group ahead of them, knowing that he had the same concerns as she did. She squeezed his hand and moved closer against his side, relishing the touch of his arm against hers…she was going to miss that.

"Don't worry about me. Don't worry about Judith," she began, taking her turn to provide reassurance. "Just focus on Carl, on getting him better. You take care of him, I'll take care of Judy. This will all be over before we know it."

Appreciating her words and the strength she was showing, Rick leant over and kissed the side of her forehead, showing a display of affection that had been largely withheld since their arrival here. He whispered his thanks, smiling as he reminded her to take care of Daryl too, to make sure he didn't skip dinner too often. Thankfully they didn't have far to walk that night, and in no time at all they were entering the building that Dianne had pointed out to them earlier that day, following Richard down the long hall to one of the classrooms that had been arranged to accomodate them for the night. Though it was relatively early they were turning in for the night, trying to avoid the cold weather that had picked up outside.

Their accomodations were more than suitable to their needs, for although it had been arranged quickly they had everything they needed. The building itself had been carefully renovated in order to accomodate people living there, rather than a classroom full of students. The walls were lined with insulation and dry wall, extra layers of carpet installed for extra warmth, the windows double glazed. Anything that could be done to keep the buildings warmer in winter and cooler in summer had been done, for with material and labour readily available the only limitation was skill. In the classroom the existing furniture had been pushed up against the walls, and set out onto the floor were comfortable mattresses for each of them, an abundance of bedding also provided.

"Jerry will bring by a gun safe for you to use," Richard told them, having urged them to make themselves at home. "This is the only place other than your holsters that we will tolerate you having your weapons."

"Our earlier agreement still stands," Rick assured him, referring to their agreement to not draw their weapons. "We understand the expectations."

Richard held his gaze for a moment, but ultimately seemed to hold trust. "The bathroom facilities are outside the opposite end of the building, and there are guards stationed at each exit."

"For our own protection, I'm sure," Rick said amenably, yet another indication that they understood the expectations.

Satisfied that he understood Richard managed a small smile, and then he extended his hand to him. "Sleep well," he said, the two of them shaking hands.

"Thank you."

It was close quarters for them that evening, particularly once they set the mattress out and distributed the bedding, but none of them were concerned. For a couple of hours they passed the time talking, the six of them rehashing the plan for the next couple of weeks, discussing contingencies and what was to happen should something go wrong. There would be scheduled meetings to check in, easy access to cars and weapons outside the Kingdom's walls, code words to indicate that something was wrong…they had everything covered.

Despite not wanting morning to come, Carrie was glad when they turned in for the night, selfishly wanting to spend every moment possible with her husband. So when they pushed their mattresses together and lay down hand in hand she was satisfied, glad they she had his full attention for the next little while. Laying with her head on his shoulder she wished she could bottle the peaceful moment, wanting to remember everything. The way his chest rose and fell with every breath, his familiar smell, even the annoying way his duty belt dug into her thigh. On the other hand he was staring up at the ceiling, his eyes glazed over while his hand rested on her belly. He had been waiting to feel something from the baby, to feel the small flutters of movement that were becoming all the more common. But as if it knew he was waiting, the baby wasn't moving at all.

"I think Carl's going to like it here," she whispered through the darkness. "There's so many people his age. Did you hear about the Dodgeball tournament?"

"I did," he whispered back. "Hopefully he'll be able to play a few rounds."

"The people are nice…some of them a little intimidating, but still nice."

"And tomorrow is donut day."

At this Carrie sighed. "I'll probably miss it."

"Do you think Chef would let me have yours?"

"Fat chance," she chuckled. "But I dare you to give it a shot."

Sharing her amusement, Rick gave a heavy sigh before moving onto his side to face her, the two of them readjusting as they got comfortable. His hand remained on her belly a few moments longer, but then to her surprise he took it away only to resettle it significantly higher. She held her breath when she felt his fingers brushing the swell of her breast, lingering there before slipping under the top of her shirt.

"What are you doing?"

He answered with a shrug, but he didn't take his hand away. Instead he moved closer to her now, nuzzling her cheek as his other hand slipped into her hair. He tilted her head back and then pressed his lips to hers, gently at first. When he kissed her properly she felt herself moving closer in turn, her lips parting to give him more, to take all she could. She relished every moment, every touch, knowing she would need these memories to sustain her for an undetermined length of time. There was no telling when he'd be able to visit Alexandria, for even his promise of Christmas time hinged on other elements successfully falling into place. With this in mind she kissed him back sensually, touching her tongue to his as she pulled the blankets higher up. Assured of their privacy she pulled down her shirt and bra to let him touch her at leisure.

She gave him an inch, but he took a mile. In no time at all he had lowered his mouth to her breast, laving his tongue around her nipple as his hand wandered further south. With urgency he put his hand on her ass and squeezed, using it to pull her hips against his. It was immediately clear that he was hard inside his jeans, or at least well on the way there, and so she reluctantly put a stop to him.

"Rick, we can't," she whispered, trying to ignore the desire to let him do whatever he was going to do.

"Why not?" he challenged. He raised his head back to hers, his breath hot on her cheek.

"Becau-"

"Six weeks, Babe," he reminded her, the use of a pet name his attempt to win her over. "Six weeks."

Knowing how best to convince her he brought his lips to the crook of her neck, his gentle kisses a precursor to the luscious kiss that never failed to make her tremble. But she couldn't let him, not now, not like this.

"Rick," she whispered, pulling her shoulder away. "Carl is right beside you."

His tongue darted out, tickling the front of her neck. "He's asleep."

"No I'm not," Carl stated loudly, making his consciousness perfectly clear. "Please don't do anything weird."

Immediately she felt Rick's body tense, and she could only imagine the sour expression on his face. If she wasn't as equally frustrated as him she would have laughed.

"No, go right ahead," Abraham piped up. "Do something weird."

"Go to sleep, all of you," Rick said firmly, slumping back down onto his pillow.

As equally disappointed, Carrie pulled her bra and shirt back up and then settled herself in for a brief wait, her hand resting on his chest. "Just give it ten minutes," she breathed into his ear.

The wait was excruciating, and she tortured the both of them by allowing her hand to drift down to the front of his jeans, coming to a rest right on top of his erection. As she waited she tried not to laugh at his expense, noticing the way he tried moving his hips up against her hand, the way he kept trying to coax her into a kiss. He was persistent she had to give him that much, but with the rest of the group still wide awake they had to bide their time, to wait for the right moment. As the minutes passed she allowed herself to feel excited, glad to have this last time with him before their separation.

Finally she could wait no longer, and making no secret of it she sat up on her mattress. "I have to go to the bathroom," she said softly, feigning apology. "Can you come with me? I don't really know where it is."

Playing along, Rick gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine," he muttered, he too sitting up and reaching for his boots.

If anyone was still awake they made no mention of their departure, allowing them to take their weapons from the safe and slip away with their dignity in tact. The air was colder out in the corridor, but soon enough they would have one another to stay warm, and so they set off hand in hand down the long school corridor. With guards stationed at each building exit they made sure not to draw attention to themselves as they wandered the building, and they selected the first classroom that they deemed private enough. Silently slipping inside they closed the door, Rick fumbling to find the lock before realising there wasn't one. For a moment he cringed and looked around, turning on his flashlight and looking for something. Wanting the extra element of security he selected one of the school chairs stacked high in the corner and carefully wedged it under the door handle.

Carrie on the other hand was making herself comfortable, taking a seat on the teacher's desk before removing her jacket, not caring about the cold. Swinging her legs beneath the desk she gave Rick a coy smile as he made his way over to her, and she couldn't help the comment she made. "I'm sorry Mr Grimes," she began sweetly. "I forgot my homework."

Removing his duty belt and setting it aside he simply smiled at her. "Well, you'll have to serve detention for that."

It took all she had to keep a straight face. "Isn't there anything I could do to earn some extra credit?"

When she lowered her tank top and bra to her waist he watched on in appreciation, and it was he who lost the pretence first. "You're going to kill me," he warned, joining her at the desk. "Hold on to that thought for when I come home, alright?"

Taking every advantage they kissed languidly, glad they had been able to find some privacy. Without wasting time he ushered her off the desk and then helped her out of her jeans, shucking them down her legs and then removing her shoes, tossing them aside with reckless abandon. Amused by his haste she followed his requests to get back up onto the desk, and after a quick rub of his hand between her legs he was opening his jeans, ready to start.

"Uh uh, not so fast," she scolded him. "You think you're getting a quickie without making sure I come first?"

"My apologies for the oversight," he said, changing tact. His hands settled on her knees now, holding them apart before slowly moving up the inside of her thighs. He kissed her slowly now, leaving her thoroughly breathless. "Lay down."

Though she shook her head, she did lean back onto her hands. "I'd rather watch…at least while I can still see."

"You're going to have to be quiet," he warned, pressing one last kiss to her lips before moving lower, kissing each of her breasts. Crouching down he used his elbows to keep her legs apart, and he brought his well practiced mouth between her legs.

Trying to keep quiet she took a deep breath before pressing her lips closed, forcing herself to internalise every gasp, every moan. Sex had not been lacking as of late, particularly given the high of their recent wedding, and the idea of going without for quiet some time was most unwelcome. Pleased with his efforts, hasty though they were, she waited until she could feel that it was the right time before taking a fist full of his hair and pulling him away from her. Doing what she knew would get herself off most easily she ushered him to lay down on the floor, neither of them particularly concerned with comfort. Settling herself over him she let him guide himself inside her, and the squeak of a gasp escaped her throat.

It was going to be a very long six weeks.

* * *

Saturday, November 22

As if mimicking how Rick felt inside, the weather was starting to turn bad by the time late morning came around, impending rain hastening their need to depart for Alexandria. Their time at the Kingdom had drawn to a close too quickly, for as soon as it was decided that some of them were to stay while the others went home the hours seemed to slip away with cruel haste. They found themselves far busier than anticipated, Rick and Carl getting a full tour of the Kingdom grounds, meeting dozens of people and learning about their way of life. Carrie had been for an ultrasound and a full physical check up, a visit in itself which had taken longer than expected…and then the day was over. Before they knew it they were turning in for the night, counting down the hours until Carrie and the others had to leave.

Thankfully, he and Carrie had managed to steal away a little time together, time in which they tried to make their impending separation a little less difficult. Though given the uncomfortable carpet burn he now had on his ass, he did wish they had taken the time to scope out something a little more comfortable for their farewell quickie. Last night they couldn't even collapse into a heap together, and he barely had time to hold her in his arms they way he liked to as their breathing slowed. Conscious of how long they had been gone they quickly redressed, making a hasty stop by the bathrooms for what was now a genuine need.

As they had been warned, a guard was stationed outside the exit to the building, but he seemed unconcerned by their presence so late at night. He simply pointed them in the direction to the demountable restrooms a few yards away, giving them a lantern to take and warning them to double check for toilet paper. They found no trouble with their late night wanderings until they returned to their classroom to find Abraham awake, waiting for their return.

"Got lost, did you?" he teased, knowing exactly what they had been doing.

A quick glance at Carl was all Rick needed to be assured he was fast asleep. Giving a rather satisfied sigh he laid down with Carrie. "Nope. Didn't get lost at all."

His bragging earned him a playful smack from Carrie, but when silence resumed they fell asleep with relative ease. Morning came too quickly, and as soon as they awoke the clock was ticking, counting down until their return home, and their departure would only be delayed for so long. While most of the group had already returned to Alexandria for good, Daryl and Lana had made a second trip back to the Kingdom to deliver belongings for Rick, Carl, Denise and Michonne. It was with them that Carrie, Abraham and Rosita were to return to home, and though their arrival at precisely the agreed time indicated it was time to leave, they seemed to be in immediate hurry.

When they reached the car Carrie seemed more disheartened than he anticipated, though he knew now that it wasn't just about leaving him and Carl behind. Only that morning Carol had announced her decision to stay too, this coming so late that Daryl hadn't even brought back any of her belongings, although the Kingdom were happy to supply whatever she would need. But Carrie seemed to have taken Carol's decision to stay particularly hard, making Rick wonder why. Was it a matter of practicality? Had she been depending on Carol being around in order to help her out with Judith, or was it something else? Was it personal?

He knew that Carrie seemed pretty down about Carol these days, and he recalled her saying more than once that something was wrong, that Carol was no longer interested in their friendship. But at the time Rick hadn't known what to make of it, and so had never really addressed the problem, instead brushing it over and moving on to other things. Carol could be that way sometimes. Perfectly warm and friendly one day, then cool and aloof the next, that was just her. Carrie ought not to take these things so personally, though he wasn't stupid enough to say that to her face.

Unable to delay any longer, Rick helped load the trunk of the car with the numerous trays of food that were being sent home with them. While Chef had been appalled to hear that Carrie wasn't staying for donut day, he had already made a fuss to ensure that she was being sent home with an assortment food. Their car was no loaded with trays of casseroles, meat leaden stews and raw cuts of beef, a long list of handwritten instructions for how Olivia was to store it all. It had been brought up during Carl's consultation and then Carrie's ultrasound, and both Mak and Brea seemed concerned by the fact that there wasn't a lot of meat readily available in Alexandria. When this came to the attention of King Ezekiel there was no question that their resources would be shared.

"We'll provide a trade for all of this," Rick insisted, turning to Richard and King Ezekiel who had walked them to where they had left their car inside the gates.

As expected, Richard tried to brush it off. "We'll talk about it later. Just take it for now."

"Let your community harbour no doubt," Ezekiel began proudly, speaking to all of them now. "The Kingdom and Alexandria are allies. Friends who will work in harmony, and who will share and distribute our collective resources such that no one shall go without."

Rick nodded in gratitude, understanding what he was saying. "You scratch our back, we'll scratch yours."

"Yes," Richard said lowly, extending his hand. "Tit for tat. We can make that work."

While they shook hands Ezekiel watched on in satisfaction, he too shaking Rick's hand. "I foresee a long and prosperous relationship between our two communities. Already there's been much discussion of Alexandria's help with our livestock and…" he trailed off as Richard cleared his throat, subtly gesturing to Carrie who waited patiently nearby. Ezekiel smiled apologetically. "I see now this is a discussion for another time. Until then, I will leave you to your family."

Grateful for the consideration, Rick thanked them both and returned to Carrie, slipping his hand around her side as she and Carl watched an argument between Daryl and Lana. Looking up at him she managed a smile, moving into his embrace and putting her hand around his hip and into his back pocket. He relished the touch of her body against his, knowing it was just one of many things he would miss until they returned to Alexandria.

"This will be done with before you know it," he assured her. "In no time at all we'll be back home, and you'll be complaining about the mess we both make."

"That's true," she nodded in agreement. "I won't miss cleaning up after the two of you."

"The rules of shot gun are Bible!" Lana was arguing. "We were all within sight of the car when I called it, so how come I can't sit up front?"

"Cos you ain't ten fucking feet tall!" Daryl retorted, wildly gesturing to Abraham who was taking the passenger seat. "He sits in the back and his knees are up at his damn chin!"

"Then I should be able to drive."

Daryl openly laughed at her. "Fuck no, we wanna make it home alive. You Aussies wouldn't know which side o' the road to drive on!"

With a great sigh Carrie pulled away from Rick and turned to Carl, engulfing him in a great hug. "Wish me luck for the ride home," she requested, Daryl and Lana still arguing as they fought for the driver's seat.

He waited patiently while she bid her farewells to Michonne and Denise, taking a few moments to thank Richard and Ezekiel for their hospitality. It was nice seeing her like this, seeing the way she was with people outside of their community. Things had been so hard for her after Pete's attack, when she found out about the pregnancy…seeing the way she was now was the reassurance he needed to know that she was going to be just fine in these coming weeks.

When it came time to say goodbye they made a point of not drawing it out, simply taking a few moments to hold one another, to appreciate them while they could. They parted with a soft kiss, his hand resting on the side of her belly even though he couldn't feel any movement. Packed safely in the car was an ultrasound snapshot of the baby, one of the clearest images they'd seen of it yet. When he came home it be on the refrigerator for him to see again, something else for him to look forward to.

"I love you," she murmured, smiling before stealing one last kiss.

"Love you too."

Without delaying any further she joined the others at the car, her light hearted wave not quite genuine, but not completely faked either. In the rear of the car she was joining Daryl and Lana, who due to their argument had been forced to rescind the driver's seat to Rosita, though their argument had died down now. They were back to their usual selves, Daryl holding the door open for Carrie as she climbed in. Before he too got in he looked up at Rick, a brief nod shared between the two of them that spoke volumes. While Rick had to be away, the rest of the group would step up as needed, taking care of anything that arose so that he could focus on Carl. All in all Daryl was a pretty low maintenance house mate, and he'd make good company for Carrie. Those two had always gotten along well, right from the very start.

"So long, Sweetums," Abraham called as they started to drive away, leaning out of the window and blowing them a kiss.

Not even bothering to shake his head in exasperation, Rick just raised his hand and waved them off, and before he could really comprehend it they had departed the Kingdom walls. The moment they cleared them the gates began to close, and as quickly as these things had always been, they were gone. For a long moment Rick stood there and looked at the closed gate. Beside him Carl was waiting loyally, while further back Michonne, Richard and Ezekiel also waited. Not wanting to keep any of them for too long Rick turned on his heel, clasping his hand to Carl's shoulder as they set off onto their next task, their long term accomodations.

"You signed up dodgeball yet?" he asked, needing to make conversation. In the back of his mind he was picturing his group's route home, calculating how long it ought to take them.

"Yeah, we're gonna play on Benjamin's team."

Rick frowned at this. "We?"

Carl grinned, clearly having been awaiting that reaction. "Yeah, you and me," he said cheerfully, and the smile that came next was the one Rick recognised from Carl's younger days, back when he could still melt his heart. "Come on, Dad."

"You don't wanna play with Michonne?" he asked, gesturing to her as she walked ahead with Ezekiel and Richard.

He shook his head. "Why would I want to play with her on my team, when I could play _against_ her."

"You make an excellent point."

"So, you'll play?"

Rick laughed at himself, fully aware that Carl had won this round. "Against Michonne, you bet your ass I'll play."

"Awesome," Carl smiled, though it began to fade as self-awareness set in. "She's gonna wipe the floor with us, isn't she?"

Again, Rick clasped his hand onto his son's shoulder, and for the first time he was actually looking forward to their stay in the Kingdom. "Michonne, wipe the floor with us? Yeah…that's gonna happen."

* * *

A/N To make it up for my delay in posting I'll post chapter 25 mid-week, and I think you're going to love the dra-ma!


	25. Chapter 25

Saturday December 6.

Two weeks has passed since the day Rick and Carrie had parted ways at the Kingdom, and in the days that followed she was surprised by how quickly life began to feel normal. Days passed and people carried on as though nothing was amiss, and in a way nothing _was_ amiss. Five of their people were absent, but they were safe. There was a roof over their heads, food in their stomach, whatever medical care they needed…that would have to be enough reassurance for those like Carrie who waited at home. Besides, Carrie wasn't the only one who was missing someone. Maggie and Glenn's house was a fraction quieter without Michonne's easygoing companionship, while Tara and Tobin were also missing their significant other. Conscious of this, she tried to keep perspective so that she didn't descend into self pity.

Somehow it became normal…a new kind of normal, anyway. After a couple of restless nights she got used to going to bed alone, to waking during the night and hearing only silence, not the sound of Rick's breathing. His absence at night was quickly filled by Judith, who also seemed to be adjusting to the fact that her dad and brother were no longer around right now. After a couple of nights coming in to find Judith asleep in the main bed, having snuck out of her bedroom to sleep beside Carrie, she stopped putting her back. It was a bad habit to let Judith stay after she crept in, but while it had always been nice cuddling up to her in the mornings, it was even nicer having her there all night. Rick would never have to know, and she wouldn't let this go on forever…just one more night.

Soon other things began to settle too, Carrie starting to get used to the fact that she was just about the only adult who occupied her house. Despite being around and still living there, Daryl was more often than not out hunting, or doing whatever it is he did these days. Nevertheless he was always home in the evenings, lending an extra hand when Carrie was tired or Judith was resisting her bed time…he wasn't around much, but he seemed to turn up when she needed him.

Alexandria had celebrated Thanksgiving last week, she and Maggie having cooked a small dish while Glenn watched the kids, and then the entire community ate together in the church, everyone bringing something. It was far from the smorgasbord of the old days, rations were strict even on the holidays, but it had been nice. As she ate and gave thanks for all they still had, she tried not to dwell on the fact that her first Thanksgiving as a family with Rick was spent apart. Now Christmas was approaching, in nineteen days to be precise.

It was nineteen days until a guaranteed visit from her husband and step son, that had been Rick's promise. They might come sooner, just for a couple of hours when Carl was deemed well enough to leave Mak and Brea's supervision, but there was no guarantee. Christmas on the other hand was a guarantee. It had been his promise, one that she trusted he would do everything he could to uphold…he would do whatever he could to get there and celebrate their first Christmas together. It was nineteen days away…not that she was counting down.

They'd had word from Rick on the previous Monday, their agreed upon schedule for a meeting and update. Carl was thriving in the Kingdom, bolstered not only by the intensive antibiotic therapy and a calorie high meal plan, but also by a genuine enjoyment of his time there. From what she had heard he was having the time of his life at the Kingdom, settling in well and making friends, eagerly taking on various jobs and chores. There was plenty there for him to do, something with which he could occupy his time…he didn't always have that in Alexandria where not a lot happened. He was having fun, eating well - he had gained three pounds in a week, progress that had been almost unheard of in the last five months.

His first surgery had been scheduled for this time last week, the wound debridement that would remove all dying flesh to leave nothing behind but a healthy wound bed, but they'd been forced to delay. A sore throat and a temperature had turned into the flu, an illness that had been spreading around the Kingdom as it tended to do in close quarters. The last they'd heard was that Carl wasn't exactly bedridden, still insisting that he go to work washing dishes in the cafeteria, but that it was enough to deter Mak and Brea from performing his surgery. So it had been delayed, and Carrie knew nothing more than that. He might have had it already by now, but she wasn't to know until the next meet up with Rick on Monday.

Though there had been no end to her community's support, today Carrie had politely declined any offers to take Judith off her hands, preferring instead to spend the day with her going about various tasks. With Rick away a lightbulb seemed to have turned on inside Judith's head, as if she suddenly remembered that Carrie was still relatively new at this whole parenting thing. For the first time ever she had started testing boundaries with her, ignoring what she had been asked to do, breaking long standing rules that she had always happily adhered to. Somehow they had both made it through the last two weeks alive and with their happy relationship in tact, thanks mostly to Barbara who had assured her that some gentle discipline wasn't going to break Judith's heart.

Today things had been better, Judith having awoken on the right side of the bed and started her day well. Hopeful that things stayed that way, Carrie declined offers of taking a short break. They had spent the morning hanging out at home with one another, going about various tasks like sorting out the abundance of baby clothes that were being handed down from Herschel or retrieved on supply runs. As Judith helped in her own way Carrie found her frequently looking at the tiny jumpsuits and diapers, trying to understand why Herschel's clothing were spread out on the floor of their spare bedroom.

"It's for your baby brother or sister," Carrie had explained, trying to gauge Judith's comprehension of this. She hadn't really understood Herschel's impending birth until he was there, but it seemed she was struggling to make the connection that it was going to happen again.

"Herschel's," she stated, clutching his tiny shoes before dumping them at the bedroom door as if they'd return them to him.

"He's giving them to the baby to wear," she explained, keeping her voice light and happy as she pointed to her belly. "Remember? There's a baby in Mommy's belly."

Judith just looked at her, skeptically casting her eyes over her belly. Completely uninterested, she broke out into a cheerful babble of nursery rhymes as she returned to the plastic tub of baby clothes and continued passing them to Carrie one by one. Figuring it might be easier to understand when she could really feel the baby moving, Carrie was content to leave further explanations for now, instead contenting herself as she and Judith worked on sorting out the clothes they would need, sorting through the sizes and choosing what she did and didn't like. There was an absolute abundance, and she had the luxury of choice.

Wanting to leave some of this work for when Rick was home, Carrie only spent an hour or so in the baby's room. Later in the day they ventured outside to check on the gardens, pulling a couple of weeds and admiring what would soon be an abundant winter crop. Elsewhere in the community their livestock numbers had grown, thanks to the generosity of the Kingdom. After meeting up with Rick earlier in the week Daryl had returned home with not only more general food and supplies, but with six pigs for them to start breeding. It seemed an arrangement of some kind was in the works, Alexandria helping to breed livestock while taking a cut. The construction crew were already starting a hasty expansion of the walls that would soon encompass a field in which they would keep two cows, Rosie and Meatloaf would who hopefully also breed.

By early evening the day was winding down, but not for everyone. Making the most of Saturday, Carrie was getting ready for a night out on the town with all of her friends…sort of. Over the last few months Saturday's had turned into girls night, all those who were free heading up to the church to hang out together and have a few drinks, this being one of the more exciting elements of their social lives in the quiet community. Tonight though things were considerably more low key, such to the extent that it had been pretty much called off. Maggie had a tough day with Herschel, while at least a dozen others had come down with sore throats and stuffy noses. Not wanting to risk it, Carrie wasn't willing to set foot into the church to spend time with those who had braved the cold weather to go out and spread their germs. Instead she was joining Lana and Mina for a cosy night on their terrace, having been repeatedly assured of their good health.

Like the week previous, Daryl was taking over the care of Judith, not looking at all put out that Carrie had asked him to spend the evening at home with her. Simply agreeing to it and ensuring that Sasha didn't put him on watch, he came home early from whatever it was he did these days and took over. He would feed her, bathe her, read her to sleep, the whole deal. Though he was perfectly capable of looking after the small child it seemed Judith's mood had taken a turn for the worse as dusk approached, and after being perfectly behaved all day she was putting Daryl through the wringer. While Carrie got ready upstairs, going to the effort of putting on a clean shirt and brushing her hair, she could heard Judith downstairs screaming as though her life depended on it, but by now she knew not to take it to heart. Not only had she learnt to differentiate between the various cries and screams, when she came down to find Judith in her highchair she saw that she was safe and not being mistreated. The problem was that she wasn't getting her own way.

"Ah more!" she wailed dreadfully, her upper body slumped over on the tray of her highchair. When she briefly lifted her head she took no notice of the mashed potato stuck to the side of her face. "Dayhl…more!"

At the kitchen counter Daryl sipped at his beer, unconcerned by the tantrum. "Eat yah carrots, then you can have more."

Glaring at him, Judith drew a deep breath. "Mom!" she cried pitifully, losing her breath before taking another. "M-mom…I need more!"

"Oh Judy Pie," she gently soothed, encouraging her to sit up and then pushing her light brown hair off her face. "You have to eat your carrots _first_ _._ " Noticing she hadn't even gone to the effort of shedding genuine tears, she wiped the mashed potato from her face and used her fingers to scrape the carrots in two easy to manage groups. "Eat your carrots, and then you can have more peas after that."

"No," Judy wailed, shaking her head and looking up at her with those big, pleading eyes. "No more…peas now."

Not giving in, for tonight this tantrum wasn't her problem, she simply kissed Judith on the crown of her head and said goodbye. "Have a good night Daryl."

"Behave yourself, right?" he grunted at her. "Don't lemme find you in some episode o' Girls Gone Wild."

She laughed as she slipped her gun into her leg holster. "I'll keep my top on," she assured him. "Good night."

Stepping outside into the cool night she closed the door behind herself, thankfully drowning out the sound of Judith who was making a renewed effort towards her tantrum. Unconcerned to leave her in such a state, for Daryl knew how to handle her even if he was secretly as soft as her, Carrie pulled her coat further up her shoulders and set off through the darkness, glad she had remembered to bring her flashlight. She had stumbled the other night when she was walking home from Rosita's house, and though nothing had come of it she'd briefly been confronted with the horrible sensation of a fall. It seemed silly to be afraid of it, for she wasn't clumsy by nature…but what if she tumbled forward and couldn't break her fall with her hands?

Trying to shake the dark worry, for so many fears confronted her these days, she concentrated on where she was going and safely made her way through the streets of Alexandria. Night had come quickly this evening, and the only light visible was that which shone through the occasional gap in someone's drapes, the soft glow of solar powered garden lights near the lake's edge. In one short minute she had arrived at her destination, climbing the front steps with care and then knocking on the front door of Lana's townhouse.

"I brought cookies," she announced when Lana opened the door. Halfway through a greeting of her own Lana stopped short and looked at her suspiciously, and instantly Carrie knew what the issue was. "Yes, I cooked them myself, but they're fine."

Lana seemed to disagree, but she stepped back and allowed Carrie in regardless. "Mina's chipped tooth says otherwise.

"She didn't chip her tooth on my cookie, she chipped it on a mug," she argued playfully, knowing the teasing was mostly just jest.

"According to you," Lana muttered, quickly closing the door before collecting her own coat from the rack. "Good timing by the way, hot chocolate's ready. You carry your jaw breakers, I'll bring the drinks."

Looking into the living room for a moment, Carrie said hello to Vetor and Mitchell who were watching television, and then she made her way upstairs as Lana followed. "Mina's not joining us?" she asked, having noticed the tray only had two mugs of hot chocolate.

"No, she's being a little bitch today."

Used to the sometimes unkind way Lana talked, Carrie didn't question her choice of words. "Is everything okay between you two?"

"Yeah, it's fine," she assured her. "She's just being a bitch, that's all. I didn't even disinvite her, she did that all on her own."

Carrie resisted the inclination to ask anymore, knowing that sometimes it was better not to get Lana onto a tirade when she was unhappy with someone. "So just you and me, huh? That'll be nice," she mused as she reached the first floor and then headed for the second staircase. "We haven't caught up one on one for ages."

"Yeah, doing the shipping container inventory together wasn't exactly fun."

Agreeing with that, Carrie made her way up to the second floor and then stepped out onto the upper terrace, grateful that the air was still tonight. She held the door open and let Lana through, and in no time at all they settled down onto the couch and put their feet up on the coffee table. Kept warm by their coats, a comfortable silence fell as they spent a moment basking in the night sky, admiring the infinite beauty of the stars. These days the opportunity to admire such things came far more frequently, but she always took a moment to stop and admire it.

"Thanks," Carrie said when Lana passed her a mug of hot chocolate. "How was your day?"

Lana shrugged, taking her own mug and then settling back into the couch. Cold, she brought her legs up onto the seat and raised her mug to her lips. "The usual. Vetor and I have been getting ready for the run tomorrow, that's about it."

"You're only going out for the day, right?" she asked in concern, knowing that Glenn intended to join them. "Not overnight?"

"Just the day." She took a sip of her hot chocolate and then quickly sat up and reached towards her. "Whoops…I think you got mine there."

"Is yours better?" she asked suspiciously, playfully leaning back and protecting her mug.

"If by better, you mean spiked with peppermint schnapps, then yes."

Carrie sighed and looked into the mug, now for the first time noticing the sickly sweet smell of the schnapps. Trying not to think about how she'd miss drinking egg nog this year, she reluctantly swapped mugs and took the one intended for her. As if they'd been friends for years they settled into easy conversation and talked at length, comfortable with one another despite their many differences.

"So, two whole weeks without your hubby," Lana soon changed the subject, sounding as though she had been impatient to find a natural transition to it. "Have your rubbed yourself raw yet? Flicked the bean, so to speak?"

Carrie laughed, never failing to be both horrified and amused by Lana's explicit talk about sex. "Once or twice," she admitted with a grin. "I miss him."

"I bet he misses you too. How much do you reckon he's been jerkin' off?"

"Probably not as much as you think," she replied, having already given this subject some thought during the lonely hours she lay awake without a bedfellow. "He tends to do that in the shower, and they're pretty strict on the two minutes thing."

Lana scoffed. "A guy doesn't need a shower to rub one out, especially if he's hard up for it. All he really needs is his hand…or someone else's."

"Lana," she admonished her, not liking the latter part of what she had said.

"It's going to be weeks before he comes home. You don't think he's looking for another hand? You guys didn't…come to an arrangement?"

Carrie shook her head in exasperation. "No, we didn't come to an arrangement."

"You should give yourself an early Christmas present while you wait for him," she suggested now. "The Pantry has a secret stash of Bobs. You know…Bobs."

"You're suggesting I gift myself a _battery operated boyfriend_?"

"Yeah!" Lana teased, nudging her knee. "Go on, it would do you good."

Carrie bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile too much. "What makes you think I don't already have one?"

Simply rolling her eyes Lana sipped at her drink, but she frowned the longer she looked at Carrie. "What? You with a…no."

"I'm a newlywed and my husband has been gone for two weeks."

Lana gasped, her face lighting up in shocked amusement. "Wow!" she laughed. "Fark, I'm impressed. What one did you get?"

Carrie laughed too, but in horror. "I'm not telling you! I'd never be able to use it again."

"Does Rick know you've got it?" she asked eagerly, sitting up on the couch and turning to face her properly. "Will you show it to him, or would he get all weird and threatened by it?"

"It's tiny and not the least bit threatening."

"Just because it's not bigger than him, doesn't mean it's not threatening. A decent Bob can get you off in minutes, but him? Come on, have you ever had to fake it with your Bob?"

Carrie opted not to answer the latter. "I got it after he went to the Kingdom. I'll show it to him if he's lucky."

Lana grinned in amusement, pressing Carrie for more details until eventually giving up. Still laughing to herself, and perhaps wondering if she'd really be brave enough to show Rick how she had passed the time in his absence, she sipped at her delicious hot chocolate, disappointed that she was nearly finished. Inside her she could feel the baby moving, a little pressure growing in her lower right abdomen before it eased a moment later. She wondered if it was reacting to the sugary drink, or if it was just making its presence known now that she had been sitting still for a little while.

"Is Rick into any weird shit?" Lana asked, pestering her when she shook her head. "Come on, he's such an uptight g-"

"He's not uptight!" Carrie protested, surprised that she thought that of him.

"No, I mean…he's such a good guy, like old fashioned isn't he? He must be into some weird shit, all the nice guys are."

Carrie just laughed, unable to believe this was the subject they had turned to. "Honestly Lana, where do you get all these misconceptions about men and sex? Not all nice guys are into… _unusual_ things."

"So he's not into anything weird?" she asked in disappointment. "Not granny trannies, or making you shoot ping pong balls out of your-"

Giving a quick gasp Carrie brought her hand to her belly, her eyes widening as she leant forward and put her mug on the coffee table. "I think I just felt a kick," she smiled, looking up in delight.

Lana looked at her wide eyed. "T-the baby?"

She nodded. "Do you want to feel it?"

In an instant Lana's pushy enquiries about Rick's sexual tastes vanished, and she hastened to set aside her mug and come closer. Carrie lifted her jacket and shirt before directing Lana where to put her hands, but when she saw the excitement in her eyes she started to feel like a horrible friend. She had been lying when she said she felt the baby kicking, but she had wanted a quick and easy way to change the subject, and the baby usually served that purpose. There was a long silence as Lana waited, her excitement slowly beginning to wane.

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling even more bad now that Lana was disappointed. "Must have just been stretching out."

"It's cool," she shrugged, playing down her disappointment. Taking a long drink of her hot cocoa she settled back into her seat again, but now the comfortable sense of companionship seemed to have faded.

"Everything okay?" Carrie asked, noticing that she appeared to be in deep thought. "You look worried about something."

Shaking her head Lana smiled, but it very quickly became clear that something was bothering her. When she saw that Carrie was on to her she gave an answer. "Vetor's been talking about going to the Kingdom for a couple of weeks. You know, to check it out…make sure our people are okay."

Though she didn't dare say it, Carrie knew that Rick would never allow that. Aside from a general dislike of the man, he had very little faith in his integrity. Rick knew of Vetor's original plan to gain Alexandria's trust before stealing from them, and he would never risk that happening at the Kingdom. The relationship between the two groups was critical for them, for Carl's health, for the safe delivery of her baby, for Alexandria's future…he wouldn't risk that going up in smoke just for Vetor.

"If you're worried about missing him, you could go with him," she suggested, though she knew Rick wouldn't support that either.

Lana shrugged, not looking satisfied with that. "No. I don't want him there at all."

"Why not?" she enquired. She held her breath, for Lana was unaware of how much Rick knew about what Vetor planned, let alone that he had shared this with her.

"Seriously?" Lana questioned before laughing self-consciously. "I don't need the extra competition."

Carrie frowned, having not expected that. "Competition, from other women?"

"Well, he's not in to guys, so yeah. Other women."

"Lana, you shouldn't think like that," Carrie started, even though she had no basis to say so. It was common knowledge that Vetor and Lana were not exclusive, and that she was unhappy about it.

Lana just shrugged dismissively, looking as though she regretted bringing it up. She turned her body away just a fraction, no longer facing Carrie like she had been before. For a few minutes she thoughtfully looked up at the night sky, dwelling on Vetor while Carrie allowed her the silence.

"I don't know how you let Rick stay there," she finally said, her tone becoming judgmental. "Him and Michonne alone together, practically living in each other's pockets. I wouldn't let that shit fly."

Carrie chose her words carefully, knowing that Lana was just trying to project her own fears onto someone else. "Rick and Michonne aren't like that with each other."

"You think they don't have chemistry?" Lana said bluntly, trying to stir the pot. "They have chemistry together, I've seen it. They'd be good together."

"Of course they have chemistry. But that doesn't mean they can't be trusted, that Rick can't be friends with women."

"You didn't want him being friends with me," Lana reminded her, giving her a smug look. "Remember the party?"

Carrie held her tongue for a moment. "That was different, I-"

"How was it different? You didn't trust him with me, you-"

"I did trust him."

"Yeah right. You swooped in and-"

"Lana," she cut her off impatiently. "I didn't stop you flirting with him because I don't trust him. It was me…I was jealous. It was my issue."

There was an awkward pause, Lana appearing to realise she was about to overstep the line of their friendship. Nevertheless, she didn't have the tact to change the subject. "I know you were jealous, you told me ages ago."

"Then why are you bringing it up?"

Lana shrugged, that apparently being her answer to many things that night. "So you're not threatened by Michonne?"

"No, I'm not. Michonne has no interest in him, and he has no interest in being unfaithful."

"But how do you know?" she implored. "They could be doing anything, and you'd never know. They could be fucking right now. He could have her bent over a desk playing teacher."

Carrie took a deep breath. She didn't want to flaunt a happy relationship in front of someone struggling with theirs, but she would defend her husband's integrity without question. "I just know."

There was a brief pause, but still Lana wasn't done. "Did you think that about your first husband too?"

At this Carrie sighed, regretting that she had ever let her guard down and told Lana about what happened with Logan. That was girl talk for someone like Rosita or Maggie, someone she trusted not to throw it back in her face…she ought to have known not to share that with Lana.

"I do not want to talk about Logan," she said calmly, keeping her tone even. "And I'm not going to keep defending Rick to you. Can we change the subject, or do I need to go home?"

Getting the hint Lana made an apology, and despite her tenacity for stirring up shit and not knowing when to stop, her apology seemed genuine. Though they tried to brush it off, there was definitely a feeling of discomfort between the two of them, though Carrie kept trying to remember how unhappy Lana was, how insecure she must feel. She knew first hand how devastating it was to know that you someone you loved was being unfaithful, that they were betraying you. Logan had cheated on her twice, that she knew about anyway. Both times had been crushing for her, even though a part of her had always suspected that it was in his nature to be deceptive, to be unfaithful. The fact that they had been together almost a month before he broke up with his previous girlfriend should have been warning enough for her.

Despite understanding where she was coming from, Carrie did occasionally wonder if it was such a good idea that she and Lana be friends. Lana had this uncanny knack of making her worry about things that she normally wouldn't. Like, would Rick find her attractive after the baby was born? Would he look upon her stretch marks and soft belly with disgust? And now, was he going to cheat on her with Michonne? It didn't matter that she didn't harbour a genuine fear of this, it didn't matter that she trusted his fidelity to her without question…thanks to Lana she was actively thinking about it now, picturing it in her mind. Paranoid. Sometimes she thought it might be better if she and Lana weren't friends at all, if they still hated each other like they used to. She was an odd friend, definitely the opposite of those like Tara or Rosita.

"Should we have another?" Lana suggested, gesturing to their empty mugs. "We might need it to soften the cookies."

Knowing she was just teasing, for the cookies were delicious if she didn't say so herself, Carrie nodded. "Another one sounds amazing," she sighed, craving the sugar tonight. At the same time she breathed a mental sigh too, for it was a relief that the awkward silence was broken now.

"Allow me," Lana grinned, taking a handheld radio from her belt. She smirked as she raised it to her mouth and held down the button. "Vetor, do you copy? We need more hot chocolate up here. Over."

Carrie smiled, wondering if Vetor would wait on them hand and foot. Though Rick tried to keep his fussing minimal, he seemed generally happy to wait on her hand and foot these days. How long would that last after the baby was born? How soon until she had to get off the couch to make her own damn snack?

"Vetor," Lana said again, her smirk never wavering. "Come on, you owe me. Over."

There was a long silence before eventually he answered, sounding rather put out. "Get it yourself," he said curtly, his tone not even softened by his lovely accent. "I am not your slave."

Despite his refusal Lana smiled and then set the radio down onto the coffee table. "He'll bring it," she assured her without concern. "He owes me, and he knows it."

Trusting her, for Rick too enjoyed the pretence of refusal when she asked him to wait on her, Carrie dared to hope for something extra. "Do you think he'll bring marshmallows?"

Lana hastily reached for the radio again. "Carrie wants marshmallows, and I'll need some peppermint schnapps in mine. At least a fifty-fifty ratio. Over." Seeing the look she was getting from Carrie, Lana rolled her eyes. "Please."

"You'll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar."

Lana laughed shortly as she set the radio down and helped herself to a cookie, making sure to pass one to Carrie too. "Sometimes I think he is a fly…"

"And other times?"

She shrugged yet again, her go-to response tonight. The awkward silence almost resumed again, their discussion of hot chocolate being far too brief to really get them going again. Not for the first time she wished that there was a least one other person with them, that Tara and Rosita weren't both so sick they had to be quarantined at home. Maybe she shouldn't have so eagerly accepted the second hot cocoa, though if she really wanted to get out of there she could just fake sick. Being pregnant meant she was carrying a ready made excuse to get out of just about anything, and according to Maggie and Glenn it worked perfectly after the birth too. Thankfully Vetor didn't take too long with their hot drinks, and a few short minutes later they heard his footsteps on the stairs behind them, his silhouette appearing on the walls. For all their faults Lana knew him well, and had known he would come through for them despite his refusal.

"Thank you," Lana said sweetly, practically fluttering her eye lashes at him. She seemed to laugh at herself after that, to which Vetor just shook his head in exasperation.

He passed Carrie her drink first, brushing aside her words of gratitude. "Only because you said please," he said sternly, setting a tray down onto the coffee table.

"Carrie made me say that," Lana giggled, eagerly reaching for her drink.

"Ah, well in that case," he playfully scolded her. Taking a step back so that she couldn't reach him he took a large sip of her drink, though his stern glare faded into a twist of disgust at the taste. "Eugh…no," he cringed as he swiftly passed it to her.

"How come Carrie gets three marshmallows and I only get one?" Lana pouted. Carrie giggled, unable not to be amused by Lana's cheery and affectionate demeanour. She must have had a couple of drinks before her arrival that evening, for she normally tolerated liquor a little better.

"Because you take care of pregnant ladies, else they complain," he explained. As if to support his statement he picked up the plate of cookies and offered the last one to Carrie, which she gladly accepted. He smiled at her before collecting the empty plate and mugs onto the tray, but as he started to leave he slowed and looked at them critically. "I'll get you ladies a blanket. You'll catch your death out here."

"Thank you, Sexy Legs!" Lana loudly crooned as he left, her voice ringing out across Alexandria.

Carrie had never thought highly of Vetor, having agreed with Rick's perception that Lana would be better off without him, but he seemed to be friendly enough when it suited him. "He's very sweet," she commented. _Cute too._ She was allowed to notice.

"Mmmm," Lana nodded in agreement, taking a long sip of her hot chocolate. "He is…his hair is so dreamy." She trailed off into a shameless giggle. "You just like him because he gave you extra marshmallows."

"Well, I am growing a human being here," she reminded her. "What's the last thing you grew?"

"My tits, probably. Not a spine, that's for sure."

Carrie grinned, looking down at herself before readjusting the uncomfortable bra she wore. "On the supply run tomorrow, could you look for some new bras for me?"

Lana nodded, and without shame she pulled back Carrie's coat and took a look at her chest. "Can't contain 'em, huh? What size do you want?"

"Nothing smaller than a C cup. And no underwire either, please. That's just a cruel joke these days."

"They're looking spectacular, I'll give you that. Oh," Lana moaned dramatically. "I bet Rick just wants to stick his face between them…God, even I want to!"

When she realised what Lana had said she burst into horrified laughter, feeling her entire body quaking in amusement. Her laughter was infectious, and soon they were both doubled over, unable to stop. Lana was pulling back the front of her own shirt and looking down at her cleavage, reaching over to do the same to Carrie's until her hand was batted away.

"I love hanging out with Princess Drinksalot," she laughed when she managed to draw enough breath.

Lana was taking some deep breaths, still trying to contain herself. "All the boys love Princess Drinksalot!" she cheered loudly, trailing off into a fit of giggles. There were tears of laughter in her eyes when she turned back to Carrie, and she was still laughing as she wiped them with the sleeve of her coat. "Spencer always has wine in the fridge when I come over. The good stuff too…not your average goon sack."

"Are you still seeing him?" she asked curiously, her laughter sobering now. Conscious that Vetor could return at any minute she made a point of keeping her voice low.

Lana shook her head, giving an uncharacteristically shy smile. "Sort of…Not really."

"It wasn't anything serious?"

"Fuck no," Lana laughed. "He's a good lay, but that's about all. Have you ever tried holding a conversation with Spencer? Don't bother. He's not that interesting." Laughing again, Lana took a long drink from her mug and sank back into the couch, and when she continued she made no effort to keep her voice down. "Spencer gave me a good time, if you know what I mean. But you're right," she admitted, giving Carrie a knowing smile. "Sleeping with him was never going to make Vetor fall into my arms."

Glad to hear this, Carrie let out a slow breath. "I'm glad you can see that now. Are thi-"

"I mean what the fuck was I thinking?" she questioned to herself, looking up at the night sky and asking it too. "Vetor was never going to think Spencer was a threat. I bombed out there, but I've upped my game."

Carrie bit her tongue, not knowing what to say to this. She ought to put a stop to the conversation, Lana's escalating behaviour and loose tongue telling her it was time to call it a night, but she had to ask one more question. "What do you mean you've upped your game?"

Lana looked at her as if the answer was obvious. She grinned now, giggling under her breath as she slurped the melted marshmallow into her mouth. "I upped my game," she said simply. "I fucked someone who was more on Vetor's level…someone he'd see as a threat."

Carrie took a deep breath, concerned about what Lana was doing. "You know how I feel about sex these days," she began gently, not wanting to come across as judgemental. "Consenting adults should have as much sex as they can get. But sleeping around to make Vetor jealous is not going to make him want to be with you."

Looking completely unconcerned, Lana just finished the rest of her hot chocolate with one gulp. When she lowered her mug and licked her lips she seemed satisfied. "I know what I'm doing…I got the right one this time."

"Lana," she started to say, but she trailed off when she heard footsteps on the staircase. Vetor was bringing them a blanket, concerned about their comfort while they sat on a roof terrace in early December. But while she fell silent Lana did not, and the smug expression on her face told Carrie that she saw the opportunity. Hell, maybe she had planned for this. As the door opened and Vetor's shadow was cast over them, Lana spoke.

"I fucked Daryl."

As this declaration hit home Carrie physically jolted, so taken aback that she simply gaped at Lana. There was no mistaking what she had said. _I fucked Daryl_. Speechless, Carrie sat there and endured the awkward silence, relieved when Vetor finally came forward and did something. He put the blanket across the back of the couch and tried to leave, but Lana wasn't done yet.

"He didn't quite know what the hell was going on the first time," she laughed, looking at Carrie as she went through the motions of spreading out the blanket. "But he caught on pretty quick. He knew what to do with me."

Carrie knew not to say anything, and she sat there seething and looking at her lap. All three of them were painfully aware of what had just transpired and why, that Lana had done that intentionally. The heavy silence was drawn out for longer than any of them would have liked, Carrie feeling the way her heart pounded inside of her chest. She thought about Daryl, horrified that it was him Lana had now drawn into her sick game…he knew what was going on between Lana and Vetor, he had to know that he could be getting himself into a shit fight.

Finally there came the sound of shuffling feet, Vetor crossing the small terrace in silence. He left without a word, and when she heard the door closing she breathed out slowly, setting her half finished hot chocolate onto the coffee table. Nevertheless she didn't relax, and instead made a point of turning away from Lana. The heavy silence continued as she looked down at her lap, watching the way her fingers turned pink as she clenched them in her lap.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" she quietly asked, holding her anger at bay for now.

It took a moment before Lana replied lowly. "There's no point in fucking him if Vetor doesn't know."

"So is it true?" she demanded, looking up at her now. "You had sex with Daryl?"

Lana looked at her incredulously, and then she seemed to square her shoulders for a fight. "What? Do you think Daryl's not good enough for me?" she challenged.

"No. I think you're not good enough for him," she replied bluntly, not caring if she sounded cruel. She looked away and took a deep breath, holding it and then releasing the air slowly. "Don't drag him into your mind games with Vetor. Don't get him involved."

To her immense surprise Lana actually seemed hurt now, a flash of vulnerability appearing in her features before she quickly fired back, defending herself. "That's a bit rich," she spluttered defensively. "You just said people should get as much sex as they can."

"Not you and Daryl."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Just leave him out of this," she shouted at her, not caring who heard them. She got to her feet and took a few steps away, pacing a little as she tried to keep her temper in check. Lana could be reasoned with…surely she could be reasoned with. "You're playing games Lana, and you could get more than yourself hurt."

It seemed to fall on deaf ears, for Lana just gave a heavy sigh and stretched her legs out on the couch, setting her feet onto the spot Carrie had just vacated. "Daryl's a big boy. He's not going to get his heart broken."

Carrie grit her teeth, wishing she knew how to make her understand. She wasn't concerned about Daryl's heart, doubtful that sleeping with Lana necessarily required an emotional connection for him…but he was going to get caught in her twisted scheme to make Vetor jealous. This could go so horribly wrong, and while she'd been less concerned by her sleeping with Spencer, Daryl on the other hand was different. He was her family…that made it different.

"This is the only time I'm going to tell you this," she said quietly, coming a little closer and holding her gaze. "You are to leave my family out of your mess. Do you understand? Stay away from them."

Lana nodded without hesitation. "Alright. I understand."

It was clear she didn't, that she was just placating her. "Seriously, Lana," she sighed, trying to empathise. "What are you thinking? You going to go after Glenn next? Abraham?"

"Already tried Abe," she said with an uncaring shrug. "Struck out."

"Y-you…" she started before trailing off incredulously. She swore under her breath, unable to believe she hadn't seen this coming, that she hadn't seen any of it coming. For weeks now she had known what Lana was doing in her attempt to make Vetor commit to her, that she was Spencer to make him jealous. Why hadn't she realised that eventually she would move on from Spencer, find someone more incendiary like Abraham or Daryl? "Abraham and Rosita have been together almost two years now. Why would you even bother with him?"

"I've heard great things about that magical dick, why wouldn't I want to try it out?" she protested. "I'm a free woman."

"Well Abraham's not a free man. Leave him alone."

"Don't worry your pretty little head," Lana said condescendingly. "He wasn't interested in me."

"Yeah, funny that."

Lana quirked an eyebrow, looking rather smug with herself. "Please…his dick wasn't interested in me, but it sure isn't interested in Rosita either. There's another woman."

Her hand on the door knob, Carrie gave a heavy sigh. "Stop it, Lana," she pleaded, at her wits end already.

"Seriously, I give it a month and he's leaving her for someone else."

"Stop it!" she shouted again, losing her temper. "Stop stirring up shit with other people because you're unhappy. Leave Daryl alone, I mean it."

To her incredulity, Lana laughed in her face. She sat up straighter and faced Carrie over the back of the couch, staring her down. "Leave Daryl alone, or what?"

Carrie paused, considering this question. In that moment she felt a change coming over her, a sense of righteousness and determination she didn't often feel. Lana was pulling a member of her family into a web of drama, and she couldn't let it happen. "You're a shit magnet, Lana. You're creating drama, and someone is going to get hurt." Releasing the door handle she walked back across the terrace and stood over her, and it didn't take much to show that she was serious. She looked down and held her gaze, refusing to blink. "I will not let that person be Daryl."

Slowly Lana realised the seriousness of what Carrie was saying, her features falling incrementally as she looked up at her in surprise, regretting what she had said. She seemed hurt now, upset that this was how things was turning out.

"Are you threatening me?" Lana quietly asked, her voice one of disbelief and shock.

Having Lana's rapt attention, there was no need to raise her voice. "You're fucking right I am."

Lana warily looked up at her, unable to believe how quickly this had escalated out of her control, how seamlessly Carrie had gone from being her friend to threatening her. "Carrie, I…I'm sorry."

Only half believing her, Carrie turned away and began to leave, but she stopped in the threshold and looked back at her. "It's easy to forget that you're only twenty three," she said gently, trying to cut her some slack. "You've still got some growing up to do…just don't alienate the people who you're going to need."

Without another word she departed, closing the door behind her before slowly descending the stairs. She couldn't yet breathe a sigh of relief, for this was't the type of argument that could be fought and then forgotten about. This one was going to have repercussions beyond her control. Barely had she reached the second staircase when she heard the door upstairs open and close, the sound of heavy footsteps telling her that Lana was now in hot pursuit. Nevertheless Carrie continued on, her hand skimming the railing as she made her way downstairs to the first floor, wanting only to go home. But Lana was having none of it, and before Carrie could even reach the door she shoved past her and stepped in the way. There was a moment of tension now, Carrie waiting expectantly for her to say her piece…but she didn't. Instead she simply stood there, staring at her as she tried to summon words.

"I'm leaving," she said impatiently, keeping her tone calm. "Get out of my way. Now."

Her upper lip curling into a snarl, Lana took a step closer, trying to intimidate her. "You're telling me to grow up?" she questioned, her voice becoming a high pitched snarl when she continued. "Who the _fuck_ do you think you are, bitch?"

Even as Lana came right up to her, repeating her question and screaming in her face, Carrie stood her ground. She wasn't afraid of her, particularly given her behaviour had drawn attention from Vetor and Mitchell. They had been sitting in the living room adjacent to the front hall, and from the corner of her eye Carrie saw them getting to their feet, looking at them cautiously.

"Stop now, before you make it worse," she said quietly, imploring her to see reason.

Lana had already escalated to the point of hysteria, her eyes wide and accusing, her hands clenched into fists. "Don't tell me what to do!" she screamed at her, the volume echoing in the small entrance hall. "I don't need you! You're nothing to me, you-"

"Lana, stop!"

"What the fuck have you ever done?" she demanded, ignoring Vetor who was also imploring her to stop. "You got yourself knocked up by the first man willing to touch you, so he'd have to take care of you," she snarled. "But while you're playing house with your _perfect_ fucking family and your _perfect_ fucking life, you're judging me?"

Carrie jolted when she heard the sound of a loud bang, certain she had even felt it within her body, and she found herself shaking as she looked at Vetor. He had slammed his fist down on a hall table, infuriated and pushed to the brink by what Lana had done.

"Stop this!" he roared, jabbing a finger in her direction. "Won't you hear me for once? Stop this!"

The silence was startling now, the stillness of the scene such a stark contrast to the raging emotions that dominated a split second ago. Her heart pounding in her throat, Carrie stood stock still and looked at Lana, and despite everything that had just transpired she felt a surge of pity for her. She was looking at Vetor in desperation, her eyes brimming with tears that Carrie hadn't seen since the day she thought he was dead. They spilled down her cheeks now, her lower lips trembling as she struggled to speak.

"When is it going to be enough?" she managed to ask. A poorly stifled sob slipped from her throat before she continued. "What else do I have to do? Just tell me…"

"Don't start this now," he warned her. He said something else in Portuguese, his tone softening as he stepped closer to Lana, trying to calm her.

Lana replied in equally fluent Portuguese, more tears spilling from her eyes. She stopped and then drew in a great shuddering breath, trying and failing to collect herself. "You don't know what I've done," she moaned, turning back to Carrie and looking her in the eye. "You don't know what I've had to do for him. For all these ungrateful shit stains!" she suddenly screamed, her voice catching in the back of her throat. "You don't know any of it!"

Carrie thought long and hard before speaking, for although she knew what she wanted to say, it wasn't something she felt she could ever trust Lana with. She wanted to stand her ground, to tell Lan that she did know what it was to do things you regret in order to help your people, but she couldn't. The story of what had happened to her before Rick's group was too much to even talk to Rick about, it had been hard enough talking to Denise about it. She would never be able to trust Lana with that information.

A part of her wanted to stay there, to offer comfort and support for everything she was going through, but tonight she needed to think about her own family first. "I'm going home," she said lowly, looking Lana in the eye. "Let me past."

To her relief Lana did so without any further argument, simply looking down at the ground as she stepped aside. When she left she rejected Mitchell's offer to walk her home, taking her flashlight from where she had left it at the front door and then stepping out into the cool night. As she walked home she didn't allow herself to look back, taking a couple of deep breaths to calm herself. She felt angrier than upset, and it was a relief to know that she wasn't going to dissolve into tears like occasionally happened these days. Each of her heavy footsteps on the pavement was a relief, like the magnitude of what was happening was being extracted from her like venom from a bite.

Her only stop on the way home was at Rosita and Abraham's house where she loudly knocked on the front door. Inside she could hear the television playing, and it was a few moments before Abraham opened the door.

"Welcome to the House of Horrors. Phlegm and snot are our specialities tonight," he said, this being his greeting to her. "Sasha and 'Sita both have it, and they're a terrifying sight."

He stepped back to allow her inside, but she shook her head. "You need to check on Lana. Make sure she's okay."

Without another word she turned on her heel and crossed the porch, resuming her short journey home to the other side of Alexandria. There was no need for her to clarify what her request really meant, that it wasn't necessary for Abraham to go over there and knock on the front door. He was the one who spent time monitoring the surveillance bugs planted inside Lana's home, going to that point of surveillance would be his first step. Reassured that if the fight between Lana and Vetor escalated that someone would be aware, Carrie extended her journey home by a few minutes, grateful that it didn't take her too long to settle down again. All she wanted to do right now was sink down into her bed and read a book, maybe finish watching The Notebook and have a good cry…these days things always felt better after a good cry.

When she opened the front door and stepped inside the revelled in the feeling of coming home, how good it felt to return to her sanctuary. Hearing the sound of the Teletubbies on the television Carrie just smiled to herself as she removed her coat and hung it by the door, removing her gun holster and securing it into the safe where it was stored. The house was clean when she looked around, the kitchen tidy and Judith's high chair wiped down and folded away in the corner. The books and toys were all picked up, not a thing was out of place except the young toddler who sat on the couch, curled up against Daryl's side.

"We're just watching this last one," he said sheepishly, unable to hide the fact he had allowed Judith to stay up past her bed time. "It's nearly over."

"Ah huh," she teased, trudging into the living room and slumping down beside him. She looked over at Judith, glad to note that she was sucking her thumb and her eyelids were drooping. "She knows how to work you."

"Nuh," he shook his head in denial. "She ate all her carrots, just like I told her."

It was tempting to tease a little more, but Carrie held her tongue and turned to the television, waiting for the episode to finish. From the corner of her eye she watched Daryl, still taken aback by the revelation that he and Lana had slept together. It had come as a shock to her, for until Carol took up with Tobin she had always thought she and Daryl had been slowly working up to something. Even since then she honestly hadn't given much thought to Daryl's private life, though it was naive to presume he didn't have one. Most days he was out doing his own thing, and had recently only made a particular effort to be home more often because Rick and Carl weren't around. How long had things been going on with Lana? Who had initiated it? What was their arrangement? Did he care for her? Did he love her?

"Everythin' alright?" he asked when the episode finished, passing Judith over to her. "Girl's night out you normally ain't home 'till after nine."

Carrie smiled and nodded to reassure him. As she got to her feet she settled Judith against her shoulder, glad when she snuggled into her neck and closed her eyes. "Everything was fine," she lied. Daryl's private life was none of her business…concerned or not, she had no right to intrude. "Lana just wanted an early night before the supply run tomorrow. I think I might have one too."

Satisfied with her answer, Daryl just nodded and then turned the television off. "About the run t'morrow," he started, catching her as she headed for the stairs. "Imma go with 'em."

"On the supply run?" she frowned. She had thought there was an unspoken understanding, that even though she didn't necessarily need him around to cope with Judith alone, he had been sticking around for that reason.

"Tara and Rosita are both out sick," he explained, not sounding overly concerned about the change of plans. "And Glenn's goin'…shouldn't be just him trying to manage Spencer, yah know."

It was with reluctance that Carrie agreed. Tomorrow would only be Spencer's third supply run, and with Rosita and Tara both out she knew that Glenn would want to be sticking close to him, helping him. That in itself made Glenn more vulnerable, putting his own life at greater risk so that he could teach someone. Having Daryl accompanying him was the right thing to do, for even though they didn't like to say it out loud, Glenn's life was more important than Spencer's. Glenn had a wife and a baby waiting for him at home, a baby who deserved to grow up knowing his father.

"I understand," Carrie said softly. With a heavy heart she returned to Daryl's side and kissed him on the cheek, a familial gesture that he tolerated from only a few. "Thanks for watching Judy tonight."

Leaving things at that, Carrie went upstairs and gently laid Judith down into her bed. Making sure that her bedroom was warm and cosy, she slipped some socks onto her feet to keep them warm and then tucked her in, hoping that she would sleep through the night undisturbed. She was fast asleep when Carrie kissed her forehead and then slipped out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar and then double checking the safety guard at the mouth of the stairs, something she checked meticulously every night.

Glad that the evening was over, she went to her bedroom and slipped into a loose shirt that counted as pyjama's, trying to ignore how large and expansive the king size bed looked without Rick there to fill half of it. Beginning to feel rather down in the dumps she went about her nightly routine, washing her face and then brushing her teeth. Forlornly she looked at the empty toothbrush holder, embarrassed to think that she missed seeing Rick's toothbrush there. When she put hers back it looked very lonely, and though it felt silly she removed it again. This time she set it onto the edge of the sink, the place where Rick tended to leave his when he was too lazy or rushed. Normally it drove her crazy, but tonight it warmed her heart to see a toothbrush there, and she looked at it affectionately while rubbing lotion into the swell of her belly. Rick sometimes did this for her in the evenings, standing behind her with his arms around her waist, rubbing the lotion in and feeling their baby inside her. Usually it started with him hoping for something a little more, the kiss to the side of her neck and his hips pressed against her ass a signal that he was in the mood. One night she had slipped her underwear down her legs and allowed him to have her then and there, braced against the bathroom counter while they looked at one another in the mirror.

When she returned to the bedroom, her heart heavy with longing while she wondered if she might make good use of the small device hidden in the back of her sock drawer, she sighed in annoyance to see her bedfellow. Judith lay on Rick's side of the bed, and when she saw Carrie come in she promptly clenched her eyes shut and went still, perhaps hoping that she wouldn't be seen. Knowing that she was at fault for encouraging this, that Rick had always been consistent and strong when it came to returning Judith to her bed in the middle of the night, Carrie had to let it slide. Instead of returning her daughter to her own bed, she went around and moved aside the excess bedding, trying to ignore the small smile that was playing on Judith's face.

"Judy," Carrie began as she lay down beside her. Reaching over she gently roused her daughter, knowing she was still just pretending. She opened her eyes and innocently looked up at her. "You know when Daddy comes home, you have to sleep in your bed. You know that, right?"

Judith frowned, but it quickly turned into a smile. "Yeah."

"When Daddy's home, you stay in your bed all night. Got it?"

"Yeah."

In spite of her apparent agreement, Carrie knew not to bank on it. "You're just going to do whatever you like, aren't you."

This time Judith giggled, and then she turned away and settled onto her other side, clutching her duck under one arm while she resumed sucking on her thumb. Pretty much giving up on it, Carrie reached for the remote control on her nightstand and turned on the television. In the days that followed Carl's gunshot he had been recovering in the main bedroom, for at the time he and Rick had still been sharing. He'd been thrilled when Rick brought in a television for him to have, a television that had somehow managed to remain when Carrie moved in despite her disapproval of it.

Last night she had fallen asleep watching television, and with only Judith for company she had every intention of doing the exact same thing again tonight.

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A/N I hope you enjoyed that little bit of dra-ma! I can only promise more and more to come! Thanks readers, please leave a review!


	26. Chapter 26

A/N I apologise in advance if Google Translate and I have done a disservice to the beauty and intricacies of the Portuguese language! Hope you enjoy!

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Sunday, December 7

One way or another, Lana got exactly what she wanted…sort of.

The next morning she had awoken with a man in her bed, but finally the one she waned to see there. It was Vetor who lay beside her, his dark hair sprawled out on her pillow while his hand rested on her arse, exactly where he liked it. After everything that happened they had reconciled last night…they had reconciled three times all together, and finally Lana was confident that everything was going to be okay between them. A change had come over the both of them, and she knew that it was time for things to finally be different.

A great deal had come out last night, though she could have said more had Carrie not left when she did. In hindsight Lana worried that she would have told her everything, that she flirted with Rick only because Vetor told her to sleep with him, that it wouldn't be the first time she had slept with another man to bolster Vetor's agenda. She would have told Carrie that Vetor was the only reason they had to leave their last place of safety, that them being caught together had spelled the end of what one day could have been a comfortable life. He had ruined that place for their group, forcing them to flee without a moment's notice and leave behind one of their own people to pick up the pieces.

It wouldn't have mattered if she had told Carrie any of that. She would never understand.

But things were going to be different now. Finally Vetor understood, didn't he? He seemed to understand, he had to know Lana had reached her breaking point. She hadn't slept with Daryl because she liked him or because he was a good lay, even though both of those things were true. She hadn't slept with Spencer for those reasons either, though her attempt on Abraham was purely because she'd heard gossip about what his dick could do to a woman. No, she slept with the others because she wanted Vetor to understand, to see that she had options other than him. It was supposed to make him jealous, pure and simple. Hell, it worked on her when he slept around with other woman. Problem was she had underestimated exactly who it would take to fire up that spark of jealousy.

But finally it had happened, finally he had seen reason. The fight that ensued last night had been huge, perhaps the worst they'd ever had. They had yelled, called one another names, thrown things…she had hit him more than once. Finally he seemed to come around, and the third time she tried to hit him he had kissed her, the touch of his lips against hers dispelling her rage in an instant. She wasn't ashamed to admit she had melted, that the relief of finally having him back made her weak at the knees. After so long she had what she wanted which was Vetor back in her bed…in only _her_ bed. In seconds they went from their worst fight to slowly making love, him whispering that he loved her, that he meant it this time. After so long surely he had to mean it.

After that, everything had been okay, an enormous weight vacating itself from her shoulders. They had laid there naked in her bed, his hands tracing the bright pink scars on her right hip and thigh from her motorbike accident two months ago. After revelling in the joy of their long awaited reunion they couldn't keep their hands off each other, innocent touches quickly escalating into the passion she had come to expect from him. Vetor had been her first love, he had taught her almost everything she knew about what made sex good, and she returned his passion with equal vigour.

Now she was basking in the after glow, the alarm clock not set to go off for another twenty minutes. As she lay there enjoying the weight of his hand on her arse she allowed her mind to wander a little, to reflect on some of the poorer choices she had made recently. In hindsight she did feel bad for getting Daryl involved in her drama, that she risked him getting caught up in it. No doubt Carrie had confronted him about it the moment she got home. She had probably torn him a new arsehole for fucking one of her friends, probably told him to keep his dick in his pants from now on. But Lana hadn't been able to chose anyone else. If she couldn't get Rick or Abraham into bed with her, Daryl was the only other man in Alexandria that stood any chance of infuriating Vetor. Everyone else he looked down upon, not seeing them as his equal, as a threat. Daryl on the other hand…in all appearances he was stronger, more skilled, more well respected than Vetor. It had been sleeping with Daryl that pushed Vetor over the line, she knew that for sure. He had growled his disapproval into her ear when he thrust into her last night, warning her not to sleep with him again, that he was the only man for her from now on. So while she did feel bad for getting Daryl involved, she didn't completely regret her choice.

Confident that Vetor was still sleeping, Lana allowed herself a small smile as she thought about Daryl. She had taken a liking to him months ago, admiring his dry sense of humour and entranced by his aloof and uncaring nature…but most of all she liked how easy it was to get his attention. It wasn't until the other week when they were driving to the Kingdom that she really started thinking about him, having enjoyed the way he accused her of cheating at cards, sore that he had lost to her three times. Then the next day they had driven together back to the Kingdom, bringing supplies for the people that were going to be staying long term. Alone together in the car she had been tempted to reach over, to put her hand on his leg just to gauge his reaction. He was the perfect man to spark jealousy from Vetor, and it helped that she actually liked him too. Ultimately she kept her hands to herself for that car ride, at that stage feeling a little too uncertain to make a move so suddenly. Instead she had incited an argument over who got to ride shot gun on the way home, enjoying the way he fired up at her.

When it eventually happened, she hadn't expected to enjoy sex with him as much as she did. She had misjudged hm, having thought he'd be a little more shy and reserved the way he seemed to be with his clothes on. But there was something primal about sex that seemed to bring about a different side of men, and that was particularly true for Daryl. Once he got over the shock of what was happening, that a beautiful woman such as herself was coming onto him for sex, he had been great. Even two weeks later she still laughed as she played out the scene in her mind, remembering the way she had practically cornered him in the living room of his house. Carrie and Judith were both out, and he had been relaxing at home alone…but not for long.

He had let her inside without hesitation, for after all she had become a frequent presence in this home thanks to her friendship with Carrie. For a moment there he had looked uncomfortable, surprised she was making such an effort to engage him in small talk when it was Carrie she was supposedly waiting for, and it was then she acted. She started gently at first, pressing her lips against his and then gauging his immediate reaction. It wasn't what she had been hoping he would do, for he seemed to have frozen in surprise, not knowing what to do with her unexpected advance. It was then she stepped up her game, gently bringing her hands to his chest as she kissed him harder, encouraging him to open his mouth and kiss her back. His breath tasted like tobacco, a taste that encouraged her to slip her tongue between his lips to get a little more, to really leave him breathless. It took some encouragement for him to kiss her back, some coaxing for him to put his hands onto her body, but soon enough he responded to her.

Slowing the kiss, she sensually swiped her tongue across his before pulling away just a little, lingering close before leaning back and looking at him properly. She smiled at him, endeared by the way he stared at her with those eyes hidden behind wisps of hair. With a kind smile she reached up with one hand and pushed the hair out of his face, taking a proper look at him. His eyes were wary and mistrustful, perhaps wondering if this was a cruel trick, if she was going to leave him hanging or worse, ridicule him for showing a glimmer of hope.

"Daryl Dixon," she began lowly, knowing exactly what to say and how to say it. As she spoke she lowered one hand to the front of his jeans, pleased to find that her efforts had caused a reaction from him. Her touch made his eyes flutter, his breath catching in his throat. "Don't tell me I'm going to have to pop your cherry."

"Wha' the fuck…" he breathed, blinking rapidly when she swiftly opened the button on his jeans. "…the fuck you doin'?"

She grinned, leaning forward and taking his lower lip between her teeth. She sucked it into her mouth for a moment, laving it with her tongue before releasing it with a pop. "You just said it. Key word, _fuck_."

His eyes widened, perhaps unable to believe that this was happening. For a moment he faltered, Lana wondering if this was perhaps all a non starter, but he quickly got his shit together. He moved his hands from where she had placed them on her waist down to her arse, squeezing it hard as his eyes darkened. With a heavy breath he brought his lips to the top of her jaw, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. "You serious, girl?"

"As serious as a heart attack."

He seemed to shake his head at this, but it wasn't a rejection. In an instant he lowered his lips to her neck and started kissing her, his fingertips digging into her arse as he held her flush against him, grinding his hips against hers. Going with the flow she threaded her fingers into his long hair and pushed him firmer against her neck, encouraging him to bite her just a little, wanting him to leave a mark Vetor would see. He got the hint quickly enough and he promptly dragged his teeth over her skin, sucking on it to bring the blood to the surface as a bruise, and then he brought his lips to hers. Mimicking what she did earlier he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, but he nipped at it with his teeth, the brief pain catching her by surprise.

"Sure yah want this, girl?" he questioned, though he didn't stop her hands delving into the front of his jeans. "You might be gettin' more than you can handle."

Unsure if she was referring to himself, or to the drama he no doubt knew she was stirring with Vetor, Lana continued as she was. It was an amusing surprise to find he went commando, though it proved to be a convenience when she wrapped her hand around his length and started stroking him, drawing a rough grunt of approval from his throat. Having garnered the right amount of interest to ensure he didn't wouldn't walk away from this, she took her hand from his jeans and swiftly removed her shirt.

"You don't want this?" She stepped back and moved his hands from her arse up to her ribs instead, and when she removed her bra her breasts fell into his hands exactly as she had planned. There was no missing the way he openly stared at them, the unconscious way he licked his lips before tearing his eyes away. "You don't want this, just say so."

It was his body that gave him away, the subtle way his hands squeezed her breasts. "I ain't bringin' you flowers," he warned. "I ain't doin' none of that."

Lana just smirked, confident she could change his mind. "We'll see about that. Now take your pants off."

Things moved quickly from there, and in no time she was rolling on the condom she had brought with her before moving to the dining room table. Her hips hurt as she leant over the tabletop, and she could have used a little more warming up than what they had managed, but that didn't matter. This first screw was for him, to blow the top of his head off and make sure he came back, and after that he definitely came back for more. The next day they met up in the church where he laid her out on Gabriel's desk and pulled her legs over his shoulders, Jesus' portrait looking down on them in disapproval. They met up in all the usual spots people fooled around in these days, the stables, the greenhouse, the RV…it was over a week before they made it into an actual bed, which much to her surprise was his own. He had refused all suggestions that he come to her house, likely suspecting her agenda was to flaunt their fling in front of Vetor…it seemed Daryl was smarter than she gave him credit for.

Being invited into Daryl Dixon's bedroom had been a pleasant surprise, for in all the months she had known him and been friends with Carrie, she had never seen his attic bedroom. He was intensely private by nature, he hardly even undressed when they fooled around, but on this particular day the greenhouse was occupied by gardeners and it was raining. With Carrie and the baby out for the day, his bed was their best option. It had been nice up there, his bed comfortable and his space a private oasis away from the chaos of baby toys and family life downstairs. There was a couch, television and mini fridge…they could have stayed there all day had Carrie not been due home later that afternoon.

That had been the day she saw the scars on his back, the mottled lines that told a tale of suffering, a tale he apparently didn't want to share. It had been the first time she'd actually seen him completely naked, but it wasn't until the sex was over and he sat up to light a cigarette that she had seen the scars. She had been looking for his tattoo, the faded ink having captured her interest when she caught a glimpse of it earlier, but now she was seeing a whole lot more than they both bargained for. He lit the cigarette and tried to pass it to her for a draw, but when he realised what she was looking at he seemed embarrassed, then skittish when she reached out to touch them. He had batted her hand away and passed her the cigarette, and after reaching over to get an ash tray he laid down on his back to hide his past from her. She didn't ask about them…they both knew she wasn't there to bond and share stories.

She had left soon after finishing the shared cigarette, she being a woman who knew when to leave after sex. So while he lit another cigarette and stretched out on his bed, Lana redressed and prepared to go, making sure to give him a kiss goodbye so that she left on good terms, so that he knew it was alright to come looking for more. But she didn't leave…not really anyway. She went downstairs and fumbled with the safety gate that prevented Judith going up the stairs, and in that brief moment of wrestling with the mechanism she looked up at the double doors of the main bedroom.

Tempted, and not giving much prudence to appropriate boundaries, Lana simply stepped over the safety gate and then wandered into the threshold of the master bedroom. The doors were wide open, welcoming her inside, encouraging her. She glanced upstairs and listened for any sign that Daryl was getting up, that he was moving around and redressing. Confident that he wasn't, Lana crept inside the bedroom and looked around, shamelessly snooping on what was probably her closest friend.

Carrie and Rick's bedroom was neat and clean, tastefully decorated just like every other bedroom and house in Alexandria. The kingsize bed was well proportioned in the generously sized bedroom, flanked on either side by the windows framed with nice drapes. Their family wedding picture was framed on their bureau, and a photograph of just the two of them on Carrie's nightstand, a candid shot of the two of them that Aaron had snapped some time that day. They looked happy and carefree together, and it was the type of picture that made Lana seethe in jealousy. She longed for that feeling, for Vetor to finally be willing to give her a life together…in moments like that it was easy to resent other people's happiness.

She ought to have left, she really should have…but she found herself lingering, wandering into the ensuite to snoop on the things Carrie used, opening her moisturiser and dabbing a little onto her own face, taking a spritz of her perfume too. In their walk in closet she looked at the knee length cocktail dress Carrie had worn on her wedding day, admiring the fine lace and the pretty gold beadwork. She and Tara had found this for her before the wedding, on one of the first supply runs made after the quarry herd and Wolf attack. They had brought back dozens of wedding dresses, ensuring they chose a selection of fits that would accomodate Carrie's growing belly. But though she had been grateful for their efforts, she seemed generally unimpressed with the traditional wedding dresses, ultimately selecting a pale gold cocktail dress that had been a throw in for someone else. It had been a good choice too…she looked fantastic, and completely hid the fact that she was five months pregnant.

Pushing her luck further than she ought to Lana lingered even longer, creeping down to the far end of the hallway and looking into Carl's bedroom. It bore all the hallmarks of a teenage boy living there, posters on the wall, his prized electric guitar leaning in the corner. The only thing that looked odd was how clean it was, though she knew Carrie had been in to tidy up and change the sheets the other day. Letting herself in and taking a thorough look around, Lana cruelly smirked at the darts board he had on the inside of his closet door, noticing the many holes from the darts that had gone astray…with only one eye the kid couldn't aim for shit.

The bedroom directly across from Carrie's belonged to Judith, the white single bed having been hand crafted by Tobin and Carl, a project they had worked on in the first months following his accident. It perfectly matched the small toy chest and set of drawers where her clothing was kept, drawers which Lana slowly opened and looked inside. Judith's clothing was abundant in nature, the little girl wanting for absolutely nothing, except perhaps the dark haired mother pictured on her nightstand. It gave Lana a sick sense of satisfaction to know that on Judith's nightstand was a picture of another woman, the one who had been Rick's wife before Carrie. In her unkinder moments of jealousy she wondered if Lori was a better wife than Carrie, if Rick thought about her while he was screwing his new wife…probably not. He seemed to be a decent guy.

It was the final bedroom on that floor that made Lana's jealousy grow even more. This room used to belong to Michonne, but the double bed and old furniture was now pushed against the wall. A cardboard box in the far corner contained baby clothes, the sizes of which were surely too tiny to fit a human being, even if it was a newborn. There were a variety of colours and sizes, and the more Lana delved through the more she found. Muslin wraps, hand knitted coats and booties, cloth diapers, bibs, shoes and socks small enough to fit the paw of a cat…everything Carrie could possibly need for her baby. With a heavy sigh Lana returned the items to the cardboard box, glad they were already in an unorganised state of disarray. She looked up at the opposite wall on which there were three large squares of yellow paint, each of them ever so slightly different. Studying the writing beneath each that she recognised as belonging to Carrie, she wondered which she preferred. Custard, Sunflower Gold, or Daisy?

Knowing she had to have been there for over ten minutes by now, Lana promptly made her escape, feeling a little exhilarated by her impromptu snooping. There was no harm in what she had done, all the doors had been open anyway, and Daryl hadn't caught her. No one would ever know.

The harsh sound of the blaring alarm roused Lana from her daydreaming, and with great reluctance she raised her head and reached for the clock on her night stand. She giggled when she found that she couldn't reach it, that Vetor was in the way, and so she lay there and watched as he awoke, cringing and muttering under his breath in Portuguese. Rubbing his bleary eyes he reached over and fumbled with the clock, muttering something else until finally there was silence. With a long sigh he closed his eyes and relaxed back into the pillows, lazily raising a hand and pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. Laying there beside him Lana stroked the top of his arm to remind him of her presence, and he quickly got the message. He turned over and welcomed her into his arms, pressing his lips against hers.

"Bom dia, anjinho." _Good morning, little angel_.

Lana smiled, kissing him again. "Bom dia, meu amor." _Good morning, my love_.

Vetor opened his eyes and looked at her, the sweetness in them reminding her that everything was alright now. "O que faz você sorrir?"

Frowning, Lana faltered as she only half understood. "Uh…English, please."

"What makes you smile?" he repeated, gesturing to her face. "You're too happy for six o'clock in the morning."

"I'm glad you're awake. Eu te amo." _I love you_.

He smiled and pressed his lips to hers, but to her disappointment he didn't say it back. But it didn't matter, he had said it last night, he had meant it. Despite this her heart dropped when he pulled his arm from around her and started to sit up, turning away from her so quickly. With a burst of insecurity spurring her on she sat up too, strategically placing her fingers on his shoulders and lightly dragging them down his back. She grinned when he shivered in delight, when gooseflesh appeared on his skin. As she hoped he would he turned and looked at her over his shoulder. They kissed languidly, Lana's hands sliding around his hips towards his front, gently stroking the erection she knew she would find there.

"It's such a shame to waste morning wood," she whispered into his ear, knowing already that she had won him over.

Apparently agreeing with her, Vetor kissed her back before ushering her aside, making room so that he could lay down. Both of them gloriously naked she straddled his hips and leant down to kiss him, doing to him what she had done to Daryl the first time they had kissed. She took his lower lip between hers and sucked on it, endeared by the way Vetor moaned, the way he kissed her back with equal vigour. Moving her way down him she made sure to enjoy all that was now hers, to take advantage of the body that he would only share with her. She stroked his length and then took him into her mouth, emboldened by the exclamation of delight he made in Portuguese, words she didn't need to hear in English to understand. Her goal was to ensure that she was on his mind all day, that it was her only, no one else…this was certainly a good start.

They were late to the supply run pre-departure meeting, Lana made absolutely sure of it. Like every other day they made a supply run they met down at the lower gate where the van was ready and waiting, the group convening to go over the plans once more, to double check they had everything they needed and that they had covered all contingencies. It was a joyous feeling to be walking down there hand in hand with Vetor, for everyone to see them together…but her joy was only short lived. Before they even made it to the solar panels he let go of her hand, and when she subtly tried to slip hers into his again he avoided it, going to the length of putting his hands in his pockets.

"Desculpa," he apologised. "Estou com frio." _Sorry. I'm cold._

She started at him in astonishment, suddenly realising what a fool she had been. "I guess your dick can suck itself tonight."

She walked off ahead of him before he could see the expression on her face, before he could realise that she wasn't angry with him, but that his simple rejection had crushed her. She could feel the emotion welling up, her chest and throat beginning to tighten. How had she not seen that coming? She should have known that it wouldn't last…he wouldn't even hold her hand in public.

Putting on the face of normality she had worn so many times after he had disappointed her, Lana apologised for their tardiness and easily slipped into her role, doing her part to ensure the run crew was ready to leave. It took only a few minutes for them to be satisfied, and then the goodbyes began. Although they were never long and drawn out, the ritual of their family coming to see them off was an important one, ensuring they had that last moment together just in case something happened to them.

Glenn was saying goodbye to his wife and son, Herschel currently tucked up against Maggie's chest fast asleep, completely unaware that should the worst happen he would never really know his father. Elsewhere Spencer was saying goodbye to Olivia and others he was close to, while Daryl was bouncing Judith up and down on his hip, making her shriek and giggle. A few yards away stood Carrie, and even though it was a cold December morning there was no denying the radiant pregnancy glow she had going on today. She looked so content and happy, her eyes sparkling as she allowed Barbara to slip her hands under her coat to feel the baby moving. Lana had tried to feel it last night, when the baby had apparently been kicking up a storm, but it must have stopped the moment her hand touched Carrie's skin. She tried not to take rejection from a foetus too personally.

Lana knew she was seething with unjustified jealously, and she knew also that Carrie probably felt the same way about her too sometimes. That's just how women could be. They could be jealous of each other without true justification, envious of what the other has that they don't. But it was just so easy to envy Carrie. She had her life together…it was perfect and easy for her. A husband who worshipped the ground she walked on, two step-children who adored her, a baby on the way to seal the deal. She had everything that Lana wanted, everything she knew in her heart that Vetor didn't want to give her.

In spite of how well things went last night, even then Lana knew that her happiness with Vetor was going to be short lived. While she had been hopeful that things were going to change, that sleeping with Daryl had been the straw that broke the camel's back, another part of her suspected that nothing was different. Vetor had done this to her before. He'd promised her the world, told her that he loved her, that things would change and they'd be together. It lasted a couple of weeks, and then things went back to normal…and she stupidly kept going back for more, trying to call his bluff and always expecting things to change. She was starting to think she was going about it all the wrong way. Maybe instead of making Vetor jealous, she should be trying to seal the deal, to do what Carrie had done.

Falling pregnant with Vetor's child…that was sure to keep him around.

She knew that even thinking about it made her a hypocrite, that she had only recently accused Carrie of falling pregnant so a man would take care of her, but Lana didn't care. Her situation was different. She didn't need Vetor to take care of her, she had that handled all her self…she just needed him to want her. Maybe a baby would do that for him. If he could see the opportunity for them to raise a family together he would take it, she was certain he would. At the very least he would stay with her, he would never leave her to raise his child alone. It was a perfect solution, though one she wasn't sure she would be able to actually carry out.

The idea had only seriously occurred to her last night, and somehow Vetor suspected her already. He had probably been waiting for it for years now, braced for her to try and trick him into impregnating her. When they made love last night she told him to forgo the condom, roughly shoving it out of his hand and then kissing him full on the mouth to drown out any protests. Her heart soared with elation when he thrust into her without protection, and she was exhilarated that she'd succeed in her plan, that if she fell pregnant to him it would make everything perfect…it had worked for Carrie after all. But Vetor had ruined it, refusing her this one perfect solution. She had wrapped her legs tight around his thighs, her hands clutching his arse with all her strength, but still he managed to pull out before he finished. Panting heavily, Vetor smiled as he pressed his lips across her shoulders and then to each of her breasts, finally resting his head between them with a heavy sigh.

"Don't get any ideas from your friend Carrie," he said affectionately, recalling what Lana had accused her of last night. "Remember, I am your friend. I am the one you trust, yes?"

It took every ounce of strength to hide her disappointment, to hide how seriously she had wanted him inside her when he came. When they made love again that night he pulled out a second time, soothing her disappointment by telling her that he loved her, that they would be together…and stupidly she had allowed herself to believe for a few happy hours. She thought about their life and future together, fantasising in the delusion that he meant what he said, that he loved her. In stone cold daylight however, it was becoming increasingly clear that it wasn't the case. Vetor had taught her many things since she met him at the young age of sixteen, and the harshest lesson of all was that it was possible love someone and hate them at the same time.

Mitchell and Mina had come down to see off the run crew that morning, but Lana held no delusions about who they were there for. They were saying goodbye to Vetor, not to her. As she watched the three of them talking Lana felt a familiar pang of loneliness, and yet again she wondered what had happened to their group, how she had alienated herself from the people who had once supported her. It hadn't always been that way with Mitchell and Mina, the twins having always been staunch supporters of her as their group's leader. They had voted for her in the days following Vetor's ousting, that had trusted and defended her in the months and years the followed. Things had only changed when they had left their last place, fleeing without warning and leaving one of their own behind. That was Vetor's fault, yet they blamed her. None of it had been her choice, she wanted them to stay and face the music so things could be set right…they could have had a future there had it not been for Vetor's determination to stick his dick where it didn't belong.

It was humiliating for Lana to stand there and wait for the run crew, to be the only person not have someone saying goodbye to them. She tried to busy herself, keeping her face impassive as she rifled through her pockets, checking her ammunition, her guns, her knives. Trying to look occupied and uncaring, she took out one of her magazines and recounted the rounds, using her fingernail to flick aside a little bit of dirt. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, emotion tightening her chest, but she kept it at bay. No one trusted her here. No one had come to see her off, no one cared if she didn't come back alive.

In her peripheral vision she saw someone approaching, and her heart sank when she saw their shadow looming. It wasn't huge by any means, but there was no mistaking the pregnant belly even in shadow. For a long moment Lana stared down at the magazine she held in her hands, studying it long and hard before slipping it into her pocket and looking up. It was indeed Carrie, and she was standing by her side waiting patiently. Instantly she felt embarrassment for her behaviour last night, for the various compromising positions Carrie had seen her in lately, and her embarrassment almost saw her turn away. But before she could do anything Carrie was reaching down for her hand, taking it by the palm and bringing it towards her belly.

Lana held her breath, completely taken aback that after everything she had done to her last night, Carrie wanted her to feel the baby. It took everything Lana had to look her in the eye as Carrie placed her hand on her belly and encouraged her to press firmly. She wanted to avoid all of this, to never face Carrie again, but a small slither of hope compelled her to stay.

"Hang on…" Carrie muttered, turning a few steps to her right and moving Lana's hand around to the other side of her belly. "There. You feel that?"

Indeed she did, Lana's heart faltering when she felt the warm skin beneath her fingertips ripple. It felt strange, the sensation difficult to notice had she not been waiting for it, but when she felt it again she felt her spirits lift just a little. It was amazing to think that there was a baby inside of Carrie, that there was an entire being that was alive. When it was born kicking and screaming it would be loved unconditionally…hell, it already was loved unconditionally. Damn thing didn't even have to do anything other than exist, and people loved it. People would die for it.

"Yeah, I feel that," she replied softly. She wanted to feel more, to put both her hands on Carrie's belly and leave them there all day, but she quickly took her hand back. The embarrassment she felt came rushing back, making her look for a quick escape. "I gott-"

"It's lonely, isn't it," Carrie commented softly. Straightening her clothes she turned straight again and looked around at the residents who had gathered down at the gates with them.

Lana blinked in surprise, both intrigued by Carrie's comment and still wishing she could escape. "What's lonely?"

"When they don't appreciate what you've done for them," she replied. She looked at Lana for a moment, her tone and expression serious, and then she looked over towards Mitchell and Mina, to Vetor. "It starts to feel like they're not on your side anymore…like maybe they never were in the first place."

 _Fuck…how the fuck does she know that?_ "Yeah," she muttered in agreement, not sure what else to say.

"I had another group before Rick found me, before I came to Alexandria. I had to do things for them, probably like what you've done for yours…and they never thanked me for it. I don't get the impression yours have either."

Swallowing heavily, Lana crossed her arms and looked down at the ground, feeling incredibly foolish. Who was she to presume that Carrie's life had been perfect, that she had never done anything terrible? "Why didn't they thank you?"

It took a moment for Carrie to respond, and when Lana looked up she noticed the strained smile on her face, one she was well used to making too. "None of us wanted to acknowledge what I did, what it had cost me…so they never brought it up."

Setting aside the magnitude of what she had just said Carrie's smile became genuine as Judith wandered over to her, giving a needy whine and reaching for her. When she picked her up Judith mumbled in discontent, snuggling up to her and then sliding her hands inside her coat. Stroking her daughter's hair, Carrie turned back to Lana now. "I think that's what makes it harder for you and I to be friends. You said once that we're more alike than we realise."

"Yeah," Lana muttered despondently, remembering the conversation.

Looking at her from the corner of her eye, Lana tried to remind herself that although she hadn't seen it with her own two eyes, Carrie had fought tooth and nail for everything she had. She and Rick had nearly split up once, she could have died when that guy Pete attacked her, Carl had been maimed in the process. There was more than that too, and she vividly recalled the recording of Carrie's interview she had watched when she broke into Deanna's office. Carrie had a history, one she wouldn't talk about on camera. It was intriguing to Lana, the small snippets of information she had learned today making her want to know more, to know everything. But she doubted she ever would…given her behaviour recently, she figured Carrie was too smart to share any of that history with someone like her.

"I'm sorry for being a bitch last night," she said lowly, the apology tasting bitter in her mouth. "I know you don't have it easy. I know you had to fight for what you have."

"Yes, I did," Carrie nodded. "Thank you."

Glad to have that apology out of the way, Lana took a deep breath and raised her head. The run crew were preparing to leave now, everyone saying their final goodbyes, and as attention was turned to her too she forced a cheery smile, standing up straight and putting her shoulders back. It felt like she was coming to a resolution now, that maybe she finally understood her reality.

In spite of acknowledging her reality, Lana couldn't help but look over at Daryl for just a moment, still thinking about him. It didn't have to be over between them…at the very least the man deserved a farewell blow job. Besides, maybe he'd be easier to trick into impregnating her, more trusting if she told him she was on birth control. His dark hair with her fair skin - she could easily pass his child off as Vetor's.

"I'll end things with Daryl," she decided, speaking the instant she had that fleeting thought. That wasn't her…she couldn't be thinking about something so cruel, no matter how badly she wanted Vetor to love her.

"You don't need to do that because of me."

Lana laughed incredulously. "Like you didn't rip into him last night for sleeping with your friend?"

"I didn't," Carrie said, looking at her seriously. "I don't approve, not by any means…but it's none of my business."

Lana just raised her eyebrows, disbelieving that she could be so holier than thou. "Right, okay."

"Well, you were kind of right last night," she admitted, her acknowledgement of this taking Lana by surprise yet again. "Daryl's a grown man. I know you're sleeping with him to make Vetor jealous…but Daryl knows that too. What he does with that knowledge is up to him."

Carrie's position on the subject was surprising, as was the notion that she hadn't confronted Daryl and completely lost her shit. She started to feel completely overwhelmed, feeling like there was too much going on, too much for her to try and keep up with. God, where was she even supposed to start? It was all too much…her past left her guilt stricken, and yet in the present she risked making the same mistakes again. She could not let Vetor ruin Alexandria for her, not like he had ruined the last place…but that meant she couldn't have him. She couldn't have both.

"Vetor's going to leave me," she finally admitted, making sure to keep her tone light and cheerful lest the weight of this agony crush her. Smiling at Carrie, she continued. "I don't know when…but one day, he's going to leave me."

There was an awkward pause now, Carrie giving a heavy sigh as she moved Judith around to her other hip. "Why don't you stay home today? I'm going to Maggie's house to watch Sex and the City later. You could join us."

Lana shook her head, managing an actual smile now. She looked at the others who were standing at the rear of the run van debating who was going to take the wheel. Spencer, Daryl and Vetor…the three men she'd slept with in as many weeks. "Nah," she said, refusing Carrie's offer. "This looks like more fun."

Much to Daryl's protests, Glenn had won the debate on who was taking the wheel, and he gleefully snatched the keys from Daryl's hands and then told them all to get in. Daryl followed him with one more word of protest, brandishing the map and then hitting him with it. Watching their antics Lana couldn't help but laugh in amusement, the sensation helping to lift her spirits just a little.

"B cup with underwire, right?" she teased as she headed off, looking at Carrie's dismayed expression over her shoulder.

"No," she moaned pathetically. "Please no…"

Grinning at her, Lana gave her the thumbs up to reassure her she'd find some bras in the right size, and then headed over to join her run crew. As she went the ache in her heart eased when she saw people waving goodbye to her too, to her specifically, and so she waved back at them, glad they would never know how much it meant to her. But despite this it didn't take much for her to fall back into old ways, no matter how self-destructive it was. Knowing she had Vetor's gaze on her she brushed her hand over Daryl's as she passed him by, and then she waited with bated breath.

Daryl gave no discernible reaction to her touch, perhaps having not even noticed it, and he simply pressed a rough kiss to Judith's cheek and then to Carrie's, but it wasn't his reaction she was interested in. It was barely a glimpse, but she caught the flash of anger that appeared on Vetor's face, his less than pleased reaction to seeing her show affection to another man, to Daryl. In that moment she felt a sense of retribution, glad that she had made Vetor angry. Perhaps this ought to be her next course of action, to get back at him for all the pain he had caused her. It was disappointing when Daryl joined Glenn in the front of the van, meaning she had to resort to using Spencer to piss him off. But despite Vetor considering him less of a threat, she knew she was getting her message across.

Vetor and Spencer got into the back of the van and sat opposite one another, and then Lana followed them in and settled herself down on Spencer's right. They thanked Rosemary as she came forward and closed the doors for them, Glenn starting the engine and putting the vehicle into gear, and then moments later they were on the move. Through the front she watched as they departed Alexandria and left it behind them, setting out onto the wide open road with a list of construction supplies they needed for the cattle yard they were going to build.

Waiting until she knew she had Vetor's attention, Lana shuffled a little closer to Spencer and gave him a hesitant smile. He didn't know she'd been sleeping with Daryl, he didn't know the game she was playing with Vetor…he was just young and naive enough to believe what she told him, too thrilled to have a woman in his bed to question it too much. He had been disappointed by her avoidance of him for the last two weeks, perhaps worried that he had done something to upset her, that she had lost interest in him. Knowing she needed to keep him on the line for moments just like this, she had told him that she had her period, that it was awful and she felt like crap. She'd left him with the promise of later, though her intentions to follow through on that had been minimal at best. There was no doubting that Daryl was the one who Vetor felt threatened by, but with him in the front seat and Spencer in the back, he would have to do. Besides, Daryl would never let her flaunt it, too skittish for public affection, and especially not in front of Vetor.

When Spencer smiled back at her she took action, tentatively reaching her hand over and placing it on the top of his thigh. He seemed to hold his breath, thrilled that she hadn't lost interest in him. Knowing Spencer he was already thinking about how he'd wine and dine her that night, what he would have to do to get her into his bed…little did he know, he didn't need to do anything at all. A moment later Lana moved her hand further up his thigh, holding his gaze with a warm smile. His gaze dropped to the front of her shirt, his lips parting as he looked down her cleavage, but he visibly jolted when she moved her hand to the front of his crotch. Flushed red with both embarrassment and excitement, Spencer gave a shy laugh as he pushed her hand away, self-consciously glancing over at Vetor. His body had always been quick to respond…it took little effort to get him hard and completely wrapped around her little finger.

Under her breath she playfully apologised, and though she took her hand off his leg she settled it into the small space between them. A moment later he did exactly what she had hoped he would. Brushing aside his embarrassment, he looked at her in adoration, perhaps unable to believe how god damn lucky he was. Knowing how repay that kind of affection, he took her hand in his and entwined their fingers, content to hold it like that for the rest of their journey. Spencer didn't care who saw them holding hands…he wasn't ashamed of her.

Feeling particularly pleased with herself, Lana turned and looked at Vetor, smug to see that he was staring at her. Though his expression was impassive, she knew exactly what was thinking, exactly the rage and jealousy that was smouldering behind those beautiful dark eyes.

"Ele quer segurar minha mão," she told him. "O que você fará sobre isso?"

 _He wants to hold my hand. What will you do about it?_

* * *

Completely entranced, Carrie wasn't even paying attention to the movie, not caring that it was her favourite movie they were watching. Laying in her lap was Herschel, and with his belly full and his diaper fresh he was perfectly content, though he did seem to be looking up at Carrie was a sense of scrutiny. Grateful that he wasn't crying she was happily doing her best to entertain him, passing him his toys and watching on as he looked at them in interest, slowly bringing them to his mouth to suck on.

On the rug beside her Judith was curled up with her thumb in her mouth, eyes slowly drooping shut while Carrie stroked her hair. She was almost an hour overdue for her morning nap, and it had begun taking it's toll until Carrie convinced her to lay down with her, though the little girl's cooperation was merely a stroke of luck. She'd been having a great time during their visit to Maggie's house, soaking in all the extra attention and following poor Sasha around every where she went.

In their minds, this was the most ideal way to pass the time while they waited for the run crew to return. Though Maggie's living room was crammed full of people they were having a good time, a group having come together to have lunch and watch a movie. Today they had Maggie, Enid, Anna, Barbara, Rosemary, Olivia and Eugene, while Sasha, Rosita and Tara had been bluntly invited given their current state of ill health. That morning Carrie had made a point of inviting Mina and Mitchell to come and join them, conscious that after so long they still hadn't really made many friends, but as quickly as Lana had shot her down, so too did they.

"Lunch and a movie?" Mina asked, feigning politeness. "Oh yeah, definitely for sure."

 _Definitely for sure_. The polite version of I have to feed my cat.

When Herschel gave a great sigh Carrie couldn't help but do the same. Last night's argument with Lana was still weighing heavily on her mind, even more so having seen her again that morning. Moral high ground aside it was horrible to see Lana like that, to see her standing there alone, the only member of the run crew who didn't have someone saying goodbye to them. Mina and Mitchell seemed to have made a point of avoiding her, and clearly they had picked Vetor's side. Right now Lana was on the out even within her own group, and yet there she was getting ready to go out and scavenge supplies for them, to provide for them.

It was a stark reminder of the position that Lana must be in, that it was a position Carrie too had once been in. There had once been a time when she too had been on the out within her own group, though they would have all agreed she had done nothing to wrong them. What she had done to protect her group, letting Granger's group use her…none of her group had known how to approach it, how to bring up the subject. It became too difficult to talk about, and over time she felt the divide come between herself and certain group members. She resented them, and they walked on egg shells around her. The same type of thing was happening to Lana, and regardless of Carrie's thoughts on her more recent behaviour, she knew it was one hell of a lonely place to be.

Holding Lana's behaviour against her would be easy to do. She was behaving immaturely, doing stupid things like getting other people caught up in her drama, and yet Carrie sympathised with her. Though it had been a long time ago she still remembered the utter devastation of heartbreak, the way everything else in her life became meaningless each time she caught Logan cheating on her. Deciding to divorce him was the easy part…but actually surviving it was a whole other thing. Insecurities had eaten away at her self-worth, his reluctance to fight for their marriage feeling like another rejection, another betrayal. That experience had changed her, had turned her into a vindictive bitch who wanted nothing other than to make him hurt as much as he had hurt her. Just like Lana was doing now, during her divorce Carrie had said and done things that she regretted, that were out of character for her.

She knew that Lana was embarrassed by her behaviour last night, and she was grateful for her apology. Whatever happened next, Carrie just had to remind herself of something that Rick had told her months ago, that Lana needed someone watching out for her. Feelings aside, Carrie knew she had to keep doing that for her. It didn't have to be huge, the few words she had said to her that morning had likely helped, but she had to keep making the effort for Lana's sake. She would never forget what Denise had done for her in the weeks and months that followed Pete's attack, how she had been there for her, letting her talk at length, comforting her. That's what Lana needed now, and Carrie was determined to make sure she got it.

"Awww, look at him," Anna sighed. Sitting on the couch behind Carrie she peered at Herschel over her shoulder, admiring him. "Is this him getting hungry, Maggie?"

Sitting on the other end of the couch, Maggie sat up and peered down at her son, watching the way he sucked on his fingers. "Yeah, he'll crack it in a couple of minutes."

"Seriously?" Carrie questioned in surprise. "He just nursed for over an hour."

"Yeah, but he pooped too. Now there's extra room to fill up."

"My God, you hungry little boy," she cooed, unable to help herself. She ticked Herschel's tummy, glad when he looked up and gifted her a sweet smile. It was fleeting though, for his expression quickly turned back to one of intense scrutiny, perhaps still deciding how he felt about her.

"Hey, Eugene," Carrie whispered, trying to get his attention.

Tearing his eyes away from the television he looked at her attentively. "Yeah?"

"You know that sandwich I made earlier," she began, gesturing to her empty plate on the coffee table.

"Grilled onion, mayonnaise and pepper? Yes, I do recall said masterpiece."

She smiled at him sweetly. "Make me one, and you can have a bite."

"I want half."

"No way," she protested. "Half is too much."

"I'm sorry that my rates have not floated your boat, but they are the rates."

Clearing her throat, Maggie stepped in for her. "You know Eugene, I could use a sandwich too. For Herschel of course…your self-appointed God son."

Seeing the opportunity, Olivia piped up next. "And we could use more lemonade down here."

"Yeah, thanks Eugene," Barbara laughed, collecting their empty glasses and holding them out towards him. "That's so sweet of you to get us refills."

Narrowing his eyes at them all, Eugene slowly rose to his feet. "Alright, I will play your game," he agreed, though his tone indicated there was more negotiating to come. "But when Abraham asks, you were my harem and you waited on me."

"Some more popcorn would be great too," Enid added, taking the last few pieces before passing him the bowl. "Thanks Eugene."

There was a chorus of gratitude as Eugene bustled around and started waiting on them, perhaps regretting his acceptance of their invitation to join them that day. Happy that her sandwich was on it's way, for the one she had earlier hadn't quite hit the spot, Carrie turned her attention back to Herschel. Just as Maggie predicted he was indeed starting to look a little unhappy, and he shifted around on her lap and turned his head, perhaps looking for his mother. For now though he was quiet, allowing Carrie just a little extra time to spend with him. She'd never really spent much time with the newborn, but as her pregnancy progressed and the soon to be reality hit home she had taken a greater interest in him. Aside from Rick of course, Maggie was going to be her greatest source for questions and assistance, the person who would quell her fears and listen attentively to her every concern.

Having been sitting still for over an hour now the movements inside her felt clearer, easier to notice. No longer was it just the whooshing sensation of her baby turning over, but she was starting to feel their individual movements, a distinct kick of the foot or stretching of the arms. With Herschel in her lap she tried to remember how big he had been as a newborn, still coming around to the idea that in a few short months she would have a newborn of her own. The very thought of that made her smile. A sharp about turn from her early pregnancy, these days Carrie was giddy with excitement that she and Rick were having a baby, that Carl and Judith would get another sibling.

Her mouth watered when Eugene finally brought over her sandwich, and she was so happy to see it that she didn't even protest the fact he had taken half as he warned. But before she could even consider taking a bite a knock at the door distracted her, the entire living room raising their heads to the front door to see who it was. Without waiting for invitation, not that he ever needed one, Eric opened the door and came inside, but he didn't look to be in the mood to join them.

"The run crew are coming back," he told them, taking a measured breath before continuing. "Someone's hurt."

A chill went through Carrie's body, and she turned to look at Maggie. There was a long moment in which everyone sat there in silence, and then finally Maggie set aside her glass of lemonade and got to her feet.

"Who?"

"I don't know," he said apologetically. "They're almost here."

"Oh fuck," Carrie gasped under her breath, her mind automatically going to the worst possible places. Glenn and Daryl were on that run today, Lana too. "Barbara, can you take him?" she said urgently, gesturing to Herschel in her lap.

At the front door Maggie was slipping on her shoes, but she stopped to wait for Carrie. "There's breastmilk in the refrigerator," she told the room at large. "Enid knows how to heat it."

Stepping over Judith who was still soundly asleep on the rug, Carrie rushed to catch up, slipping on her shoes at the front door and then joining Maggie outside. Eric had already gone on ahead, and so they walked side by side to the intersection that overlooked Alexandria, their hearts sinking as they looked down towards the south gate. It was already open, Tobin and Heath standing guard as they waited for the run crew to come back. Meanwhile Rosita and Tara were emerging from the Infirmary with a stretcher, both of them still wearing their pyjamas as they prepared to help the person that had been hurt. They were both antsy, pulling on rubber gloves as Abraham rushed over to join them, hastily washing his hands at a nearby tap before heading inside to get some gloves of his own.

"He's okay," Carrie said firmly, looking at Maggie beside her. "They're all okay."

Maggie stood there with her arms folded across her chest, jaw clenched as she stared at the open gate and waited. It was a confronting reminder that this was not the first time Maggie had been forced to wait for her husband's safe return, a situation Carrie too was finding herself in more and more often.

Without warning the run van appeared down the road leading towards Alexandria, and the haste with which it sped towards them made Carrie's heart start racing. In trepidation she watched as it came closer and closer, swerving around one of their Walker traps in the middle of the road before the driver floored the accelerator one last time. They came soaring through the gate, Carrie and Maggie hastening to get off the road and onto the pavement before the van came screeching around the corner. She managed to catch sight of Lana at the wheel, but she was afforded only a brief glimpse of her before the van flew past before screeching to a stop right outside the Infirmary.

Everyone was springing into action, Rosita starting forward while Abraham and Tara followed with the stretcher. Meanwhile Lana was leaping out of the front, her face alight with tears and panic. She appeared unharmed, but when she rushed around to the back and opened the doors Carrie saw a few smears of blood on her arms.

"I think he's dead," she cried out, her whole body trembling as she looked at Abraham. "I-I…we didn't know what to do."

There was a long silence now, Rosita having climbed into the back of the van while everyone waited with bated breath to see who it was. A figure emerged from the back, but to Carrie's frustration it was only Vetor, someone she frankly didn't care all that much for. Nevertheless he stepped out and swept Lana into his arms, comforting her as she started to cry. His expression was stony faced, his hands and forearms also bearing the same smears of blood that Lana's did.

Finally Maggie could take it no longer, and she set off towards the run van, as did Carrie. "Glenn?" Maggie called out, her voice strained with emotion. "Glenn!"

Standing outside looking in Abraham and Tara stood idle, their lack of haste indicating that there was no hope. A moment later Rosita stepped out of the van too, her expression downcast as she pulled off her bloodied gloves and folded them up.

"We need to get him on the stretcher," she said softly, taking a slow breath as she raised her head and looked around. "Someone find Gabriel. Now."

* * *

A/N Hey readers, I hope you enjoyed a chapter from Lana's POV! A couple of hints throughout this chapter about the past and future, I'm sure some eagle eyed readers will pick up on them! Please do leave a review and let me know what you think. Cheers!


	27. Chapter 27

Monday December 8

Rousing at the familiar beep of his alarm clock, Rick rolled over in his bed and fumbled for the device, his fingers heavy with sleep as he tried to find the switch that was always too small. After a few moments of fumbling silence ensued, allowing him to set the clock back down onto the makeshift nightstand and relax…but he didn't allow himself to relax. A nearby light was already illuminated, telling Rick that he wasn't the first one awake. When he rolled onto his back and looked across the room to Carl's bed he was unsurprised to find it empty. The surprising part was that it had been made.

As he rubbed his eyes Rick slowly pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to wake himself up. This morning he felt rather tired, though there was no particular reason for it. He wasn't exactly over worked, for the days they led in their new temporary home weren't exactly difficult. Having made themselves a home for the next month or so they were making the most of the Kingdom, not wanting to waste the opportunity. Carl had friends and was going to school five days a week, Rick and Michonne were working various jobs and meeting people, Denise was learning from the doctors, while Carol was everywhere at once, everyone having taken an easy liking to her sweet persona just as the Alexandrians had. Life here in the Kingdom was good, far better than anything Rick had braced himself for.

Carl's health had steadily improved, the infection that had ravaged him for weeks having been overpowered by the intravenous antibiotics he received every day for two weeks. Aside from catching a bout of the flu that had made the rounds he had been the picture of health, even having gained three pounds thanks to the calorie heavy _special order_ meals he received three times a day. His first surgery had been last Friday, a full surgical debridement of the wound removing all of the poorly healed flesh to leave only a healthy wound bed. Though Mak and Brea had considered it a success, they had warned that it was going to be some time before they knew whether he would need a skin graft or not.

Although Rick had many sleepless nights leading up to the procedure, Carl had come through remarkably well. Friday he had stayed in the Infirmary and rested, and when he came home Saturday morning he was miserable and in pain…but by Saturday he was restless, itching to get out of their room and do something. With Rick making a point of hovering only a little, Carl had ventured outside in the company of Benjamin, the two new friends taking a short walk in the fresh air before he became too tired to go on. Rick had hoped that Carl would continue to stay at home and rest for a few more days, having promised he could have the entire week off from school…but waking up Monday morning to find the bed empty and his son gone told him that was a bleak hope.

Slipping his watch over his wrist Rick checked the time, noting that he had fifteen minutes until his watch shift started at six o'clock. Figuring that was just enough time to track down Carl and check on him he forced himself away from his warm bed and then quickly dressed. The shock of cool air made him grit his teeth like it did every morning. Living in Georgia had been cold enough for his tastes, and he dreaded the possibility of getting snow in Washington. He winced in discomfort as he moved around, tenderly touching the bruise on the side of his hip from where Colton's horse Neville had kicked him. He moved just in time to deflect the worst of it, but the hoof still clipped him hard enough to knock him clean off his feet. That damn horse had a temperament problem, at least when it came to new faces. Still annoyed, he briefly considered not putting on the body armour he had taken to wearing while on watch, not wanting it to rub against the bruise. He had never made a habit of wearing body armour in day to day life, not wanting to learn dependence on it for protection, but here in the Kingdom it was about fitting in.

Making his bed with as much effort as Carl had made his, he opened the gun safe next to his bed and removed his Colt, pleased to note that Carl had taken his weapons too. The Kingdom had become used to the fact that the visitors from Alexandria carried their weapons on them at all time, that even sweet Carol carried hers. For the Kingdom it was unusual, with only a few key people carrying weapons throughout their day to day lives. But with the understanding that they were never to be drawn, lest they be considered a threat, it had been allowed for Rick's people.

"Good morning," he greeted Carol, stopping by the adjacent classroom she shared with Michonne and Denise. He looked around for the former, his watch partner for the morning. "She gone already?"

Carol was sitting on the couch with a book in her lap, already awake and dressed despite the early hour. She looked up with a small smirk, and it was then he knew she had something interesting to say. "Michonne never came home last night."

Rick managed a chuckle at this, long past the point of that type of sentence worrying him. Last night had been a Monopoly tournament, and despite her insistence that she would only play one round, none of them had been expecting her home early…or sober. "Have you been waiting up for her all night?"

Scoffing, Carol shook her head. "If I did that, I'd never get any sleep."

Settling for just a smile, Rick bade her farewell and then went on his way. Just like Carl and Carol had, Michonne too had settled in well here at the Kingdom, having made a small gang of friends she was usually found with if she wasn't working or with Carl. Unable to believe his luck, Rick grinned when he stepped outside into the cold morning and came almost face to face with her, and she had clearly been hoping to avoid been seen. She was in quite the state of dishevelment, her studded belt slung over her shoulder and her boot laces undone, the bandana around her dreadlocks missing completely.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully, not bothering to lower his voice for her comfort.

Her expression sour, she looked up at him in annoyance. "Is it?"

"Tough game?" he asked, raising his voice and stepping in front of her.

She cringed and stepped back a little. "Yeah."

Taking pity on her, he lowered his voice to a more acceptable hangover volume. "I thought you were just playing one round."

"Well so did I, but Justin cheats," she insisted, sounding sore on the subject. "Can't trust him to be the banker, so we had to rematch."

"So, where have you been?" he asked pleasantly, eagerly awaiting her answer. "Carol was worried about you. Sat up the whole night waiting."

There was a pause as Michonne gave a heavy sigh, and just as he thought she'd give some lame excuse she looked up at him with a self-satisfied smirk. "I was with a gentleman friend."

Clapping her on the shoulder, Rick grinned as he stepped aside and let her into the building. "Good for you. You gonna make it to our shift together?"

"Yeah," she nodded, shuffling her way inside. "Get me some breakfast?"

"Take a shower?"

Michonne stopped and rubbed the back of her neck, staring at the ground. "Yeah. That's probably a good idea."

"I'll cover for you, take your time."

Setting off across the Kingdom, which despite the darkness and early hour was already beginning to bustle with life, Rick tried not to stop and say hello to everyone he went by. Despite having over a hundred people living here the community seemed as close knit as Alexandria had become, and there had been little resistance in welcoming the Alexandria visitors into the fold. After two weeks he recognised most faces and knew dozens of names, but everyone of course knew him, they knew his family.

Knowing his way around with his eyes closed, Rick made his way around the side of the cafeteria towards the kitchen at the back. Looking in through the screen door he observed the hustle and bustle of the breakfast service, the shift already in full swing. He waited a couple of moments, hoping to catch a glimpse of his son in his usual spot at the sink doing dishes, but when he didn't see him he politely knocked on the door and waited. In an instant someone was there, opening the door to let him in and then calling out for Chef.

"Your boy is out front," Chef said to him, glancing up from the stove where he was watching a pot. "He's on service today."

"A promotion from dish bitch?" he asked, referring to the brutish yet affectionate job names they had here in the kitchen.

"A _temporary_ promotion," Chef replied sternly. "He's told to rest but comes in for shift this morning, he won't hear no. I tell him he can't wash dishes, too much water near his face, too much splash. He beg, he plead me…no one ever plead to wash dishes in my kitchen," he said in disbelief, leaving the pot and then making his way over to where Rick stood by the door. "I think he crazy, so I take pity, tell him to work service only. Easy job, everyone want that job. Yes?"

Rick nodded in agreement, grateful for this. It had never been said between he and his son's new employer, but part of the reason Carl liked doing the dishes in the kitchen was that he got to hang out with the kitchen staff, who for some reason he had taken a liking too. But the role of washing dishes was largely solo, and he didn't have to talk to many people, he didn't have to let people look at his face in curiosity and sympathy. But on food service everyone would be looking at him, talking to him, asking him how he was feeling. With the new bandage from the surgery even more prominent, Chef allowing him to only work on food service wouldn't have been Carl's first preference, but he had taken it. Chef had pushed him a little, giving him a promotion from grunt work to force him out of his comfort zone.

"Thank you," Rick said, both of them conscious of what Chef had done, of the confidence Carl's employment under him had instilled. "I appreciate it."

"He work breakfast only, he needs to rest. He's a good boy you've got," Chef commented, going about some other work as they spoke. From beneath a counter he removed a box of fresh herbs and a large kitchen knife, and he set about dicing them without even needing to look, muscle memory taking over. "A good son. He'll take care of you when you're old."

"I certainly hope so. Thank you."

"Where you going?" Chef asked as Rick turned away. "You have watch today, yes?" he asked, gesturing to the Kingdom's work schedule that was posted on a kitchen notice board.

"Yes, I'm ge-"

"You're late," he scolded him. "I send breakfast to you. Eggs and coffee, yes? Black?"

"Yes, please. Could I trouble you to send out Michonne's rations too? She's on watch with me."

"No trouble for me. Trouble for Gino. He's on grunt duty, aren't you Gino?" he laughed loudly, looking at the heavy set man who was scrubbing muck out from underneath a counter. "That will teach you to fuck with my recipes."

"Thank you, Gino," Rick said, and though he turned to leave he barely made it a step, for it seemed Chef wasn't done with him just yet.

"How is your wife?" he asked. "She's coming today, yes?"

"No, she's staying home. Someone else is coming."

"Well come to me before your _someone_ _else_ goes back home. I made food for your wife. Lots of calories, good vitamins for your baby. And when baby comes I make her special cookies, give her good milk."

"Thank you, that's very kind."

"You will thank me," Chef said seriously, looking him in the eye. "She'll have tits the size of melons. Dish bitch!" he hollered.

"Yeah?" Carl called out, his face suddenly appearing in the servery window. He caught sight of Rick and waved. "Hey Dad."

"Not you. Back to work," Chef said bluntly, slamming the servery window shut as he turned to Gino. "Two breakfasts and coffee for the east watch, yes? Quick! Eggs for Rick, toast for Michonne. Only toast, she's hungover," he laughed, turning back to Rick with a grin. "Now you can go," he dismissed him. "Get out of my kitchen, or put apron on. You choose."

Thanking him again, Rick gave his son a quick wave and then made a hasty departure, glad to have touched base with him. It came as no surprise that Carl turned up for his kitchen shift and begged to be allowed to work, that the idea of a fourth day confined to his room with only Rick or Michonne for company was less than thrilling. Even in spite of his injury and everyone's well meaning sympathy he was still eager to be out in the community, socialising with the small group of friends he had made.

Making it to his shift on watch only a few minutes late, Rick took over from the pair who had been on that post, the handover not unlike the process in Alexandria. A debrief and run down of the night's events were shared, and after a thorough weapons check in which Rick reviewed the ammunition available and ran his thumb over the safety mechanism of the rifle, they were done. As he settled in and waited for Michonne to join him, Rick was glad knowing that he didn't have to be here for six long hours, that he had company during his shift. With more people here capable of taking watch the shifts in the Kingdom were shorter in length and completed in pairs, and even with more watch posts than Alexandria they were sufficiently covered. Today Rick and Michonne's shift was a mere four hours in length, giving them two hours to prepare to meet Daryl and Rosita at midday. Today would be their second meeting since they all went separate ways, their opportunity to touch base and check on one another.

Dwelling on the meeting, Rick hoped that today Daryl would give him a little more of an update on Carrie and Judith than he had last time. A simple assurance that they were fine hadn't felt like enough for him, for while Rick was gladly busy with plenty of work to pass the time, he figured it was the opposite for Carrie. There wasn't much in Alexandria to occupy her time other than Judith and a little work in the Pantry. He hoped that she was getting out of the house enough, that she was keeping herself occupied and seeing people…the days must be crawling by for her. Wondering if they might organise a day trip next week for Carl to come to Alexandria, Rick wondered about the baby, if Carrie's belly had grown very much. Had she added any more names to their list on the refrigerator? A couple of names had come to mind for him this week, his suggestions hopefully more palatable to her than the last he had made.

By the time Michonne managed to make her way to her shift she was a half hour late, the sun having already begun rising. He openly laughed at her as she climbed up to the post and then slumped down onto her stool, looking at her cold toast with both disdain and longing.

"You look like death warmed up," he teased her, sipping at the coffee that Gino had brought to him a little while ago. "How do those drinks taste now?"

"Like regret," she muttered. She picked up a piece of toast and looked at it, bringing it towards her mouth before thinking better of it. "And vomit."

"So, who was the guy?" he asked inquisitively. "Anyone I know?"

"Come with me next time. Maybe I'll introduce you to him."

"You and I playing Monopoly? I don't think that would be the best thing for our friendship."

"Why? You're not a sore loser, you could handle me beating you."

"I'm not a sore loser, but you are," he teased. "I'd beat you at Monopoly with my eyes closed."

"I will call you on that. Next Sunday, you're playing too."

"No. I can't destroy you, I just can't."

Finally Michonne cracked, managing a pitiful laugh. "Come on, as if you would destroy me. And I'm not a sore loser."

"The great Jenga tantrum last Christmas says otherwise."

She narrowed her eyes now, her voice becoming significantly lower. "You bumped the table, and you know it."

Their ribbing having concluded for now they turned their attention back to the task at hand, resuming their supervision of the world outside while they enjoyed the sunrise. Running his mind over the plan for that day, Rick reminded himself of the work he and Michonne were expected to carry out, work that was the trade off for Carl's treatment. While Carol's work fitted her persona, taking care of her group's laundry, and helping at the school, Rick and Michonne were on the other end of the spectrum. After their meeting with Daryl there would be Walkers that needed clearing from the vicinity of the walls, fresh drinking water to be dispersed around the Kingdom, firewood to cut. He wondered if he should encourage Carl to go to school today, for if he was well enough to work then surely he was well enough to study. Perhaps he might seek Benjamin's help in that respect, for Carl did seem to look up to him. It was a nice change that Carl had friends Rick approved of, particularly after how things had turned out with Ron and Mikey.

When the sun had fully risen Rick began keeping better track of his peripheral vision, knowing that at any minute now a key person would be walking by. Sure enough ten minutes later Richard was there, making his rounds inside the walls of the Kingdom three times a day, just like Rick does in Alexandria. Today he was accompanied by Ezekiel, who thankfully didn't make a habit of taking Shiva for a morning stroll around the Kingdom. Walking side by side the two men made their way towards the watch post where Rich and Michonne sat, and even from a distance Rick could tell that they were in deep conversation.

Ezekiel had come as a many faceted surprise to Rick. A King he may be, seated on his throne and supported by his entourage of soldiers and knights, yet he didn't seem to rule his Kingdom with an iron fist. In spite of his dramatic showmanship and choice of pet, he seemed to be an otherwise reasonable person…a good leader for the Kingdom. The people here seemed to revere him, though not blindly so. In his few short weeks Rick had overheard some grumbles about the King, the right type of dissatisfaction that put him as a visitor and ally at ease. He'd be suspicious if the people here only ever praised Ezekiel, if he was without criticism and occasional dislike. But it was this that put Rick at ease, making him trust him just a little more every day.

It seemed Ezekiel seemed to stand by his notion of drink from the well, replenish the well. For Rick, the only payment that had been asked of him for Carl's treatment was some general work, that Michonne, Carol and Denise contribute and earn their way. But it seemed that mantra pertained to Ezekiel too, for he too had been seen going about various tasks, not considering himself too good or too special to help his people in their day to day lives. It wasn't unusual for him to be found tending to the gardens or milking the cows, enjoying the task of serving his people meals at the cafeteria. Though there was a clear distinction between he, his Knights and his subjects, he seemed to have less arrogance about his position than another might. Rick felt cautiously optimistic about the future relationship between Alexandria and King Ezekiel.

Richard on the other hand…he was taking a change in Rick's opinion. In hindsight he understood why Richard had allowed him to bring his people here without prior warning of Shiva, for as he said Rick would have never come had he known beforehand. But it wasn't neglecting to mention the tiger that was colouring Rick's opinion of him. Until now he had only seen Richard for every other week, for a thirty minute period in which both parties were on their best behaviour during their trade meetings. Nowadays Rick was seeing Richard in his normal environment, and had quickly become clear to him that he carried a great deal of stress, that there was a weight on his shoulders that only a select few were aware of.

It wasn't unusual for Richard and his entourage of trusted companions to come and go from the Kingdom at will, taking a vehicle or two out for hours at a time. But it wasn't that alone which bothered Rick, for he had always known that Rickard spent his time scavenging for resources…it was the resources that disappeared which bothered him. Not quite two weeks ago when Rick had barely even settled in to the new community, he had seen something that struck him as strange, suspicious even. Richard and his entourage left for the day to go scavenging, but they departed the walls with two crates of fresh produce hidden under a tarp…two crates that did not return with them.

He knew for certain that this produce wasn't being traded with Alexandria. Until now they had been trading every two weeks just to keep the relationship growing, to learn one another and test the waters. For now though, their trades were on hold until one party needed something from the other, a suspension that allowed them to focus on Carl's treatment and recovery. With this in mind there was only one other explanation for the missing produce, and it was one that Rick didn't relish. There was another group with whom they traded.

The question of who this group was had kept Rick up at night more than once. To Rick, another group was a potential hitch in an otherwise smooth landscape. It had been disruptive and uncertain enough when it came to developing a relationship with the Kingdom, and now there was another group around? Where had they come from? What were they like? Were they in any way connected to the biker gang that had held up Daryl, Sasha and Abraham? Or had they been victims of that group too?

Regardless of this uncertainty, Rick was reluctant to rock the boat too much, unwilling to jeopardise Carl's treatment here if he accidentally put a foot wrong. There was so much at stake here for him. Carl was recovering well, and soon he might even be well enough to undergo a skin graft, a procedure that would potentially restore some kind of normal appearance to his face, to minimise the future scarring. Every time he considered asking Richard who he was trading with, Rick pictured in his mind's eye the mottled scars on his son's face, reminding himself of how much worse those scars could become if he didn't receive the treatment he was here for. For the next month at least his people needed to keep their head down and attention focused on what mattered, both here and at home in Alexandria. He had already raised his suspicions and thoughts with Michonne and Carol, and they too were in agreement that for now they needed to leave things as they were. Daryl too was aware of what Rick had seen, he would have taken steps to keep Alexandria on alert without alarming anyone. Until there was any indication of a problem, he wasn't going to act.

Making their way around the yellow school bus that flanked either side of the eastern gate, Richard and Ezekiel looked up at the watch posts, the latter giving a beaming smile as he looked up at him. When they came closer, he greeted Rick and Michonne as if they were old friends, proudly thanking them for their service on the watch posts that day.

"It pleased me to see your son looking well today," he said warmly, looking up at Rick from the road below. "He served my breakfast for me in the cafeteria not even twenty minutes ago. It was an honour being served by him."

"I'm sure the honour was all his," Rick replied, both appreciating the kind words, and playing along with the pleasantries. He glanced at Richard for a moment, noticing the way he waited patiently while the King did his thing.

"Shall Chris expect him in class this afternoon? I hear Carl is quite enjoying the science curriculum."

"I'll see how he's feeling. He'll probably be there."

While Ezekiel bid them farewell and made to move on, to continue the morning walk around the inside of the walls, Richard stopped a moment longer. "What are your plans tomorrow?" he asked, looking between Rick and Michonne.

Considering the question they shared a glance with one another. "Same plans as today," Michonne answered. "Go where our help is needed."

"Carl doesn't have anything scheduled with Mak and Brea?"

"No."

Richard nodded, looking pleased to hear this, and then he spared a brief glance at Ezekiel before turning back to them. "I'd like to take one of you on a supply run. We could use the extra help, but I'm afraid there's only room for one more."

Looking down from atop the watch post, Rick hid the satisfaction he felt upon hearing this request. Though he had been content to leave things as they were unless he heard rumblings of trouble, he was eager to know what was going on outside the walls. Was that going to happen tomorrow? Was this an introduction to the other group they were trading with?

"Thank you for the invitation," Rick said pleasantly. "I'll make sure one of us is available."

Nodding, Richard thanked them and then departed with a wave, he and Ezekiel falling into step beside one another. Resuming their position on watch Rick and Michonne shared a loaded glance, both of them conscious of what they might come to learn on tomorrow's supply run, but to his relief they didn't talk about it straight away. There was a lot to think about…it might not even be a good idea to go. Perhaps they should make an excuse, feign illness. He needed to think about it first.

"I know we agreed to leave things for now," Michonne began, sipping at the last of her coffee. "But one of us should go."

With the binoculars raised to his eyes, Rick was scanning the distance, glad to see that a cluster of Walkers had broken up and were dispersing. "I agree," he said, and not lightly either. "They gave the invitation…they must be ready to bring us in."

Despite their agreement there still remained some tension, uncertainty. They truly had no idea what they were going to face.

"I'll go," Michonne stated, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "You stay here with Carl."

His first thought was to debate the matter a little, perhaps see about the both of them going rather than only one, but on this occasion he conceded to her judgement. Knowing they had the rest of the day to mull it over, that they'd have Daryl and Rosita to discuss it with also. Satisfied of that much they settled back into the normal routine of the shift, and despite the cold start he could tell already that it was going to be a nice day. Perhaps he wouldn't suggest that Carl go to school that day, perhaps they'd spend some time together in one of the gardens, a lazy afternoon spent pulling weeds and fertilising. It had been a while since they had done that together, and frankly with Carl's busy social life they hadn't spent much time together in the Kingdom.

"Be on alert, two live ones have just arrived at Canning's Carpet Court. They're proceeding on foot. Should we engage?"

Chuck's unexpected radio call had Rick and Michonne's attention instantly, and with a quick glance at one another they got to their feet. Suspecting what this was he reached for the radio, knowing the Kingdomers were likely to overreact.

"What's their description?

There was a pause and then Chuck described them. "A woman with dark hair and a baseball cap. A guy had dark hair too, and a crossbow. They're-"

"They're my people," Rick cut him off, the description fitting Rosita and Daryl. He glanced at Michonne, both of them questioning why they would be over four hours early for today's meeting. "Let them come."

"That's a negative," Martine said from her position on the north east post, disliking any change in procedure. "We do not let people this close to the Kingdom unless they have an escort. We should intercept them."

"Do not engage them," Rick said firmly, making himself perfectly clear. He knew the Kingdom had scouts who occasionally went out and laid low in the surrounding areas, and that they may not hesitate to shoot anyone who seemed like a threat. "They are my people, do not engage them. Do you copy?"

"Relationship acknowledged," Chuck assured him. "But we're not letting them approach without an escort. Either I intercept them, or engage them."

Michonne gave an impatient sigh, for on the road behind them Richard had appeared on horseback with two others, making their way towards the gate where they stood on watch. He had arrived quickly with barely a moment's notice that something was amiss. "Go down there and intercept before one of them gets shot."

Agreeing, Rick set his rifle down and quickly descended from the watch post, bracing himself to talk Richard down. The Kingdom were very particular about the way they managed the comings and goings of people in their territory, and it was clear already that he was unhappy already.

"This shit doesn't fly around here," Richard said bluntly, his eyes narrowed in disapproval. "We make a schedule and we stick to it. They're due at noon, not now."

"I know that," he implored him, moving into the centre of the road and forcing the riders to stop. "But if my people are here early then they must have a reason."

"Rick," began Colton, he too looking unhappy. "This isn't how we operate."

"I'll go out there and find out what's going on," Rick said to Richard, appealing to him for reason.

"They're not coming in," added Lou, once a young law clerk who often looked like he had something foul smelling under his nose. "Friends of yours or not. This wasn't prearranged, and we…"

He trailed off as Richard raised his hand for silence, and it was then Rick saw the reason he had eased up. In the distance to their right stood King Ezekiel and Jerry, having come this way to see what all the fuss was about, to oversee whatever decision was made. Even from a distance it seemed Richard and Ezekiel knew how to read one another, and perhaps having received the King's approval he relented.

"Take Tanner," he instructed as he dismounted his horse. "Nev doesn't like you."

"The feeling is mutual," Rick muttered, giving Colton's horse a mistrustful look. He thanked Richard as he ran his hand over Tanner's neck, stroking his withers before mounting him and taking the reigns. He set off at a gentle trot, thanking those who had come forward to open the gate for him. As he passed through he gave Michonne a quick nod before emerging into the world outside, glad to that the Walkers had been sparse today. The air was cold against his face as he made his way down the long road ahead, listening over the radio as others on watch gave him an update on where his people were.

He reached the end of the road and came to a stop in the intersection, and he stayed within Michonne's sight and waited. Fifty yards away were Rosita and Daryl on foot, and he returned their wave of greeting but didn't hasten to meet with them. Instead he let them come to him, feeling nervous tension start to grow within him with every moment he was forced to wait. They were over four hours early, and there would only be a few reasons for that.

"How did you know we were here?" Rosita called out as they drew nearer.

"The Kingdom send scouts out every day. They saw you arrive."

"You one o' them now?" Daryl asked, gesturing to the body armour Rick was wearing. "Been drinkin' the Kool Aid?"

Confident that Tanner wouldn't startle and run off, Rick carefully dismounted him. "It's about fitting in," he explained, welcoming Rosita with a swift hug. He turned to Daryl now and did the same, catching a glimpse of his strained expression, one that told him that his suspicions were right. All was not well. He looked at him a moment longer, trying to gauge the problem, and then he could wait no longer. "Who died?"

The silent pause as Rosita and Daryl glanced at one another was excruciating, but to his relief they didn't make him wait for too long. Daryl cleared his throat, restlessly readjusting the crossbow he carried, the one that belonged to Carl.

"Spencer."

* * *

It felt eerie and somber inside the dimly lit warehouse, the only illumination coming from the streams of light that passed through the clear panels in the building's roof. Taking a moment for himself, Rick looked up at the ceiling where the light shone through, noticing the dust particles in the air, the way they slowly floated about. It was a mesmerising sight, allowing him to let his mind wander for a few moments, needing to take a little time for himself.

Concerned that he was wasting time, Rick wandered back to the place he was meant to be focused on, the heel of his boots echoing on the metal floor of the second floor mezzanine. Slumped face down was the Walker that had taken Spencer by surprise, it's head and one arm dangling over the edge, the pool of blood having stopped flowing many hours ago. Though he didn't want to, Rick came right over to the place Daryl had pointed out to him, roughly three feet to the left of the Walker. It was there he stood for a few moments, observing the floor and safety railing where the dust had been disturbed in the scuffle. Coming closer, he placed his hands on the cold metal rail and then slowly looked over the edge.

This was where Spencer had fallen. A Walker had taken him unawares, there was a scuffle, and he went over the railing sixty feet to the concrete floor below. He had struck the first floor mezzanine on the way down, they had all heard the clang of the metal, and a split second later the sickening crunch when he hit the floor. As he looked down at the long drop Rick felt himself sway for a moment, a sudden moment of vertigo taking him by surprise. Releasing the safety rail from his hands he stepped back a few feet and observed it's height, picturing Spencer standing adjacent. All in all it was perfectly plausible. There were many aisles on the upper mezzanine in which a Walker could be lurking, and there wasn't much clearance between them and the sixty foot drop to the floor below. Someone was as tall as Spencer would have easily lost their balance had they found themselves backed up against the rail, particularly fighting off a Walker. He had lost his balance and fallen, it was that simple.

According to Vetor, at least.

"You heard nothing before he fell?" Rick asked, for the third time so far.

Sitting atop the metal staircase, Daryl had his back to him and his shoulders hunched over, smoking a cigarette that he seemed to really need today. "Nothin'. Heard him hit the rail below, and then…then he hit the floor."

Rick didn't say anything, unsure of what to make of all this. It was unusual for someone to not cry out or yell for help as they took on an unexpected attack from a Walker, to not make a sound as they fell from a great height. Unusual, but not impossible. He might have been out of breath, too panicked to cry out, struck in the stomach during the struggle against the Walker…or by someone else. Rick knew what Daryl suspected, he knew that he suspected the same too, but there was no evidence of it. Vetor had been unharmed but as equally upset and distraught as the rest of them. Already Rick had quizzed Daryl on everything he could think of. Was Vetor hurt at all, even something minor? A scratch on his face? Blemish of his hand, his neck? A bruise that wasn't there before he and Spencer went to scavenge alone on the uppermost mezzanine? But according to Daryl he hadn't noticed anything unusual, and he had made a point of looking.

The only thing Rick could think of was Spencer's body, that maybe there might be a sign he had fought against something other than a Walker. Fresh blood under his fingernails? A broken finger or bruised knuckle? There was still time for Rick to look over his body. He hadn't been buried yet, his body lovingly wrapped in a sheet and waiting in Gabriel's church before his burial later. That was why Daryl and Rosita had come to the Kingdom early, for they didn't want to wait any longer than necessary. Spencer would be laid to rest that afternoon, beside his parents and brother.

"Between you and me," Rick began softly, still looking at the Walker that lay dead. "What do you think happened?"

"Vetor done it," he grunted, without a moment of hesitation. "He's the one who suggested we split up the way we did. Said there was more room to cover downstairs, so we should take three. He and Spencer went up, Lana, Glenn and me stayed down. It was him."

It was at this that Rick allowed himself a small moment of relief. It wasn't Daryl who had died, it wasn't Glenn who would leave behind his wife and newborn son…but it was only a small comfort. Deanna's last remaining family member was gone, another family in Alexandria completely wiped out.

Spencer had not regained consciousness after his fall. The run crew had done everything they could to get him back to Alexandria in a mere ten minutes, and though he made it there with a beating heart, Rosita had made the difficult call to not perform CPR. His pupils were fixed and dilated, his injuries extensive and breathing sporadic. There was nothing anyone could do for him, even if they had the best doctor in the country available to them. Having made the difficult decision Rosita simply called for Gabriel, and Spencer made it another twenty minutes before his shallows breaths ceased all together. They allowed him to die at home just as Deanna had, this being perhaps the only thing they could do for him.

Not wanting to stay any longer than they had to, Rick ushered Daryl to his feet and together they left. He didn't need to see anymore of the scene, and he didn't want to linger down at the spot where Spencer had landed. The smear of blood on the concrete floor was deceptively small, not at all representative of the catastrophic injuries he had sustained. When things had settled the run crew would return to this warehouse again, to finish what yesterday's events been left unfinished. Even though Rick had to brace himself and turn up the collar of his jacket against the cool December weather it was a relief to be outside. It felt eerie inside that warehouse, to be at the scene where someone he knew had died.

Patiently waiting outside in the parking lot were Rosita, Denise, Brea, Colton, Michonne and Carl, the latter of who Rick had been reluctant to bring with him that day. He was returning home to Alexandria for at least a day, maybe two depending on what things were like back there, and his preference would have been for Carl to stay in the Kingdom under the supervision of Mak and Brea. But Carl had refused all requests to stay back, insisting that he be allowed to go and pay his respects to Spencer. Rick had tried to appease him, assuring him that he didn't have to attend the funeral in order to pay his respects, but he wouldn't hear a word. It was only at Brea's offer to come with them that Rick relented. Brea would be coming not only to be there should Carl need her, but so that she could meet the Alexandrians, so she could look in on Carrie's pregnancy and check on baby Herschel. With her came Colton too, the Kingdom unwilling to allow one of their people to travel to a stranger's community without an escort. It had taken some negotiations on Rick's part to get this over the line, for Ezekiel hadn't seemed to keen on the idea at first, but to his surprise Richard had given his support. It hadn't taken much either, and he was surprised that Richard was only sending one of his people to accompany Brea. Perhaps he trusted Alexandria more than he let on.

As Rick and Daryl exited the warehouse, the group waiting for them began returning to their vehicles, of which there were three. It was a natural inclination that Colton and Brea would want to ensure they had their own transport to and from Alexandria, and with their numbers combined with certain cargo they opted to take three. While Colton, Brea and Denise got into the Kingdom's rusted sedan, Rosita, Michonne and Carl rode in the green Hyundai. Rick and Daryl on the other hand took a delivery van loaned to them from the Kingdom, the lack of seating allowing them the privacy to talk.

"Go with Michonne, please," Rick said to Carl, suspected that he was going to ask to ride with he and Daryl.

He seemed disappointed, but did as he was asked without question. Lingering for a moment Carl looked at the warehouse, perhaps still wanting to go inside. Rick had refused that request, not only so that he and Daryl could talk in private, but because it wasn't necessary…he hadn't known what kind of scene he was going to find in there. Carl didn't need to see it.

"How far out are we?" Colton asked, the map in his hand indicating that he was keeping track of their location and route.

It had occurred of course that although he had told the Kingdom they were from Alexandria, he was now inviting two of them inside the gates, showing them everything they had at their disposal, showing them their strengths and weaknesses.

"Thirty minutes," he answered. "We'll turn off on Redding Road."

Colton nodded and then returned to his vehicle, apparently satisfied with the extent to which Rick wasn't trying to hide things from him. As he watched him joining Brea and Denise in the car, he once again wondered why Richard had been so lax as to only send one escort for Brea, only one person to protect her should something go array. His suspicions were growing, particularly as he recalled the invitation for he or Michonne to join Richard on a supply run tomorrow. Was that why he had sent only Colton to Alexandria? Was strength in numbers more important on the supply run tomorrow than in Alexandria? Was it even a supply run at all?

As he usually was, Rick was the last one to get into his respective vehicle, joining Daryl only when the others had started their engines. They pulled out in a prearranged formation, Rosita taking the lead with Colton following her, and then Daryl and Rick bringing up the rear. As they began to depart he quickly took his seat and slammed the door shut, and then immediately wished he had taken a bigger breath of air. The delivery van reeked of feathers and chicken shit, their precious cargo of a dozen hens unhappily fussing in the back. In a cage between he and Daryl was the rooster Hyde, his cage covered in a blanket to help keep him quiet and happy, a strategy that was only half effective.

"This little asshole tried to bite me," Daryl swore as he pulled the van out of the parking lot, following Colton's truck at a safe distance. "You believe that?"

Rick smiled, daring to lift the blanket and check on the rooster. Like usual, it looked particularly sour and angry at the world. "He also has a tendency for chasing people."

"Chasing people, huh? Like who?"

"It happened to a friend," he answered, trailing off into a laugh. He needed it…he needed the laugh. "I went into the coop to change the water, then it was like a fucking blitzkrieg. You're right, he is an asshole."

"Why we bringing him back then?" Daryl asked, laughing at Rick's expense.

"He's a ladies man," he answered. "As long as he has his way with a couple of hens, he'll be worth it. Besides, I think the Kingdom were glad to get rid of him."

"He sounds like a real catch. What we paying them for all these?" he asked, gesturing into the back.

"Nothing."

"From the goodness of their hearts, huh?"

"Apparently so."

"And the cows? What about them?"

"They're not to keep, we're only cow sitting. Meatloaf doesn't get much time with the heifers, so they're hoping that separating him from PeeWee will help. We get a cow pregnant and send her back to the Kingdom. We get fresh milk in the meantime."

"Still," Daryl began uncomfortably. "It's a lot of favours for not much in return…what they gonna ask us for when they got us under the thumb?"

"I don't know," he asked, this worry having lingered in the back of his mind. "For now it's all a gentleman's agreement, and they're holding up their end."

There was silence now, but unlike any other time the silence between them was heavy with unspoken words, the magnitude of Spencer's death weighing heavily on them both. As they drove Rick watched Daryl from the corner of his eye, worried about his demeanour. What happened yesterday would have been awful, hearing that sickening sound of someone falling and hitting the ground. Rick had heard that once before the world ended, a construction accident that just happened to be caught on camera. Even on video the thud of a human being hitting the ground was sickening, and he still remembered it, the sound still making his stomach turn. He couldn't imagine how much worse it would have been to hear that in person, to rush over and find Spencer laying there, to be unable to help him.

"Are you doing alright?" Rick asked, nonchalantly so that Daryl didn't avoid it.

To his relief Daryl didn't try brushing off the question, and after a few moments he gave an awkward sort of nod. He was alright…or at least he was trying to be. As he drove he flexed his hands on the steering wheel, his left knee bouncing restlessly. Wondering if he was going to say something, Rick allowed the silence to lapse and went back to looking out the window. A short while later Daryl spoke up, his voice low and laced with trepidation.

"I gotta tell you somethin'. Somethin' you ain't gonna like."

Bracing himself, Rick took a slow breath. "You find more strays that need feeding?" he asked, conscious that Aaron and Daryl had put recruiting on hold while Rick was away.

Daryl shook his head, looking increasingly uncomfortable. "Nah…I, uh…while you were gone, I took up with Lana."

"What exactly does that mean?" Rick asked in surprise, though not certain he knew what he meant.

"We been fooling around a bit. I'm screwin' her," he concluded bluntly.

Rick pursed his lips, unsure of how to react. He glanced back out the window and resisted the urge to clench his hands into fists, collecting his thoughts before responding. He certainly had his opinions about what Daryl had just told him, opinions about Lana and the drama that could ensue…the drama that had already ensued yesterday.

"Good for you," he finally said, settling on being supportive.

Surprised, Daryl seemed to release a breath he had been holding. "You ain't mad?"

"About what?"

"Come on man, we both know what that girl's doing," he said, acknowledging the elephant in the room. "We both know why she took up with Spencer, why she took up with me. She's trying to make _him_ jealous."

Rick nodded, glad that Daryl could see this complication. "Yes, she is."

"Well, I reckon it worked," he muttered in disdain, looking back at the road.

"You think that's enough motive?" Rick asked. "Lana and Spencer?"

Daryl just scoffed. "Men been killing each other over pussy for thousands o' years. Why's now any different?"

"That's true." There was a brief pause now, Rick mulling it all over. "If you knew she was playing you, why bother with her?"

Tearing his eyes away from the road, Daryl glanced at him incredulously. "Why'd I do her? Because she's got a pulse and wanted it. Besides, Merle did always to tell me to make sure I switched hands…I figured I'd give 'em both a rest."

Unable to help himself, Rick started to laugh. For a few happy moments he and Daryl were just two friends, laughing and celebrating the other finally breaking a dry spell. He needed those few moments, the opportunity to laugh like just the good old days. It was moments like this that made the darker times bearable.

"Man that day, she just came outta nowhere with it. Just came onto me. What was I supposed to do?"

"I bet you put up one hell of a fight."

"No man, I didn't fight it at all," he confessed. "I ain't ever seen tits so perfect in my whole damn life. There was no fighten' them once they were out."

Rick paused, hesitating before asking the next question he just couldn't resist. "What was it like with her?"

Being a good sport, Daryl lifted one hand from the steering wheel and raised it to his head, mimicking an explosion. He grinned now, allowing Rick a glimpse of the way his eyes were lighting up. "Best lay I ever had. Bent her over the dining table, did her right there."

"Our table? Where our family eats?

Daryl laughed uproariously. "Please, like you and Carrie ain't already disgraced that table."

Rick laughed in good spirit, agreeing. "You leave one ass print, and you're never forgiven."

"You two have screwed on every surface of that house you can reach. Including my bed!" he accused. "And Carl's."

"Technically, it was Carrie's bed at the time," he said, having neglected to mention that was where the baby had been conceived. "And to be fair, I did flip the mattress before he moved in."

Daryl just shook his head in disdain. "So you ain't denying that you laid your turf on my bed?"

"I'm not denying that at all," he smirked with pride. "Turf was laid."

"Just fucking remember, karma's a bitch."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," he muttered, suddenly rather feeling rather mistrustful. "So it was just the one time with Lana?"

Daryl hesitated, and just like when he was catching Carl in a lie, Rick knew the answer before he said it. "No…a bit more than once."

"So you're still seeing her?"

This time Daryl shrugged, looking uncomfortable again. "I dunno man…I ain't been the one chasin' tail, alright? She been comin' to me when she wants it. Dunno when she'll be back looking for more. Might be better for all us if she don't," he added, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. "She might be more drama than I need."

Rick nodded, agreeing with him. "Like it or not, you're cutting another man's grass. You need to be careful with this."

Daryl's argument was swift. "Ain't his grass though. He's made that clear. He'll fuck her, but he don't want her."

"I know."

"But he don't want no one else to have her either. That ain't reasonable."

"It might be unreasonable, but it's probably the way he thinks. To him, you're cutting his grass just like Spencer was. I want you to be careful."

Getting the hint Daryl nodded, but he still looked unhappy with it. "Probably for the best, I suppose. I'm almost twice her age."

"That bother you?"

He shrugged. "Dunno…a little."

"She's young," he agreed. "But you're not taking advantage of her."

This time Daryl didn't say anything, his affect low as they continued making their way to Alexandria. As they drew closer and then made their final turn towards home Rick broke the silence that had fallen.

"What's it like back there?"

Daryl didn't answer straight away, mulling over his thoughts. "What you'd expect…everyone's glad you're coming back."

"And Vetor and Lana? What's it like between them?" he asked, knowing that Abraham and Daryl would have been listening to the bugs planted to overhear the fallout of Spencer's death.

"Tense."

Trusting that had Vetor said anything incriminating Daryl would have already told him, Rick accepted this answer. It was nothing more than what he already expected to be going on between Lana and Vetor. For now he tried to put them out of his mind, to focus instead on the immediate future. Already Rosita had announced their imminent arrival over the radios, and no doubt their families would be rushing to meet them at the southern gate, to welcome them home after two weeks away. Focusing on that he allowed himself to feel glad that he was coming home, happy in spite of the circumstances that brought him here. They road they travelled was as familiar as the back of his hand, and he recognised every twist and turn they made, knowing the exact moment he would see the walls of Alexandria ahead of him. When they appeared he let out a long breath, a small part of him having wondered if it was all really there, questioning if it was too good to be true.

Indeed there was a crowd, and when he stepped out of the car he was automatically looking for two certain people. Maggie and Glenn were the first he saw, and he gave them each a quick hug before looking into the stroller where Herschel happily lay, glad to receive a smile from the baby who was still so young and tiny. But he didn't linger, and instead made his way towards the first car where he could see Carrie and Carl reuniting. She released him from a long hug and then passed Judith over, the little girl squealing in delight to see her big brother. It was then that Carrie looked up and saw him approaching, her features warming with a smile that he quickly returned.

He didn't know why he had been expecting something different, that something terrible had happened in his absence, and it was a relief to see that Carrie looked exactly as he had seen her two weeks ago. The motion of moving into one another's embrace was as natural as it had always been. Time, however brief, hadn't changed a thing. Comforted by the ability to hold her in his arms once again Rick pressed his lips to her cheek and held them there, relishing her touch.

"I've missed you," she said kindly, kissing him properly now.

Her words were not an attempt to make him feel guilty for their separation, but only to remind him of her love. Pulling away he looked down at her fondly, but with the circumstances of his return he couldn't bring himself to smile. "I've missed you too."

They shared another brief kiss before separating, and when Judith was passed to him it was impossible not to smile. His heart soared to have his child back in his arms, having spent two weeks trying to ignore the fact that he missed her more than he had prepared himself to. She greeted him with an enormous kiss, laughing uproariously when his stubble scratched against her face, and before he knew it she was trying to grab at it with her fingers. Getting a stark reminder as to why he kept his facial hair shorter these days he looked around at the rest the community. As expected, their happiness to see their leader and group return was dimmed by Spencer's death…this was a huge blow to them all.

"Carol didn't come?" Carrie enquired with disappointment, quick to notice her absence.

Rick shook his head. "She wanted to stay back, keep an eye on things there." In his pack was a letter Carol had written for Tobin, and judging by the way she had made a point of sealing the envelope it was strictly for his eyes only. "I think she wrote Tobin a love letter to tide him over."

Though Carrie managed a small smile at this, Rick knew it was forced. He could see disappointment in her eyes already, but there was no time to dwell on it. Within minutes they were unpacking the cars and preparing to get on with things, with Rick needing to go to the church and pay his respects to Spencer before his burial. But paying his respects and overseeing the funeral arrangements weren't the only thing on his mind today.

Notably absent from any of the welcoming greetings were Vetor and Lana.

* * *

Hi readers! I hope you enjoyed the slice of Kingdom life - please do leave a review with feedback about what you enjoyed (or didn't enjoy), what you're looking forward to, and what you'd like to see in the future. Thanks everyone!


	28. Chapter 28

A/N Well, that was quite the shocker in the mid-season finale 8x08. I'm not entirely sure if I'll include the storyline in this story (it's mostly planned out by now), but until February I'll hold onto the flimsy threads of hope that not all is lost!

Please grab a flashlight, there will be a little foreshadowing in this chapter. Enjoy.

* * *

Mercifully, the bad weather held off for the duration of Spencer's funeral, allowing his community to pay their respects without the threat of cold rain. As it drew to a close they listened as Gabriel said one last prayer, and then they observed a minute of silence. With Judith on her hip Carrie did her best to keep the little girl quiet, whispering encouragement to her, praising her for being so well behaved for the last thirty minutes. Still miraculously silent Judith looked around in exasperation, simply waiting for it to be over. As the silence stretched on Carrie looked around, seeking out one person in particular, but it was difficult to see through the people crowded into their cemetery.

At Gabriel's prompting, Tobin came forward towards the open grave, the oldest friend of Deanna and Reg's being the first to lay soil on top of their son. Marking the conclusion of the funeral some of the Alexandrian's began to return to their homes, while others like Rick and Glenn came forward to help lay Spencer to rest in the earth. There would be no wake held, the community not having enough rations to spare, but it didn't matter. A funeral had been held, their leader had returned at a moment's notice, and Spencer was receiving a dignified burial. These days, that was the full package.

After Carl had paid his respects he relieved her of Judith, wanting to take her home and back into the warmth before she stayed out too long. With everyone else dispersing the crowd thinned enough for Carrie to look around again, and it was then she found Lana. It was no surprise that she was standing out on the street, distant and aloof while she smoked a cigarette. Her body language seemed to convey that she had somewhere better to be, others likely construing this as a cold dismissal of Spencer's death…but Carrie did not. She observed her from the corner of her eye, watching as she stared at the walls guarding their home. Shrouded in a heavy coat that kept her warm it was particularly saddening to see her standing there alone, no one by her side.

"Do you want a moment?" Rick asked gently, touching his hand to hers now that he had returned to her.

Figuring Lana was waiting for privacy before paying her respects to Spencer, she shook her head and slipped her hand into his. She had only been waiting for him, watching as he and the others respectfully buried Spencer in the grave next to his parents and brother. There was nothing else here for her right now, and with that they fell into step alongside one another as they returned home. By now Judith would be getting hungry, eager to take her bath and be read to sleep by Rick, a request she had made three times already. Like every other time someone died, life continued on regardless.

"Are you alright?" Rick asked quietly, entwining their fingers as they walked.

Carrie nodded, the reaction automatic. They were walking slowly, the sound of her high heels against the asphalt less satisfying to listen to given their pace. "Just sad," she answered, feeling that was the only way to describe what she felt.

In agreement, Rick squeezed her hand affectionately, rubbing his thumb against her skin. Spencer's death had taken them all by surprise, for not only was it completely unexpected, it had been the first in a while. Since the Wolves attacked and the herd broke out the only death Alexandria had suffered was Bob's, a death that had frankly come as a relief to them. They could see his pain, the look of hopelessness in his eyes that followed the death of Natalie. He hadn't want to live much longer without his wife, and had died peacefully in his sleep at home. His death was discovered early the next morning, so early that he hadn't even turned yet. To the community it hadn't been a surprise, it had brought them a small sense of relief that his suffering was over. Now that Spencer had died, it was a harsh reminder that death wasn't always a relief for someone, that it came out of no where, that it was cruel and unfair…had they started to forget that?

This had hardly been the reunion with her husband and step-son that Carrie had longed for. Rick and Carl were supposed to come home at Christmas time, at a time when they could celebrate and be glad they were with their families. It was a cruel twist of fate that it was death that brought them back, that Carrie felt guilty for wanting to be glad. How could she look forward to spending the night with her husband when the only reason they could was that someone had died? It had been a bittersweet moment when she met him at the gates a few hours ago, disappointing that she couldn't smile and celebrate their return. Regardless, she was glad he had come home. They had discussed the possibility of not telling Rick that Spencer had died, of keeping this from him so that he would remain at the Kingdom for as long as Carl needed to stay. Ultimately, Carrie was glad they had told him, glad that he had come home to be with the community. He was their leader, and they needed him in these moments.

It had been a difficult twenty four hours for everyone, for Spencer had been a part of this community since its very inception. He was Deanna's last remaining relative, the last of the Monroe line…another family had been wiped out completely. Over the coming days people like Carrie were going to have to take on a task that none would relish, that of going through the Monroe's townhouse to vacate it of all personal possessions. They would disperse personal belongings among those who would appreciate them the most, take inventory of what was left and return anything useful to the Pantry. It was what they had to do at David and Betsy's house, at Jessie's. In time the Monroe's townhouse would be void of all personal possessions, ready for the next family to come in and make it their home. That was the part that Carrie had struggled with when it came to emptying someone's house, the idea of picturing someone else there. How were they going to do that with Deanna? That home belonged to their leader…how long would it take before it didn't feel like hers anymore?

As they tended to in small communities, rumours had started up again. Everyone knew that Lana and Spencer had been sleeping together, they had enjoyed flaunting it all over the place as young lovers tended to do. But the tumultuous relationship with Vetor was also common knowledge. That combined with the news that Vetor had been paired with Spencer when he died had set tongues wagging. Personally it was one rumour that Carrie thought might actually have some truth behind it. She knew what she suspected, and she figured Rick thought the same. Somehow, Vetor was responsible for this. He had played a role in Spencer's demise, he must have. Anything could have been done to facilitate his death. A purposeful delay in coming to his aid, setting the Walker onto him in the first place…he could have even outright pushed him. Vetor had known that Lana and Spencer were sleeping together, and although he maintained the perception of indifference maybe that wasn't the case. Was it jealousy, or a cruel way keeping Lana to himself? If that was the case, what did that mean for Daryl? Did Rick know what was going on with them?

Since their return from the supply run, Carrie had been keeping Lana in her thoughts, concerned not just about the toll of losing a member of the run crew, but to scrutinise her. When it became clear that Rosita had made the difficult call not to try and save him Lana had erupted into a frenzy, screaming at them to do something, to help Spencer at any cost. But when things died down her behaviour took a turn in the opposite direction, and since then she had become devoid of emotion, her features set in an impatient scowl. She hadn't spoken to anyone, hadn't joined Gabriel's church service and prayer group last night…she'd hidden herself away and stayed there.

Though they hadn't rushed in no time at all they were home, and Carrie could see the moment Rick breathed a sigh of relief. Aside from a quick stop to change into something more appropriate for the funeral he hadn't been home at all, hadn't had the opportunity to put his feet up or relish being with his family. As they removed their coats and put their guns away she watched as his features started to relax a little, the tension and stress fading from his eyes as he looked to the kitchen cupboard where they kept the whiskey.

"I'll make you a drink," she offered, wanting to fuss over him for once. Before he went to the Kingdom it had been him fussing over her, but today she didn't mind returning the favour.

He thanked her with a kiss on the cheek, and as he waited he headed into the living room and lowered himself onto the floor where Carl and Judith were playing. She could picture him falling asleep on the couch that night, his eyelids fluttering closed until someone roused him. He would steadfastly deny being asleep, insisting instead that he had just been resting his eye and rejecting their assertions that he had been snoring.

The next few hours passed just like any other night, just a little more sombre and reserved. They ate together as a family, Judith making a mess of herself while Daryl's meal was delivered to him on the watch post. Tonight they had indulged just a little, enjoying the food Chef had sent them all the way from the Kingdom, their little effort to ensure Carrie had plenty to eat. It was nice simply being together, even with the spectre of Spencer's death and Carol's absence from the returning travellers. Though it was a task she enjoyed, tonight she let Rick take over the bath and bedtime routine with Judith, knowing he would have missed it despite his general dislike of reading aloud. He had happily swept Judith out of her messy highchair and whisked her away upstairs, and it was almost an hour and a half before Carrie finally went in search of them. As expected, she found them together in Judith's bedroom, and at the sight before her she wasn't even disappointed that she had missed out on her goodnight kiss.

Her heart warmed to find her husband stretched out on the bed beside Judith, one leg hanging off the bed with two books laying open against his chest. She could imaging him reading until the both of them fell asleep, his tiredness getting the better of him in a weak moment. Though she hated to disturb him the awkward angle of his head compelled her to, for she wanted him to get a good night's sleep…preferably beside her. Setting the books onto the nightstand she gently roused him, watching as his eyes flickered open with a frown. With a heavy sigh he lifted his head and looked at Judith beside him, glad to see she was fast asleep. Forcing himself to get up he straightened the blankets and then kissed his daughter goodnight.

"Thanks," he muttered, rubbing his eyes as he pulled the door halfway closed. "What's Carl doing?"

"He's downstairs reading. I'm going to take a bath and then go to bed."

"That sounds good," he said quietly, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. "Leave room for me."

Carrie smiled as he went back downstairs, pleasantly surprised by his request. He'd only joined her in the bath once before, and that had been only with the agreement that he could feel her up. Looking forward to it she headed back into their bathroom where she was already filling the tub, adding some bath salts and then bubbles just for the hell of it. She waited for him a few minutes and then began to undress, gratefully taking off her clothes and twisting her hair into a bun on the top of her head. As she waited she lit a couple of candles and then dimmed the lights, and had just climbed into the tub as he entered their bedroom. It had been nice spending the evening at home with him, but twice as good watching him bustling around their room as though it were any other night.

"I spoke to Brea and Denise today," she said when he came into the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt. "They can see us tomorrow for a check up, ten o'clock."

"Good. Should we bring Carl with us again?"

Carrie nodded. "I think he'd like that."

As she swirled the bathwater around to dissolve the salts she watched as he continued to undress, not bothered by the lazy way he discarded his clothing towards the hamper rather than putting it in. She had missed these little things, had missed admonishing him for being untidy or leaving his toothbrush on the sink…it was something for her to look forward to in the morning.

"What happened there?" she asked, gesturing to a yellow bruise on his side.

"I had a disagreement with a horse. He won."

She cringed in sympathy, but quickly relaxed her features when he leant down to her. Brushing the loose tendrils of hair from her shoulder he kissed the side of her neck, allowing his lips to linger there before moving on. They kissed properly now, Carrie smiling against his lips when his short beard ticked her nose. She moved forward in the tub to make room for him, making a point of looking him up and down as he got in behind her. Spending a few moments getting comfortable they made a point of enjoying one another's touch, Carrie rubbing her hands down his legs when he stretched them out either side of her. It felt like she'd never truly appreciated him, that she'd never paid attention to the simple things like shape of his knees or the colour of his birth mark. With the tap still running the water level continued to rise, warming them as she leant back against his chest with his arms encircling her. The touch of his body against hers felt so right, coming as naturally as it had the day they parted ways two weeks ago.

"You looked nice today."

"Thank you," she replied softly, appreciating the compliment. Cupping his hand in the water he brought it up and then let it run over the front of her chest, warming her skin before he gently stroked his fingers over her breasts. It was a lovely sensation, one that made her sigh in longing…God, how she had missed him.

"How long are you staying?" she asked, thinking about Brea and Denise. The two doctors seemed to be fully booked with appointments all of tomorrow, so they had to be staying at least another night.

"A couple of days at least. Colton said we came all this way, we should make the most of it." There was silence for a few moments, his fingers skirting around her nipples before coming to a stop. "Oh Mrs Grimes, please contain your enthusiasm."

Carrie gave a light laugh, having not meant for him to think she was unhappy. She turned her head and looked up at him with a warm smile, and when she couldn't easily reached his lips she pressed a kiss to the front of his shoulder instead. "I'm glad you're staying. I'm glad Brea came so that Carl could too."

Nodding in agreement, Rick's fingers resumed their former occupation. "The Kingdom's been good to us. They didn't hesitate to let Brea come, Colton volunteered to escort her…and Carl's getting everything he needs."

"Is he happy there?" she asked. "He seems different in a way…a good different."

"He's enjoying himself. You wouldn't think he was there for medical treatment. He's got a job washing dishes for Chef, he's made friends, he goes to their school. Things are good."

"I'm glad," she began, hesitating before bringing up the next subject. She didn't want him to know how much she had him, how stir crazy and restless she was feeling in Alexandria…it would only make it harder for him to leave again. "I was thinking about Christmas the other day. If Carl has to have surgery again, maybe he shouldn't travel. Maybe I should come to the Kingdom for Christmas."

There was a long pause now, the type she had dreaded. She knew immediately what his answer was going to be, and she tried not to feel disappointed. She had to keep her expectations realistic.

"What about Judith?"

"She could come with me," she suggested weakly, though she knew he would never go for it. Hell, she wouldn't go for it in his position. The last thing they wanted was to risk getting stranded out there with a small baby…he never wanted his children in that position again.

"I think we shouldn't be getting too comfortable there," he said, his tone apologetic.

"You just said things were going well."

"They are, but I don't want us getting comfortable. When Carl's done with his treatment, things need to go back to the way they were. A trade relationship, nothing more."

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed, though she got the feeling there was something more to say.

"He and I will come home for Christmas," he assured her. "Our first Christmas together. We'll decorate the house, eat until we're ready to burst…make love under the tree."

Unable to help it, Carrie smiled as she turned her head and looked up at him. "Just like our Christmas in July. Are you going to wear the Santa hat again?"

"I'll wear whatever you want, so long as you're only wearing tinsel."

An amused laugh escaped her throat, the sensation boosting her mood. Moving carefully in the water she sat up so she could kiss him properly, relishing the moment despite the awkward way she contorted herself.

"No to the hat, but yes to the tinsel," she instructed, slightly less disappointed that he hadn't approved of her suggestion to go to the Kingdom. She would still keep her expectations realistic, for if Carl needed surgery right before Christmas he wouldn't be able to travel…if that had to be the case, then they would put his health ahead of a holiday, even if it was their first together.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

He was squirming around, paying less attention to her than she felt he should. "It's these damn bath salts," he complained, pulling a face of discontent. "They're going places they shouldn't."

Eager to put a stop to his complaints she searched in the water for his hands and then seized them, bringing them up and placing one on each of her breasts. "Quit your complaining and play with these these."

He chuckled at her, but did as instructed without complaint. Closing her eyes she relaxed back against his chest, giving a content sigh as she enjoyed his touch. He languidly rubbed his hands over her, slowly moving down to massage her sides before stroking the curve of her belly. It was there they lingered the longest, making her wonder if he could feel the tumbling sensation that she could.

"We've only got three and a half months left."

He shook his head. "Longer than that."

"No. I'm twenty six weeks now. That leaves fourteen weeks to go…three and a half months."

At this Rick's arms around her seemed to tense, though only for a moment. "It's creeping up on us. It'll be here before we know it."

"Yeah," she smiled, feeling an increasingly frequent surge of excitement. She turned her head to look up at him, taking the opportunity to press her lips to the front of his chest. "I'm excited. God knows I wasn't at the start…but I am now."

"Me too." There was a pause before he continued, and when he spoke he seemed a little hesitant. "I would have suggested this eventually. It had crossed my mind more than once."

"Oh I know," she assured him. Feeling particularly affectionate towards him she settled her hands onto his legs beside her, trailing her fingers up over his knees. "It was written all over your face when Herschel was born."

Though their conversation lapsed the atmosphere did not, and without delay Rick's hands were back on the roam just as she wanted. Quickly enough they both had one thing on their minds, having been looking forward to this for two weeks now. She felt him lightly kissing her neck, his breath warming the skin while his beard tickled, making her shudder in his arms. Gripping the sides of the bathtub she slowly pulled herself away from his chest, the deep water sloshing back and forth as she slowly turned around to face him. The tub was plenty big enough for the two of them, it's somewhat narrow length necessitating she drape her legs over his. It was exactly the right thing to do, allowing him to pull her against him once more as they indulged in a sensual kiss. She melted into him, one hand draped over his shoulder while the other stroked his jaw, not letting him pull away.

"I wish we could have taken a honeymoon," she sighed wistfully, bringing her lips to his.

"Come on, now. I took you to the Kingdom."

She chuckled, brushing her lips over his beard. "Nice try, but that doesn't count."

"Where would we have gone?" As he spoke he was lowering his hands down her back, spreading his fingers as he settled them on her ass. Though it was subtle she could feel him bringing her closer, and before she knew it she was pressed right up against him, exactly where she wanted to be.

"To the Maldives, of course. On a private yacht… _our_ private yacht."

He pulled her closer again, the water sloshing about as he rocked up against her with a soft groan. "Would I get to be the Captain?"

"Of course. But you'd have to wear the hat."

They kissed now, taking their time with one another even though it became increasingly difficult to hold back. She slipped her tongue past his lips, craving more of him, wanting him all at once. Being with him again was intoxicating, allowing her to forget all her worries and fears, to find comfort and excitement both at the same time. Though he was trying to take this slowly, to enjoy one another, Carrie felt there was sufficient time for that later, for they had all night to spend together. Breathlessly she pulled away and removed her legs from around him, enjoying the way he looked at her in confused disappointment.

"Get up," she instructed, trying to catch her breath as she awkwardly pulled herself up onto her knees. "On the edge."

Understanding completely he hastened to obey, and when he sat on the edge of the tub he reached down to her. His hands stroked her cheek and neck before wisely choosing to grip the tub instead.

"God, I've missed you," he sighed, echoing her thoughts from earlier.

Reminding him of exactly what else he had been missing, she ran her hands up the inside of his legs, making him lurch his hips towards her. Finally she gave him what he was waiting for, starting first with her hands and then with her lips, her tongue. As she listened and revelled in every sound that escaped his throat she forgot about everything else, losing all her worries about the mess of Spencer, Daryl and Lana, about Carol not coming back. Tonight it was just about them and the sweetness of reunion.

* * *

Thursday, December 11

All too soon it was over, three days having passed more quickly than felt fair. By late Thursday morning the cars were packed with the few belongings they had brought with them, Carl taking with him his skateboard and one other that had belonged to Ron. The latter was a gift for someone at the Kingdom, a girl Rick suspected, and as she watched him loading it into the back of the car Carrie wondered how that would play out with Enid. There was no sign that the two teens had done anything since that kiss they shared a few months ago. Would it bother Enid that Carl might be developing a crush on another girl? Carrie couldn't help but worry about this, for she knew that Enid had asked Rick if she could go with them this time, if she too could spend a little time at the Kingdom. But he had refused her, apologetic even though Carrie knew he didn't mean it. He was sticking to what he said to her the other night, that he didn't want them getting too comfortable at the Kingdom.

Just like the first time they had parted, it was harder for her to say goodbye than she had expected. Her chest was aching as the community congregated down at the gates to farewell them, and this time she knew exactly what she was facing. Lonely nights with the bed to herself, a quiet home that was too clean without Rick and Carl there to make an extra mess…just her and Judith, at least until Daryl deigned to grace them with his presence when hunger struck. But she comforted herself in one respect, for it would only be two weeks until they were reunited again, two weeks until Christmas. Pending Carl's poor health, they would be returning to share the day with them, they would spend the day together as a family.

"Work on the baby's room while I'm gone," he suggested, wanting her to remain occupied in his absence. "Daryl can help you paint, and the crib's easy enough to put together."

Carrie shook her head, not wanting to do any of that without him. "I can wait. Besides, you and I have never put together a flat pack."

At this he appeared skeptical. "You think our marriage needs that test?"

"It'll be character building."

"I have enough character," he argued. "I don't need to build a flat pack with my wife."

When he kissed her goodbye she didn't allow herself to hold on to him, to kiss him again or to ask for one more embrace. She didn't want him to feel guilty for leaving, not when it was so important that Carl be at the Kingdom for as long as necessary. Instead she smiled and told him to drive carefully, to send Carol her love. A few short minutes later they were gone, the convoy of cars swiftly making their way out of the gates and returning to the Kingdom, and Carrie was glad that it was over quickly. Like ripping off a bandaid it hurt at first, but with everything over and done with she simply took a moment to herself before getting on with things. She had places to be today, people to spend time with, chores to do…before she knew it Christmas would be here.

"Thanks for taking her," she said to Olivia as she passed over Judith's back pack. "I really need this."

"It's no problem at all," Olivia assured her, beaming with delight as she took Judith's hand. "She'll occupy herself trying to sweep the pantry."

"Yeah, she likes to think she's helping, even if she's just spreading dirt around," Carrie laughed, crouching down to kiss her on the cheek. "I'll see you later."

Judith frowned, saying something that she understood as a query. "Mom?"

"I'm going to church," she answered, only a half a lie. "Just church."

"Oh," Judith muttered dismissively, quickly deciding she didn't want to join her. "Bye."

Without further ado Judith turned to Olivia and tugged on her hand, babbling at her and completely forgetting about Carrie. Pleased, she quickly made her escape, heading home while the rest of the community did the same thing. Judith had been awake three times last night, ruining any chance she and Rick had for an indulgent night together, to sleep naked and wake up with wandering hands. Today, Carrie needed to take his advice and get out of the house, to spend some time away from Judith and do her own thing.

When she came home to an empty house she didn't dwell on it, simply glancing at the used coffee mugs discarded into the sink despite the dishwasher being less than a foot away. As soon as Rick and Carl were home she could go back to their habits driving her crazy, but for now she would leave the mugs there. With a yoga class scheduled in the church, a building that had to be multi-purpose these days, she went upstairs and changed into her yoga pants and a tee shirt. Appreciating the stretchy waist band, she stepped in front of the mirror and turned side on, admiring the shape of her body. Her belly still wasn't all that big, but it was just big enough for her to be proud of. She rested her hands on it, feeling the bump from her navel ring that she hadn't yet removed. The baby had been frustratingly still this morning, not giving their father and brother one last opportunity to feel them moving. But Carrie could still feel it inside her, enjoying the occasional flutter or whooshing sensation.

Readjusting her bra, one of a few that comfortably fit her right now, she slipped on her sweater and then her coat from the front closet, though she neglected to bother with her gun or knives. Bracing herself she slipped out into the cool December weather and headed off for yoga, her timing meaning that she caught up with Maggie and the others on the way. As they walked she quizzed Maggie on the sling she used to carry Herschel against her chest, admiring the way his eyes darted about as he watched the world go by. He was still a tiny baby, barely four months old by now, still desperately dependent on his mother for survival.

"Eugene, get out!" Rosita ordered as they entered the church to find that it was already occupied. "We've booked the church for an hour and a half."

His protest was swift, and he spun around to challenge them. "As have I. The Mario Kart tournament starts at eleven o'clock sharp, and Gabriel said I can s-"

"Gabriel is too nice," Rosita argued, marching down the aisle. "He doesn't believe that you're here to leer down our shirts."

"That is an outrageous falsehood! Outrageous!" he declared, looking around at everyone else for support. His shoulders slumped when he realised no one believe him. "In the name of full disclosure, I'm also here to leer at your asses. But you know that already, on account of…"

As the two of them started arguing, Rosita cursing at him in Spanish as she hastily cleared away what he had set up, Carrie looked around to see who had come that morning. "Is Lana here?"

"I can't see her," Maggie answered, unrolling her mat as she too looked around. "Ask Mina where she is."

Less than enthused by this idea, for Mina had never been particularly receptive of her, Carrie passed her mat to Maggie. "Can you set me up? I'm going to get her."

Putting her coat back on, Carrie slipped out of the church and left Eugene and Rosita's argument behind, instead bracing herself to visit Lana. The two of them hadn't spoken a word since the morning she left on the ill fated supply run. Lana had been wrapped up in grief and remorse, while Carrie had been more focused on spending time with her family, on worrying about Daryl. In hindsight though she ought to have stopped by, to have checked on Lana. But even as this thought occurred to her Carrie knew why she hadn't done so…a part of her wanted Lana to suffer right now, for her to get some sort of comeuppance for the mess she was trying to drag Daryl into. It was cruel, Carrie knew that…but that didn't change how she felt.

She let herself into the townhouse without knocking, not caring to exercise politeness and respect to Vetor who was at home in the living room. Ignoring he and Mitchell she went straight upstairs to Lana's bedroom, and after taking a deep breath she knocked on the door. She wasn't here to revel in Lana's misery, to goad her for the mistakes she had made.

"What?"

Upon hearing the terse call Carrie opened the door, not taking it to heart when she saw that Lana was disappointed by the identity of her visitor. The moment Carrie stepped inside the smell of smoke and tobacco hit her, forcing her to take a step back and linger in the doorway where the air was fresher. Lana was sitting cross legged in a chair by her open window, leaning against the frame as she smoked a cigarette…judging by the ashtray on the sill it wasn't her first cigarette of the day.

"What do you want?"

Carrie didn't say anything at first, instead just taking in the scene before her. Lana looked like a bonafide train wreck, her face thinner than normal and her skin a pallid grey, and as Carrie looked around it became increasingly clear that she had been self-confined here for days. The bed was a tangle of sheets and blankets, clothing strewn about on the floor and an empty bowl balanced precariously on the nightstand. In the corner the menu screen of a DVD was playing with the sound muted, and tucked under the pillow was the unmistakable fabric of a man's shirt. Looking at it for a moment she wondered which man it belonged to. Vetor, Spencer or Daryl.

It seemed Lana had at least gone to the effort of getting dressed for their workout. Though she sat curled up in the chair by her window she was wearing shorts and a sports bra, showing her enviable figure. Tall and slim, muscles defined but still soft…she had definitely been a swimwear and lingerie model in the old days. But the longer she looked the more she noticed, the side of Lana's torso and stomach glistening with baby oil. Her skin there was still scarred bright pink from her motorcycle accent, the discolouration also evident on her elbow and upper thigh. The scars on her cheekbone and brow were mostly covered with a rushed application of foundation, one she wore daily without fail. To her, having a scar on her body was tormenting, even these days.

Despite the effort she had made to get dressed and apply a little foundation, it didn't appear that Lana had intentions of going any further than the very spot she occupied right now. She made no effort to look up at Carrie, her gaze instead cast on the pleasant view of Alexandria she had from her window.

"Are you coming to yoga?"

"Does it _fuckin_ ' look like it?" Lana rudely retorted.

Carrie bit her tongue, refusing to rise to Lana's temper. "Sort of. You're dressed."

"Then I'm coming, aren't I," she stated, her tone not softening. Despite this she made no indication that she was going to get up, simply bringing the cigarette to her lips and taking a long draw.

"We're starting now, come on." When she received no response Carrie braved the bad smell and entered the room, feeling a bite of impatience. "Come on Lana, you have to get up. Get out of this room."

"I don't have to do anything."

Again Carrie bit her tongue, Lana's petulance and childish opposition grating on her nerves. Trying to empathise with her she came closer again, joining her by the window and then looking out, but her empathy faded when she saw what had Lana's attention. Her view of Alexandria was lovely, and also featured great sight lines to the scaffolding near the south gate. It was there that Daryl and Tobin stood together, discussing a set of plans that had been drawn up for the next phase of the expansion. There was no doubt in her mind which of the two men had captured her attention.

"Lana, what are you doing?" she asked, gesturing to the window.

Taking another long draw on her cigarette, Lana stamped out the butt in the ashtray and then slowly released the smoke from her mouth, her shoulders slumping forward as she finished. "He doesn't want anything to do with me," she said lowly, still watching him from afar. "I went to see him the other day…he acted like he didn't know what I was getting at."

"I thought you were done with him," Carrie said tersely.

"So did I," she muttered, lowering one foot to the floor with a heavy thud. Without the cigarette in her hands she seemed lost now, her fingers strumming against her knee before she reached for the packet and took another. "I've never had a man reject me before. They've never been stupid enough."

"Not even Vetor?"

She didn't answer this. The lighter clicked as she brought it to the end of the cigarette, forcing Carrie to take a step back. "You know…no one believed that he wasn't taking advantage of me. Back then I mean," she added to clarify. "No one believed that I started it, that it was me who wanted it."

"What's that got to do with Daryl?" she asked impatiently, glancing at her watch.

Lana shrugged, using her tongue to move the cigarette up and down between her teeth. "Just _fark_ off, alright? Seriously, just go."

It was thoroughly tempting, Carrie relishing the idea that her obligation to help Lana was relinquished, but she couldn't. No matter how much she resented the mess Lana was creating, no matter how much she would prioritise Daryl over her, Carrie wouldn't completely abandon her. The confrontation they'd had last weekend was still top of mind for her. Lana was surrounded by people, but had no one she could depend on, no one looking out for her. It was the painful truth that Carrie recalled that feeling, the dreadful sense of isolation and the hurt of feeling like no one cared. So instead of leaving she sat down on the end of Lana's bed…she didn't know what she could say to help her, so the gesture alone would have to be enough. As she did this she saw Lana look around, a flash of surprise appearing in her eyes before she quickly turned away.

"I know what everyone's saying," she started lowly, pausing a moment. "It's not true."

"What are they saying?"

"That Vetor killed him. Spencer."

Relieved that she had been the one to bring this up, Carrie pressed onward. "You don't think there's any truth to it?"

"No."

"Any at all?"

"No," Lana snapped, looking at her incredulously. "You're as bad as the rest of them, you know that?"

"I'm sorry," she apologised, though she wasn't. "It's just, it wouldn't surprise me if he did something to him."

"Why? Because I made him jealous?"

"Because I don't think he cares about anyone but himself."

"He cares about me."

Carrie held her tongue, but only for a moment. "He cares about you, only to the extent that you affect him."

At this she was certain she had hit a nerve, for Lana didn't retaliate, she didn't try to argue back. Instead she remained silent, turning away and looking back out the window just like before. Bringing the cigarette to her lips she took a long draw on it, her hand trembling as ash fell onto her leg, but she seemed not to pay attention to it. Though the silence stretched on and they were more and more late to the yoga class Carrie waited patiently, hopeful that she could convince Lana to get out of this room.

"He told me he did it," she admitted, rolling the cigarette between her fingers and thumb. She closely studied it as if it held all the answers. "Whispered it into my ear when he was fucking me that night."

Though she had been braced for it all along, the admission hit Carrie hard. She felt sick to the pit of her stomach, like they had failed Deanna and Reg by not protecting their son from the people they allowed in to this community. "We need to tell Rick," she decided, gauging Lana's reaction. "He'll be at the Kingdom by now, but…" she trailed off awkwardly, Lana's laughter silencing her.

"Please," she said in disdain, bringing the cigarette to her lips and then speaking around it. "I don't _believe_ him."

"You don't believe him because you don't want to believe him. I understand, Lana. I-"

"I don't believe him, because I don't think he'd have the guts to do it," Lana argued, her voice steady with certainty. "He's never killed anyone except as mercy. He's taking credit for a Biter…for an accident. I don't believe him."

"I do. I think he was jealous. He wanted you for himself, so he killed one of the people in the way. I have to tell Rick."

Lana just laughed again, unconcerned. She put her head against the window sill and looked outside again, her gaze falling upon Daryl once more. "Tell him. It won't make any difference. Vetor will deny what he said to me…and I'll deny it too."

At this Carrie got back to her feet, hands clenched by her sides as she held her temper. "Rick won't care what he denies," she said shortly, making herself clear. "None of us will."

"You tell Rick, then he'll throw Vetor out for good. If Vetor gets thrown out, then I go with him."

"No. I won't let you."

At this Lana turned to her, managing an actual smile. "You're sweet, really," she commented, her tone condescending. "But you're not in charge of me. You're not my mum, you're not my big sister. Jesus fucking Christ, we're barely even friends!" she laughed, her eyes lighting up. "You don't get to decide what I do."

"You have a life here," Carrie implored, trying a different tact, to connect with her. "You fought for everything you have, just like I did. You're going to throw that away just to be with someone who doesn't love you?"

Lana turned away, uncaring. "If Vetor goes, then I go. And I hope for your sake we don't have to go…he's more dangerous to you outside these walls than in."

Pausing, Carrie tried to make sense of the latter comment. "What is that supposed to mean? What…was that a threat?"

"An observation," she replied, stubbing the cigarette out into the ash tray. With a great sigh she brought her feet up onto her chair, getting comfortable as she settled in. "He could destroy this place, and you'd never see it coming. You wouldn't even know he did anything."

"And you'd let him do that?" she challenged, feeling angrier with each passing word. "You'd just sit back and let him hurt us?"

"You still think I can influence what he does?"

"You're his leader!"

In an instant Lana's demeanour changed, her beautiful features twisting into a hateful scowl as she snapped. "Like fuck I am!"

"You cal-"

"I haven't been his leader for one fucking day," she angrily shouted, lurching to her feet. As she stood the ashtray fell to the ground, spreading butts and ash all over the carpet. "Not one!"

"You don't have to stay with him," Carrie pressed on, trying to make her listen. "We can protect you from him."

"I don't need to be protected from him," she argued, stepping towards her.

Before either of them could say or do anything else there came a sound from behind Carrie, the bedroom door opening. Instantly the atmosphere changed, and things became deathly silent. There was no need for her to turn around to see who it was, she knew on instinct that it was Vetor, she knew from the look on Lana's face. She recognised that expression, knowing it was one she herself had once worn many times…it came from the pain of loving someone who hurt you, and not yet being ready to face that pain. But one day soon Lana would see things straight, just as Carrie had with Logan.

"I think it's better for you to go," Vetor stated, his voice calm and soft. "Thank you for coming to visit."

Ignoring him, Carrie held Lana's gaze and then slowly came towards her. She couldn't leave without saying one last thing, without offering her a life line. "If you need it," she started lowly, making sure Vetor couldn't hear her. "There's room for you at my house."

Disinterested, Lana just quirked her eyebrow. "In the nursery?"

"We'd make room for you."

When she broke eye contact Carrie held her breath, hoping this was the moment things would change. But her hope was in vain, for a split second later Lana had made her choice. "I think we both know that wouldn't work."

Without waiting a second more she turned away, retreating into her ensuite bathroom and slamming the door shut. There was an awkward pause now, made all the more worse when came the audible click of the lock. Standing there in the middle of Lana's bedroom, a space that clearly showcased her turmoil, Carrie could feel Vetor's eyes fixed on her. He was waiting for her to say or do something, to confront him…but was now the right time?

Unsure of anything, Carrie slowly turned around and looked at him, relieved to see that he had no intentions of trying to intimidate her. Instead he simply lingered patiently in the doorway, his politeness about it all making her briefly question if this was all in Lana's head. He had always seemed so pleasant and mild mannered…was that a facade that came with the territory these days, or was it genuine? Was Lana gas lighting them all?

Without a word Carrie started heading for the door, wanting nothing other than to get the hell out of there, but on her way she passed by the bed and glimpsed the men's shirt stuffed under the pillow. Turning so that Vetor couldn't quite see what she was doing she reached under the pillow to get a better look at the shirt, disappointed to note that she recognised it as Daryl's. Leaving it there she departed, making her way past Vetor and avoiding eye contact, but to her frustration he followed. Accompanying her down the staircase he rubbed the back of his neck, sounding exasperated.

"I'm sorry for her…unkindness," he began, faltering as he sought the right word. "She's been poorly since it happened. She almost didn't make it to the funeral."

"I notice you didn't make it either."

It was at this observation that he paused, and from the corner of her eye she glimpsed the moment that she took him by surprise. "No," he acknowledged. "I offered to take watch so that others could go. Others who knew him better."

At this Carrie said nothing, reluctantly figuring that was plausible. Even for a funeral, Alexandria was never completely without someone on watch. She tried to continue holding her tongue, to simply get the hell out of there and reevaluate her next move, but Vetor started making that harder and harder.

"It pained me, what happened to Spencer. That I couldn't help him…that I couldn't be quicker to his side." When they reached the front door he politely opened it for her, and when she looked him in the eye she almost believed his remorse. "If only I could…"

He trailed off awkwardly, blinking in confusion when Carrie seized the outside door handle and then crossed the threshold. She was looking him in the eye when she wrenched it out of his grip, giving herself the satisfaction of being able to slam it in his face.

* * *

A/N - It's been troubling me that reviews have been declining in recent chapters, and I not only gratefully thank my reviewers, but implore all readers to drop a review. Is there something you're not enjoying? Does it annoy you that I respond to reviews? Am I posting chapters at a bad time or day? Please do let me know if there's an issue that is deterring readers from reviewing.

I'll never be an author who 'holds a chapter ransom' until they achieve a certain number of reviews - you can guarantee that if I miss my weekly postings it's because the chapter isn't ready, not because I'm being petty. That said, please do leave one when you read a chapter, as they're my only form payment - I don't earn a salary for my writing, I don't earn advertising revenue by hosting this on my own website - I only write for my enjoyment and for yours, so please let me know what you enjoy :-) Cheers, and good luck surviving the break until Season 8B!


	29. Chapter 29

A/N Hey readers, thanks for so many reviews, it was reassuring to know that there's nothing in particular that people dislike which has resulted in the reviews.

Yes, Lana is driving us all nuts, as she should be! Totally okay for readers to be sick of her right now! Thankfully Lana is going to bury her head in the sand for a little, which I think she needs.

Without further ado, I introduce the catalyst for the nest 10-15 chapters! It's a long one, so settle in. Cheers everyone.

* * *

Monday December 29

The night was quiet, the residents of the Kingdom having turned in for the night, with the exception of a few stragglers. He too having turned in, Rick pulled the covers off Carl's bed and carried them over to the couch where he was almost asleep. Sprawled out atop a mountain of cushions he had finally managed to get himself comfortable, sleeping with his head propped up and his left forearm cradled against his chest. Concerned about the chill in the air, Rick spread the blanket over him, wanting to be sure he slept through the whole night. He'd had his skin graft only yesterday, and tonight was his first night home with morphine readily available at the click of a button.

"Thanks Dad," he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Do you need anything?" The first night had been spent in the Infirmary under the close supervision of the doctors, but tonight they were in their apartment with Denise close by. "Bathroom? Water?"

"Nuh."

Satisfied that he was okay, Rick dimmed the camping lantern and then joined Carol, Michonne and Denise over at their small table. It was barely seven o'clock in the evening, far too early for them to go to sleep, and so a deck of cards had been dealt. They'd have to keep it quiet in order to not disturb Carl, but they'd pass the time for a couple of hours.

Time was quickly slipping away from Rick's people, with Christmas having recently passed and New Year looming. Although they had made a happy return to Alexandria to be with their family over Christmas it had of course been too brief, Mak allowing Carl to leave his care for two days only. The wounded eye socket was now in such good condition that the surgeon wanted to operate immediately, to get the skin graft over sooner rather than later, but ultimately had agreed to some flexibility. He had seen the disappointment on Carl's face when he learned he couldn't return home to Alexandria, that he would spend Christmas miserable and in pain, confined to the classroom that was his temporary home.

With his surgery deferred and his health good enough to travel again, Rick, Carl, Michonne, Carol and Denise had returned to Alexandria for a brief visit. Despite having only a few minutes of warning over the radios Carrie and Judith had met them at the gates with the rest of the community, ecstatic by their unannounced arrival on Christmas Eve. Until then it had been difficult to know if he would be able to come through on his promise, their reunion determined only by Mak's agreement to defer Carl's treatment. Carrie had greeted him with a long kiss before sweetly whispering into his ear, telling him exactly how he was to be rewarded under the Christmas tree that night.

In their absence she had decorated the house and put up a tree in the living room, draping it in lights, tinsel and baubles, declining Daryl's halfhearted offer to help. Being newlyweds with time to make up for they had spent most of the night under the Christmas tree, curled up together with a blanket to protect them from unexpected interruptions. Between Judith constantly awakening during the night and Carrie's insatiable desire they didn't exactly get a full night of sleep during his short stay, not that either of them were at all bothered. The second trimester of her pregnancy was agreeing well with her, both of them eager to take advantage of one another until it became too burdensome and difficult for her to take him the way she liked the most.

Conscious that they had only limited time together they lazily spent Christmas day as a family, the entire group congregating at Maggie and Glenn's house for a couple of hours before eventually retiring home to their own. It was there that they simply spent time with one another, listening to Carl playing the few guitar chords he knew while Judith played along on her toy drum kit, a toy that was sure to go missing if Rick had anything to say about it. It was only his role as Alexandria's leader that compelled them to go to church that evening, to watch on while the kids sang Christmas carols and performed a nativity scene. Confident that Carl couldn't quite see what he was doing, Rick spent most of the service with his hand resting on Carrie's thigh beneath her coat, slowly creeping higher and higher until she cracked and pushed him away.

"We're in church," she scolded him under her breath, though her poorly concealed smile gave her away.

"And?" he questioned, taking hold of her hand instead. It was her left, and with a gentle squeeze he could feel the engagement and wedding rings she wore on her fourth finger. "We are married."

With only the following day left, Carrie and Rick made a point of staying home together, just them, Daryl and the kids. Home was where they wanted to be, together. After much debate over what Rick considered to be three colours that were exactly the same, Carrie had finally made her selection of pale yellow, allowing he and Carl to start painting the nursery. Carl had made it twenty minutes into the painstaking task of cutting in the edges before calling it quits, too impatient to focus and ensure a clean line. Telling Rick to call him back when he could use the rollers, he left to spend a little time with Enid instead.

"You sure you don't want to try?" Rick asked Carrie. Sitting atop a ladder he dipped his angled brush into the cup of paint and then wiped off the excess. A drop landed on his knee, making him glad he had exchanged his jeans for a pair of sweats instead.

"No thank you," Carrie shook her head in disdain. "That looks like a pain in the ass."

"It's actually very satisfying," he said softly, falling silent as he brought the brush back to the wall and ever so carefully smoothed the yellow paint on.

The skill of getting it perfect had come back with just a little practice, and aside from a few areas of Carl's that he had fixed up, not one smudge of yellow marred the white ceiling. In the early days of their marriage he and Lori had painted the entirety of their first home both inside and out, Carl sleeping or playing nearby, and Shane was never far away when there was something to playfully criticise. This would be the third bedroom he had painted for a child, though he seemed to recall a wallpaper trimming of cowboys that had been in Carl's bedroom. Perhaps if this baby was a boy Carrie might agree to something like that, should they find the resources that was.

Behind him she was cross legged on the floor, Judith sitting in her lap. There she was sorting through a box of overturned baby clothes, cutting off the tags of the new items and looking through the various sizes and types. Some of it would need to be laundered before it was hung up in the closet, while others would be set into storage until they needed it in a few more months.

"Awwww Rick, look at this."

From atop the ladder he turned around and looked, but immediately shook his head at the puppy onsie she was holding up. "No. That's not going on my child."

"Come on," she pleaded, showing him both sides as if the tail on the back would convince him. "Look, it's even got ears on the hood! He'll look so cute in this."

At this remark Rick lurched, a smudge of yellow appearing on the ceiling before he hastily wiped it away with a rag. "He?" he questioned, looking down at her in suspicion. " _He_?"

Carrie sighed, rolling her eyes as she folded the puppy costume and set it in the pile of too large clothing. "Or _she_ , whatever."

"Do you know what it is?"

"No!"

Still suspicious, he turned back to the task at hand. "Do you swear?"

"I swear, I don't know." She muttered something under her breath, likely something he was glad not to hear. "Although, this whole thing would be easier if we knew what we were having."

"It's too late now, there's yellow on the wall. We are committed to the yellow."

"The yellow doesn't make a difference to us finding out."

"Good. Because we're not finding out."

Wisely they left their debate at that, Rick grateful that she hadn't found out. This had been his one request from the beginning of the pregnancy, that they not find out the gender before it was born. He didn't regret finding out that Carl was a boy, but he had also seen the other side of things, he knew how wonderful it felt to be surprised with a daughter even in the midst of his grief. After he and Lori decided they were content with only one child he had resigned himself to the fact he would never have daughters, but things were different now. He was to be a father of three, and he liked not knowing exactly what was coming up for them.

He climbed down from the ladder and moved it over a few feet, careful not to snag it on the drop sheets he had set out. As he resumed his position sitting on the top he looked down at Carrie, observing the swell of her belly now that Judith had moved off her lap. Her belly was quite small overall, not yet burdensome on her lower back or even on their sex life. For now it hadn't put a stop to anything, but Rick knew as the months progressed they would have to get creative, that there would come a point when she needed help to simply get up from the floor. Still looking at her, for he had a great view down the front of her shirt, he started thinking about that morning, the way they had greeted the day together. God, the way she moved on top of him…the way her swollen breasts bounced with every…gritting his teeth he stopped that train of thought. Judith was awake, and Carl could come home without warning, so there was nothing he could do with his imagination except taunt himself. Taking one last glance down the front of her shirt he turned back to cutting in the ceiling line.

Despite his observation that her belly was still quite small, time was slipping away from them. She was twenty nine weeks now, and by the time he returned home from the Kingdom for good she would be at least thirty two weeks pregnant, the start of her eighth month. Just like it had with Lori's second pregnancy, things were going faster than he had expected. With Lori it had at first seemed like they had all the time in the world before the baby was due, but then the months soared by and her belly grew, and all of a sudden it seemed more like a ticking time bomb than something to celebrate. With Lori he had struggled to get her through each day with enough food and a safe place to sleep, he spent his days searching for the long term solution before she went into labour. He thought things would feel differently with Carrie's pregnancy, that the days would drag on and they'd be eagerly counting down, but it seemed that wasn't to be the case. Time had passed quickly, the birth of their first child creeping up on them.

"Madeleine," he stated, trying to change his train of thought. "What do you think of that?"

"Madeleine?" she questioned, glancing up at him before handing Judith something to put into a box. "I don't like it."

"Why not?"

"It's pretentious. Madeleine," she said in disdain.

"Abby?"

"Short for Abigail?"

"Just Abby."

Carrie repeated the name in full, testing how it felt and sounded. She shrugged her shoulders, neither approving nor disapproving. "I've been wondering…why did you suggest Georgia?"

Rick paused at this question, glad that he was facing away from her when she asked. For a moment he felt paralysed, wondering if he was making a common mistake of walking straight into a hot topic argument. The first and only time he had suggested the name Georgia she hadn't taken it well. She'd been openly upset, bluntly telling him to never suggest that name again…and now she was bringing it up again?

"I'm just asking," Carrie continued when he didn't answer. Still on the floor she continued sorting through the clothing, trying to appear nonchalant about it. "Why that name?"

"Because we met in Georgia," he hastily answered, not wanting the silence to return. He hesitated before elaborating more, for he always hated to bring up Granger's group with her, the fact that she had given them the name Georgia rather than her own. She didn't talk to him about them any more than she absolutely had to. "And you used that name to protect yourself," he cautiously continued. "It gave you strength."

"I guess so," she said quietly. There was a longer pause now, Rick slowly releasing the breath he had been holding. "I like the name you suggested last night. Alexandria."

He smiled at this, glad she liked it. "It's fitting, don't you think? A bit long though."

"Does that matter?"

"It does when you're yelling at them. You'll run out of breath before you even get to her second name. I was thinking maybe we could call her Ally."

"I could go for Ally," she agreed.

"And for a boy, I was thinking Kyle?"

Her reaction was swift. "No," she said bluntly, Judith laughing at her expression of disgust. "Where did that come from?"

"I just like it," he lied. Going ahead with his strategy, he suggested two more names he knew she wouldn't like, and finished with the one he did. "What about Asher?" As he climbed down from the ladder to move it over again he observed her reaction, pleased that she didn't look disgusted.

"Asher?"

"It means happy, I think."

"What happened to Ethan?" she frowned. "I could have sworn you had your heart set on Ethan."

"You don't like it."

"I never said that. It's on the refrigerator list, isn't it?"

He sighed as he ascended the ladder again. "Alright, Ethan's our top contender."

"Well not so fast," she protested. "I like Asher…it's nice. Besides, maybe if we give him a name that means happy, he'll be a happy baby."

"Oh yeah? In that case I should have named Carl something that means sleepy. A sleepy baby would have been nicer than the crier we got."

As their debate continued, one that was surprisingly light hearted given they were discussing names, Rick's attention eventually moved on to other things. Though he'd come home to spend time with his family, there was something else he needed to take care of while he was here, something he didn't relish. Carrie's pregnancy wasn't the only thing that felt like a ticking time bomb in the back of his mind. There was Vetor too. Vetor, and what he had done to Spencer.

By now he knew that Vetor had supposedly confessed to responsibility, having cruelly told Lana what he did to Spencer and why. All along there had been little doubt in Rick's mind that Vetor had something to do with this, that it wasn't just an unfortunate accident. He had barely been back at the Kingdom a whole day following the funeral before it was all confirmed to him, Daryl and Rosita making another unscheduled visit. It was them who reported to him what Vetor had said, but it wasn't quite as simple as they thought it to be. Lana had told Carrie all of this, but had also expressed her doubts as to the truthfulness, claiming instead that Vetor was simply taking credit for an accident. Lana had refused to believe him, and had warned that she would deny everything if she were confronted about it.

Predictably, Daryl and the others were foaming at the mouth in rage, expectantly waiting for Rick's blessing that they take care of Vetor once and for all. "We gotta get rid o' him," Daryl growled, pacing back and forth inside the Kingdom's walls when they met that day. "I should'a never brought that prick in, none of 'em."

"I don't know if it's that simple," Rick apologised, knowing this wasn't going to be well received. "We can't throw him out, and we can't kill him."

Daryl looked at him incredulously, as did Rosita and Michonne. "He killed Spencer…he killed one of us!"

"According to Lana. According to a claim they'll both deny."

"Rick," Michonne began, surprisingly on side with Daryl. "You can't believe Lana, surely. We all know he did it."

"I know he did it, this isn't about Vetor. If Lana's willing to blindly defend him, she won't let us kill him, she won't let us exile him. We need to play this out right, or we'll lose her too."

"And good fuckin' riddance," Daryl snarled loudly, capturing the attention of some nearby gardeners. "Let 'em all go."

"We can't do that to Lana," he said firmly, for he still felt a sense of loyalty and obligation where she was concerned. He could recognise that she never wanted to rob Alexandria, that she had the potential to thrive and become a great leader if she could just make it out from under Vetor's influence. He hadn't been exaggerating when he once said that Vetor's death would be the best thing that ever happened to Lana. "She's one of us too, and I can't subject her to having to go back out there alone. Same with Mitchell and Mina. Vetor has his hooks so far into them they'll follow him off a cliff, we can't let them do that."

Daryl scoffed at him, gripping the strap of Carl's crossbow over his shoulder. "So, what? He just ge-"

"He does not get away with it," Rick said firmly. "But we need to deal with this in the right way. He cannot be kicked out, and he cannot just disappear."

"So we can't do him the way we were going to do Pete," Rosita confirmed, her hand on Daryl's forearm settling him long enough to listen. "What do you have in mind?"

Rick paused, looking at Michonne as he thought out loud. "It has to be an accident. An act of God. Sickness. Walkers. I don't care what kills him, so long as _we_ are beyond reproach for it. If Lana thinks we're responsible for something happening to him, she'll leave."

Over Christmas this entire topic had been the elephant in the room between he and Carrie, for they both knew that it needed to be discussed, there was just never a good time to bring it up. Not Christmas Eve, and definitely not Christmas day, and their final day they were enjoying the time together, preparing the baby's room. But for the first time they had found themselves alone, and this might be the best time to talk privately. As he poured paint into the roller tray, reminding himself to leave a section of wall for Carl to do, Rick reluctantly raised the subject. He needed to know where Carrie stood on the issue, on the consequences that would come of him choosing the worst case scenario of exiling the whole group. It was bad enough that the community had almost come to see him as a would be executioner, but he didn't want his wife to see him that way either. He'd been down that road before with Lori and it had been the catalyst of their breakdown, and it had almost ruined things with Carrie when it came to Pete.

He knew that Carrie used to give people the benefit of the doubt, that her refusal to kill people resulted in her being raped by Granger's group in a deal gone wrong…but had that changed? Certainly Pete's attack had hardened her, had sent her down a path of self-doubt, turmoil and ultimately resulted in a much bleaker outlook on life…but would she agree to him killing Vetor? Would she support it? Then it posed the question of Lana. They talked it through for quite some time, and then finally they came to the crunch.

"Do you know what I'd have to do?" he asked, carefully moving the roller up and down the wall, taking care to avoid leaving drip marks. "What it will mean for me to exile someone?"

"Yes, I know." Still sitting on the floor surrounded by baby clothes, Carrie's mood had plummeted when this subject arose.

"I need to hear you say it."

She gave a heavy sigh, and then welcomed Judith into her lap, placing her hands on her belly so she could feel her sibling moving. "You'll take him out as if you're exiling him, and the you'll kill him," she said, her tone very matter of fact. "You won't do it here, you'll do it out there."

"And you're okay with that?" he asked skeptically. "You're okay with me killing him based only on a confession that he'll deny. No evidence, no eye witnesses."

"I'm okay with a lot of things I wasn't before," was her blunt answer. "I've always acknowledged that you were right about Pete, that you should have killed him and that I convinced you not to. Let's not make the same mistake with Vetor."

Rick didn't respond for a few moments, something she said bothering him a great deal. "I didn't know you felt that way about what happened with Pete."

"It's what happened."

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. "I don't hold you at fault for what happened to Carl. There were plenty of reasons I didn't kill Pete. What he chose to do with his second chance is not our fault."

Though she nodded in agreement, it was clear her heart wasn't in it. "It feels like it is sometimes. Even now."

"So let me get this straight," he asked, returning to his former task. "You're okay with me killing Vetor?"

"Yes. In fact, I'd recommend it."

"And Lana?"

"What about her?"

"You know I'd have to kill her too. Carrie…if I'm exiling Vetor, she won't let him leave without her. That means I kill her too."

"Yes."

"I'm not okay with that," he admitted. "We're supposed to be looking out for her best interests. We know what it's like with those two."

Carrie was quiet for a long time, clearly thinking things over. "She's a grown woman Rick, she can make her own choices. If she wants to go down with him, then she can."

This made him hesitate, her remarks feeling a little colder than he anticipated. "What's going on with you two?"

At this she shrugged, her expression downcast. "She acts like she's the only one who's ever done something she regrets, like no other woman had to be a whore to pro-"

"Don't," he said sharply, cutting her off.

He didn't need to say anymore than that, the single word communicating to her everything she needed to hear from him. He'd never held the delusion that she wanted sex with those men, that saying yes to them had been genuine consent. Nevertheless he suspected that although she understood that distinction, perhaps she hadn't quite accepted it yet. He put the roller down and then sat on the lower rung of the ladder, giving her some space because he knew she'd need it.

"Why don't you talk to her about it?" he asked gently, worried that he may be entering territory he had no business occupying. "Tell her."

Carrie shook her head, using a laugh to hide her discomfort. "It took me months to talk to Denise about it. I'm going to tell Lana just to make her feel better? I don't even really like her…I sure as shit can't trust her with something like that."

"It's a fair call," he acknowledged, testing the waters by brushing his fingertips against hers. As he expected she might she reached forward for a pair of baby pants, avoiding his touch and trying to occupy herself instead.

"She doesn't want our help," she said bitterly, tossing the pants into a specific pile. "She's made that very clear."

"Just because she doesn't want our help, doesn't mean it shouldn't be available."

It was this remark that made her take pause, to reconsider the bitterness and lack of sympathy she had been feeling. "I know," she muttered dejectedly, already selecting the next item of clothing to be sorted.

Nothing more on the subject was said, neither of them having much more to say. The topic itself wasn't closed for discussion though. They had reached an impasse, unable to exile Vetor without also exiling Lana, a compromise Rick was unwilling to make. Precautions were being taken though, the run crew suspended from duties at least until Rick returned home for good, and the surveillance of Lana's household being increased. Vetor was now to be under the greatest scrutiny possible, while Daryl was to have no interactions with him lest there be lingering resentment towards the fling with Lana, a fling Rick had been assured was now over with.

Despite the precautions being taken to protect themselves from him, that wasn't enough to satisfy anyone. He had left it in Daryl and Rosita's hands to take care of, for them to find some way to alleviate the community of Vetor while still keeping Lana safely in Alexandria, her home. A construction accident, sickness…anything that didn't publicly lay responsibility on them for his death was going to be acceptable. Until it happened, Rick simply had to wait and trust his group.

Carl's surgery had been performed yesterday afternoon, barely a day after they had arrived back after Christmas. It had taken only a brief inspection from Mak to ascertain that he was still well enough for it to go ahead, that the wound was free of infection and full of healthy tissue, a state that had been maintained for weeks now. It was then he made the call that he was doing to operate, that it was the most ideal time for the surgery to be performed. Carl had been appropriately nervous, particularly given how quickly it was scheduled and things went ahead. Uncharacteristically quiet for the entire morning, he said very little as he changed into the gown and tied his hair back from his face, stoic right up until the moment the anaesthesia took effect. It was then that Rick was asked to leave, the three doctors preferring him to wait outside rather than nervously breathe down the back of their necks throughout the procedure.

Michonne and Carol had waited outside with him, the three of them playing a lacklustre game of cards for the three hour duration. The surgery itself sounded simple enough in layman terms, a portion of skin was being removed from his shoulder and placed onto the healthy wound bed of his eye socket where it would take hold and grow. Mak was confident that all had gone well, that it was going to succeed. His initial hopes to minimise the scarring with a full thickness graft were only fleeting, Mak deciding on the necessary compromise between aesthetic appearance and the potential for a smooth recovery. It was disappointing to know that the mottled scarring Carl already had couldn't be fixed, that overall it was going to get worse, but to Rick at least he was satisfied. The wound was going to heal, Carl's general health had already taken a dramatic turn for the better. His appearance was never going to be restored to what it was, and that would taken even more time to accept, but this was a step in the right direction.

The morning after he had been discharged from the Infirmary, Carl so tired he even accepted the suggestion of a wheelchair and allowed Michonne to push him back to their apartment. It was there he had stayed ever since, the anaesthetic and procedure having taken a lot out of him, and he seemed disinterested in anything other than laying on the couch watching movies on a borrowed laptop, the luxury of electricity having been afforded to him for the initial duration of his recovery. Funnily enough it seemed that it was his shoulder causing more pain than his face, the donor wound so uncomfortable he had still been asking for morphine, the effects of which he normally didn't like.

While Carl lay on the couch the card game passed the time, Carol getting smug when she repeatedly beat them. Just as Michonne was about to suggest another game, her pride having been significantly wounded already, there came a knock at the door. It wasn't unusual for them to get visitors, even after dark, and suspecting it was only Mak or Brea coming to check on their patient there was no cause for concern.

"I'll get that," Rick said, tossing his worthless cards into the pile. "Deal again, and do it properly this time."

"Said the loser," Carol teased as she collected the cards and began to shuffle.

While they laughed at his expense Rick glanced at Carl as he passed him by, glad to see he was fast asleep. When he reached the door he paused for a moment, allowing his hand to rest on the grip of his Colt. It was a habit he still exercised despite how safe they felt here at the Kingdom, because there was no telling when things might change. Prepared to find one of the doctors on the other side Rick opened the door, and he blinked in surprise when he saw who it was.

"Richard," he said awkwardly, quickly collecting himself. "Hello."

Bundled up for the cold weather outside, Richard nodded his head in greeting, managing a rare smile that might have even been real. "Rick. I thought I'd stop by and look in you all." He paused and looked past him, raising his hand in greeting to Michonne and Carol before turning his attention to the couch where Carl lay. "How is he?"

"He's doing okay, thanks. Just resting a lot."

"Good, good," Richard muttered, shifting the weight between his feet. "Could I have a moment, outside?"

Agreeing to his request, Rick stepped out into the hallway and closed the door, but he made sure to leave it slightly ajar. From the corner of his eye he had glimpsed Michonne deftly crossing the room, her movement so smooth and agile that not a sound was heard when she stood on the other side of the door to listen. They had all been waiting for this moment, for their sudden return to Alexandria following Spencer's death meant they had cancelled on Richard's plans. He had invited one of them to join him on a supply run, and though he downplayed it they got the feeling it had been a big deal. At the time they were increasingly suspicious of those supply runs, concerned by the fact that they had once glimpsed them departing with fresh produce and returning without it. They were meeting with another group to trade, and Rick wanted very much to be a fly on the wall at one of those meetings. If there was another group around he wanted to know everything he could about them. Three weeks had passed since he was invited on that supposed supply run…was this the moment Richard asked him to the next?

"Chef's been sending meals for him, right?" Richard asked in concern. "And for you too? You shouldn't be lifting a finger right now."

"Everyone's been taking great care of us," he assured him, meaning it too. "People are sending food, keeping the laptop charged for us. Benjamin and Henry came by this afternoon, but they didn't stay long."

"They told me they stopped by. Is there anything else you need? Just say the word."

"We're okay for now. Thank you."

Richard nodded, giving a polite smile as he stood there a few moments more. Sensing that he had something more to say, that he was working up to something, Rick patiently waited for him to get to it. He was banking on the invitation, for Richard to invite he or Michonne on another supply run like he had once before.

"I hate to ask you this," he finally began. "I know it's bad timing with Carl the way he is."

"You need someone to take watch?"

"Nothing like that. I was hoping I might…"

Richard trailed off for a moment, falling silent as another Kingdom resident and her children came towards them down the hallway. Judging by their towels and damp hair they were making their way back from the shower block, cutting through this building on their way home in order to avoid the cold outside. Perhaps seeking a little privacy for this conversation, Richard waited until they were out of earshot until he continued.

"I was hoping I might introduce you to a friend of mine…someone you may already know."

Richard slipped his hand into the satchel he was carrying, and by the clinking of glassware Rick suspected what he had before he saw it. When he removed a bottle of single malt whiskey Rick couldn't help the smile that came over his face, one that started small and then grew a little.

"I do indeed know your friend," he said conversationally. "He and I have been acquainted over the years."

"You've been here five weeks, yet you and I we haven't shared a drink. What do you say? There's plenty to celebrate."

At this he had to pause, his gaze drifting through the door he had left ajar. He made eye contact with Carol who was still sitting at the table on the pretence of dealing the cards. From here he could also see Carl, still fast asleep on the couch…Richard's timing still left a lot to be desired.

"Cause for celebration?" he asked, trying to stall.

"We just had Christmas, and we've got New Year creeping up on us. You're having a baby, Carl's doing well. No significant injuries from our Dodgeball tournament," he added. "That's a reason to celebrate."

Michonne appeared in his line of sight, nodding her head and giving him the thumbs up. Her message was clear. _Go for a drink. Find out what he wants._

"I just, uhhh," he said, pretending to be unsure. He wanted to know how badly Richard wanted to share a drink with him. Was there an agenda here, or merely a friendly offer? "I'm not sure it's a good idea tonight."

As he expected, Richard pressed at him just a little more. Had it been a friendly offer he would have taken Rick's refusal and suggested they take a rain check, but he didn't. There was an agenda here.

"Just a couple of drinks," Richard pressed. "We won't be more than an hour. I promise."

He feigned hesitation just a little more, and then nodded in agreement. "Alright, a couple of drinks. I'll be right back."

Slipping back inside the apartment he shared a loaded glance with Michonne and Carol, though conscious of the fact Richard was still within earshot he didn't say anything other than relaying his plans. Getting ready he slipped on his coat and then removed his Colt from the holster, thanking Michonne as she took it and stowed it in their safe.

"I promise I'll have him back by midnight," Richard joked to Michonne and Carol, his tone sounding unusually friendly.

"If you don't, he'll turn into a pumpkin," Carol smiled. "Have fun you two."

They set off across Central Park in the dark and cold night, heading towards the administration building where Richard lived. In the back of his mind Rick noted that Ezekiel lives there too, as does Shiva. Confident that Richard wouldn't be naive enough to bring him to see the tiger, for he knew how poorly her presence had been received, Rick followed him through the darkness, not protesting when they went behind the buildings he was less familiar with. The area was lush with vegetation, and he soon recognised the area as the Royal Gardens.

"What's been going on here?" he enquired, noticing that what had at first seemed like lush gardens was in fact an array of vegetation that had been pulled out and left on the ground to wither.

"Weevils," Richard answered, bringing him over to a large steel drum in the middle of the courtyard. "The whole garden's infected with them, so we have to cull it all. We're supposed to start the burn off tomorrow, but I figured you and I could get a head start."

Agreeing, Rick looked around while Richard started the bonfire in the steel drum. He hadn't visited this area much, having never been asked to complete any work in here, but he and Carl had come by in the early days of their stay here. That night he and Richard set to work, stoking the fire and intermittently adding in the vegetation to be destroyed. As they worked he couldn't help but remember nights like this back in Kings County when he was just a few years older than Carl, nights when he and his friends would congregate around a bonfire, thinking they were top of the world because they had beer hidden in their thermos.

"Thanks for joining me," Richard said as he poured them both a drink. Having filled the steeled drum to the brim they were sitting back now to let it burn. "When I was asking you, I felt like some seedy high school kid trying to convince his girlfriend to go all the way on prom night."

Rick chuckled at the analogy, gladly accepting the drink. "Cheers."

Warmed by the growing bonfire, they settled into their chairs and began to drink. There was a brief pause, the awkwardness reminding Rick that although the two of them had been on good terms, they'd not been sociable with one another. Though he'd made an effort to get to know the Kingdomers, Richard had never seemed particularly social with anyone but those in his immediate ranking, the so called knights and stewards of the King.

Making an effort to get the conversation going Rick brought up Christmas, a topic that could easily occupy thirty minutes of time. There was still a certain element of uncertainty between them given they'd never talked casually before, but as more liquor was poured the conversation began to flow with ease. Rick relayed the events in Alexandria before Richard did the same for the Kingdom, laughing as he recounted their Christmas pageant and the way Shiva roared along with the music.

"How's Carrie doing?" he asked. Perhaps he still felt bad about their first encounter, for this wasn't the first time he has asked about her well being. "I'm told Chef sent a food package for her when you went home for Christmas."

"He did, and she loved it. Sure overshadowed the gift I gave her for Christmas."

"Which was?"

"Me," Rick said sheepishly, taking a sip of the smooth whisky.

"Oh, and how did that work out for you?"

"A little better when I followed it up with a book and scented candle."

"Excellent choice," he praised. "The Kingdom's candle making skills are second to none."

"Well, thankfully she wasn't expecting anything at all. It's easy to exceed low standards," he chuckled, taking another sip of his whiskey. Though they'd exchanged gifts, he and Carrie got just as much joy watching Judith unwrapping hers, the phenomenon of receiving toys for no apparent reason baffling and exciting her.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but how did you lose your first wife?"

Somewhat taken aback, Rick paused before he intended to answer, but Richard hastily tried to clarify the source of his question.

"It's just, you told me the other month that you'd just been married. Besides, Carrie doesn't seem old enough to be Carl's mother."

Though she was old enough, Rick didn't correct him. He didn't mind the curious question, and Richard wasn't the first to ask. "Carl's mother, Lori, she died in child birth. Not with Carl," he added, elaborating a little. "I have a daughter back home."

At this Richard smiled, taking a drink and ushering Rick to do the same. "Colton told me about her after his visit there, said she's practically the Princess of Alexandria. A real fire cracker apparently."

"She's her mother's daughter, that's for sure," Rick chuckled, gladly holding his empty glass out when Richard opened the bottle to top them up. "We've had it easy with her so far, but I think the terrible twos aren't far off."

"Better you than me with all that trouble," Richard said dismissively, though not impolitely.

Considering him, Rick wondered how receptive he would be of the same question. "What about you? Your wife?" He gave it a moment before continuing, noting the familiar haunting look of grief that appeared in Richard's eyes. As he spoke he gestured to Richard's hands, for tonight he wasn't wearing his leather gloves. "That first time you take the wedding ring off…that tan line is practically blinding."

"It sure is," Richard agreed desolately, setting the bottle of scotch aside and taking another sip from his glass. "I traded my ring for food early on…I wish I had it still. Did you keep yours from your first wife?"

"Carl wears it now," he answered, conscious of the fact that Richard hadn't answered his question about his wife. Though it was understandable he not want to share details of his wife's loss, Rick pressed him for other information, curious as to what he would share. "Were you here at the Kingdom from the very beginning? Or were you somewhere else before?"

Slowly, Richard shook his head. "I got to a refugee camp pretty quickly. It was like a tent city that place…fucking awful," he cursed. As he spoke he stared into the bonfire, fingers restlessly tapping against the glass he held.

"We've seen of those places, what's left of them at least. I've always wondered what they were like. Can't have been very safe."

"They were safe for the most part, but the outbreak was still so new…we hadn't had any time to acclimate, to catch up to the new world." There was a long pause now, Richard apparently not keen on doing much more of he talking, and just as Rick was about to speak he started up again. "I could always see that there were problems brewing. I could see it all coming a mile away but I didn't do anything about it. I assumed someone else would."

Understanding, Rick withheld judgement. "It's the bystander effect. If there are other people around, people assume they'll do something. It happens a lot in emergencies. It happens in life too."

"You were a cop, right? In Georgia?"

"Yeah."

"Well that was me," Richard bitterly admitted, pawing the ground with the toe of his shoe. "I saw things going bad, and I assumed someone else was doing something about it. But not any more," he added, clearing his throat as he raised his head and looked Rick in the eye. He held his gaze for a moment, his expression serious. "I don't want to sit back and let things happen."

Maintaining his gaze, Rick waited with bated breath for Richard to say something else, for the serious tone to bring them into the territory of something important, but it seemed nothing was to come from it. Instead Richard turned away and returned his gaze to the bonfire, making Rick wonder again what the purpose of this conversation was. Did Richard really just want to share a drink with him, or was there something else at play? Thinking over what had already been said he made an abrupt change of conversation, wondering how Richard would respond.

"What did you do before all this?" he asked, his tone friendly and conversational. "How did you fill the hours?"

Richard seemed uninterested in the question, trying to brush it off. "What does it matter? The past is the past."

"The past matters," Rick insisted, the words of Deanna returning to him with ease. "Who you were then, matters now."

At this Richard laughed uncomfortably. "I don't talk about what I did before. People think I'm some kind of asshole."

"What were you?" he asked again, genuinely interested now. "A drug dealer? Pimp? Puppy farmer?"

Giving a great sigh, Richard steeled himself before answering. "I worked for the IRS. I was a tax auditor."

Rick looked at him in astonishment, having not seen that coming. "Well shit. I wouldn't talk about that either."

"Enough about me," Richard said, tipping his drink back and finishing it. "I want to hear all about you, Rick. What happened to you when the world went down the toilet?"

"I think for that, we might need another drink," he suggested, he too finishing the last of what he had in his glass.

Acquiescing, Richard unscrewed the cap and poured them both another, and the moment Rick mentioned the word coma he knew he had a captive audience. With the liquor helping he explained how he had awoken alone in the hospital, bewildered by the horrors that awaited him on the other side of his hospital room door. Skimming over some of the details he tried to make quick work of his story, mentioning the camp in Atlanta and what happened to Merle, brushing through the CDC and then moving on to Herschel's farm. It was there he left most details unsaid, Shane's name not passing his lips even once. As he spoke he knew Richard was hanging on to his every word, listening in fascination as he recounted the herd that sent them fleeing the home that had been in Herschel's family for generations.

"After that we spent a couple of months moving around a lot. A couple of nights here, a week there."

"You never tried to settle down somewhere?"

"We did try…we've tried to make a lot of places work. We've been in Alexandria for as long as we were in the prison, and s-"

"Wait, a prison?" Richard cut him off in astonishment. "Now this I have to hear."

"It's a convenient set up," Rick laughed, the alcohol relaxing him. "Walls and fences were already there, they weren't just doing what they were built for. They kept people out rather than in."

Though he had anticipated more curious enquiries, for the story of their life at the prison seemed to draw fascination from all those who heard it, Richard went quiet for a moment. There was silence as he looked back into the bonfire, strumming his fingers against his glass before readjusting his coat around his neck.

"It's funny you say that," he began softly, all light heartedness having faded now. "Keep people out. I would have thought you'd be more concerned with keeping the dead out. Not people."

"Yeah," Rick said bitterly, taking a large mouthful and holding it there on his tongue. It tasted as sharp and strong as the memories that still haunted him. "I would have thought that too at the start. But I think you and I both know that's not how the world works anymore."

Richard nodded. "The dead are a nuisance," he agreed. "But it's-"

"It's the _people_ you have to worry about."

"Yes," Richard said darkly, looking around at him again. "You understand that, don't you."

It was a statement, not a question. "Understand it? I've lived it…barely survived it. So have you, I'd say."

When Richard nodded, the conversation naturally turned to the Governor and his attacks on the prison, the terror that had seen the prison obliterated and the occupants either dead or running for their lives, Rick's entire group split up. With Richard still preferring to listen than recount his own stories, Rick found himself relaying every struggle that followed. The Claimers, Terminus, Grady Hospital, the Georgia supply run and the Ohio group, the Wolves. Though the event felt like a life time ago, details of each were still as fresh in his mind as if they'd just happened, details he would remember throughout the rest of his life.

"You can understand why we were reluctant to trust your group," he explained, taking care to speak clearly. He'd lost track of how many drinks had been poured, and his tongue was starting to feel too large in his mouth, the end of his words slurring a little. "Now, we're just waiting for somethin' else to happen…for the rest of that biker group to show up again."

Though his lips were becoming increasingly loose, bringing up the biker gang had been intentional. As he mentioned them he took care to observe Richard's behaviour and reaction, to see if there was anything that ought to concern him. He had confronted Richard about this group the first time they met after the quarry imploded and the Wolves attacked, the knife wound in Daryl's back still unhealed. But Richard had vehemently denied any connection or knowledge of that group, and Rick had believed him at the time. Hell, Rick still believed him now, yet he was sure there was something Richard was keeping from him, something that wasn't quite right. But when Richard smoothly changed the subject Rick was drunk enough to let it slide, though he had noted his avoidance of the topic.

"But Carl?" Richard implored, spilling the whiskey as he needlessly topped up their glasses. "I mean that boy…what a feat. Surviving a shot to the face? That's incredible."

"Incredible, yes," he agreed, not quite sharing Richard's enthusiasm. "But completely avoidable."

"Oh…an accident?"

"No. One of our own attacked him," he said softly, his stomach churning as he remembered that day and the events leading up to it. "They were trying to get to me, so they attacked Carrie. Damn near killed her…Carl tried to intervene."

Richard let out an incredulous laugh, the sound rumbling in his chest as he struggled to put the cap back on the whiskey. "I hope you got the pleasure of killing the bastard."

"No," Rick answered, a smile crossing his face before he too was laughing. "Not that was Carrie's pleasure…it was all her."

"Carrie?" he said in disbelief, sitting forward to look at him properly. "Carrie, that sweet, nice woman who…" he trailed off with a frown, perhaps recalling their first encounter. "On second thought, I can see that."

For a few moments they both burst into laughter, both wholeheartedly agreeing that Carrie was capable of more than it first seemed. Quickly enough they trailed off, and then to his frustration his thoughts turned solemn. It felt strange to laugh about what had happened to them that day, as if he was making light of Carl's injury and Carrie's near death, and instantly his mood plummeted.

"The one thing I've never been able to handle, the one thing I couldn't fix," Rick began, trailing off for a moment when he lost his train of thought. "It's Carl. Nothing I did saved him. There's nothing I can do to give him back his eye, to make him healthy again."

"Come on now," Richard began, his words heavy with relaxation. "That's not true. You've done lots, I'm sure."

Rick waved him off, disagreeing. "I owe his survival to Denise. Without her, he would have bleed to death right in front of me. But she saved him…I owe his life to her. And now…now, I owe his health to the Kingdom."

"It's nothin'…"

"No, it's not," Rick shook his head, struggling for the right combination of words. "You haven't lived the last six months….he's smiled more than in the last few weeks than he has since it happened. He's himself again. I can't thank you enough for that."

Richard nodded, understanding the magnitude of these words. "Your son needed help," he said simply. "Help we could provide."

"Well, I thank you," he said sincerely, meaning it with every fibre of his being. "Truly."

"Rick," Richard said seriously, looking at him and holding his gaze. "In this world, we need each other more than ever. The Kingdom would never sit back and ignore someone who needed us. I hope Alexandria wouldn't do that either."

"We wouldn't," he agreed without hesitation. "Like I said…I owe my son's happiness to you. Can't put a price on that."

"Good," Richard said. There was a loud clunk as he set his glass down onto the ground, and then he clumsily reached his hand over to Rick. "To a long partnership. To Alexandria and the Kingdom."

Suitably pleased by how well the evening had gone, Rick didn't need to second guess himself as extended his hand and grasped Richard's, shaking on it. "To Alexandria and the Kingdom."

* * *

Tuesday, December 30

Opening his eyes was a mistake, that much was clear the moment he cracked them open. Nevertheless it seemed his body wasn't listening to his head right now, for he soon found himself clumsily sitting up. His head swirled and his stomach clenched, but he dimly noted that this wasn't the worst hangover he'd ever had. For a few long moments Rick sat with his head in his hands. He dimly noted that he was covered with a warm blanket, that somehow he had made it back home. A glass of water was nearby, but he lacked the strength to reach out for it. Consciousness felt like a burden.

"It's about time you woke up."

Hearing Carol approaching Rick raised his head and looked, thanking her when she put a plate of dry toast down beside the water. Staring at it he tried to summon the strength to reach out, and it was only the horrible taste in the back of his throat that compelled him to do so.

"How did I get home last night?" His voice didn't sound like it belonged to him, and it was awfully loud inside his head. A tentative sip of water quenched the insatiable thirst that ravaged him, the relief encouraging him to take another.

"You don't remember me coming to get you?"

Thinking on this for a moment flashes of last night started coming back to him, his mind catching up with him. He recalled Carol guiding him with her hand on his elbow, his feet dragging on the ground as he put one in front of the other. "Yeah…thanks."

"Well you said you'd be just an hour. It was getting close to eleven o'clock, I figured I better make sure you hadn't passed out on your way home and frozen to death."

The memories came back to him now. The weevils and bonfire, the whiskey and uproarious laughter. "I threw up on the way, didn't I…" he muttered, still tasting something terrible in his mouth.

"Well you two polished off what was left of the bottle," she admonished him. From a blister pack she cracked two Tylenol pills and dispensed them into his hand. "The poor goat never saw you coming. Neither did my shoes, for that matter."

"I did not throw up on a goat," he stated, certain that he hadn't.

"Not on it, no. But you threw up in it's pen."

Swallowing the pills, he chased them with some water and then rubbed his eyes, acclimating himself to the bright sunlight streaming through the large windows. Taking a few moments to himself he looked at his watch and saw that it was approaching nine thirty in the morning, a significant sleep in for him even after he'd been out drinking. Not going to the effort of getting to his feet he looked over his shoulder towards the bedroom area of their apartment, the open curtains allowing him to see that the two beds were unoccupied.

"Where's Carl?" he asked, aware that he now occupied the couch Carl had been sleeping on last night.

"He's taking a shower. Michonne's with him."

"Good," he muttered, glad he had found the strength and will to go out and do something, even if it was only taking a shower. "And I suppose he's responsible for this," he said, gesturing to his toenails that were now painted bright blue. He checked his fingernails, relieved to note they had been spared.

"Actually, that was Michonne and I. The blue is lovely, don't you think?"

Making his disagreement clear, he took another sip of water and then tentatively tried the toast, glad to note that it eased his churning stomach.

"So, what happened last night?" Carol asked, seating herself on the coffee table in front of him. "What did he say?"

It took a few moments to properly remember. "We talked about things…the outbreak, where we ended up after. Nothing in particular."

"So nothing about the next supply run?" she asked, pressing for more information. "I saw Colton this morning. He's wearing his riot gear, was filling bottles with drinking water. A group is going out today, they must be."

"Well if they are, I'm not invited. Richard didn't say anything about it. He seemed more interested in listening to be honest."

"Listening to what?"

"To me. Asked about what happened after the outbreak, where we ended up. He seemed…fascinated."

"And me?" she asked, no doubt thinking of her role at Terminus, of her attempt to rescue Beth.

"I kept you under wraps. You're still _nice Carol_ , don't worry." Deep in thought he slowly made his way through the piece of toast, dwelling on the night before. The longer he thought about it the more memories came flooding back, the stories he told him of the CDC, the Governor, Terminus, Atlanta, the Wolves all coming to mind. "No, I think it was something else…he seemed to admire it."

"Maybe he's thinking of inviting us to stay," she suggested thoughtfully. "It makes sense. We've got a lot of strength to offer."

"Leave Alexandria? That's our home."

Carol didn't answer for a moment, and she looked away and turned her attention outside the window. "It's just a bunch of houses. It's not our home."

He raised his eyebrows at this, surprised by the comment. "I'm sorry you feel that way," he simply stated, drinking the last of his water and then forcing himself to his feet. He needed to take a shower, to get himself together before facing another day. Hopefully things would be better today, that Carl might be convinced to go out and see some of his friends if he felt well enough.

Collecting some clean clothes and a towel Rick left his conversation with Carol somewhat unfinished, conscious that there would be more to talk about, there always was. Outside the sky was cloudy and overcast, the sunlight blissfully not too strong and objectionable. Making his way to the shower block he joined the short line and waited patiently, looking between two buildings in the distance where he could see Michonne and Carl sitting on a bench. He was glad to see them out there, figuring that by now Carl had showered and redressed, and was simply getting some fresh air.

"Hung over?" Danny teased when Rick got to the front of the queue. Seated at his small fold up table he was keeping track of the water usage and time restrictions, making sure no one took longer than they ought to. "I was on watch last night, could hear two idiots laughing their asses off until pretty late."

"That was Richard and I," he admitted.

Laughing at his expense, Danny handed him a kitchen timer and sent him on his way. "You can have the hangover special. Three and a half minutes."

Taking the perks where he could get them, he made his way up the five metal steps and into the portable shower block. He slipped into the only available cubicle and locked the door behind himself, lamenting the lack of hot water, though perhaps the cold would help properly awaken him. As he undressed he listened to the sound of the others in the shower block, cringing as he Gino singing at the top of his voice, not giving a shit who had to listen to his dreadful caterwauling. What the man lacked in talent he made up for with enthusiasm and commitment. In a nearby cubicle a kitchen timer sounded, the occupant giving a cry of relief as he turned off the cold water. Sometimes the short showers were a pain in the ass, other times the restrictions were a relief. Rick turned on the water and was annoyed to see the pressure was particularly low this morning, though it increased a little when another kitchen timer sounded and someone else turned off their shower.

Gasping from the shock of cold against his skin, he forced himself under and began cleaning up, conscious that he hadn't showered since he had left Alexandria. When resources were scarce it wasn't unusual to go for a couple of days cleaning up only when you absolutely had to, and given the state of his fuzzy head he knew for certain that he needed the cold water. As he made quick work of cleaning himself up he couldn't help but long for the last decent shower he had taken, the thirty glorious minutes he and Carrie had spent under the warm water the morning he had left. The more he thought about it the more he missed his beautiful wife, missed running his hands over her body, grasping her hips while he…

Quickly he changed his train of thought, not allowing himself to think that way. He may have received an extension on his shower time, but three minutes wasn't enough time to accomplish anything other than becoming more sexually frustrated than he already was. Besides, he had barely ninety seconds left now.

"You sons' o bitches, where's my applause?" Gino bellowed, emerging from his cubicle fully dressed and making his way towards the exit. "Don't make me sing it again."

Immediately the entire shower block broke into applause, a couple of cheers thrown in for effort before they gave a sigh of relief upon Gino's departure. Giving up on his shower before his kitchen timer rang, Rick turned off the water and stepped away, starting to feel a little better. As he redressed he took a couple of deep breaths to quell his still queasy stomach, remembering that he hadn't had that much to drink since the night Herschel was born. There had been drinks all around that night, Alexandria indulging in the old time tradition of wetting the baby's head in order to celebrate. Given he had been the first baby born in the community it had been quite the celebration. That night Carrie had been tasked with putting him to bed, warding off his clumsy attempts to come on to her as she removed his boots and belt.

The clouds had parted to bestow some sunshine on the Kingdom, and when Rick stepped out of the shower block it was thankfully not so harsh on his eyes. Taking a few moments to enjoy the warmth on his face he made his way back to his room to return his laundry and damp towel, and he was glad to find that Carl hadn't yet returned. He set off in search of him, roughly dragging his fingers through his damp hair as he followed the familiar route towards Central Park. While at first it seemed the community was slow to rise that morning, it quickly became apparent where they all were. A crowd of sorts was gathered in Central Park, the atmosphere one of celebration and excitement. He located Michonne and Carl rather quickly, glad that he was still up and about that morning and hadn't gone home just yet.

"How are you feeling?" he asked in concern, giving him a quick once over.

"I'm great," Carl laughed, returning Rick's critical gaze. "You're the one I should be asking. You were in bit of a state when you came home."

"Don't you worry about me. Thanks for the nail polish by the way," he said to Michonne. "You're going to get me some remover."

"You're lucky I didn't draw a dick on your face," she teased. "Daryl would have."

"What's all the fuss about?" he asked next, casting his eyes in the direction that seemed to be of interest.

"Chloe had her baby this morning. A little girl."

"Good for her. Is there a name yet?"

"Ada Marie."

"And Carl, you remembered what we discussed about this?"

He grinned, laughing for a moment. "Yeah, I said Ada was beautiful, even though she looks like a squashed potato. Seriously Dad, you gotta get a look. It's like her face is too big for her head."

"It's all in the eye of the beholder," he said, patting him on the shoulder. "You did a great impression of a squashed potato when you were born. Mom and I still thought you were beautiful."

"All babies are beautiful," Michonne lectured. "Even the ugly ones."

Waiting to catch a glimpse of the newest Kingdom resident, Rick lingered there with them a little longer, even though he was already entertaining the notion of going back to bed for a few more hours. Nevertheless this idea was not going to come to fruition, this made abundantly clear when he saw Richard approaching him through the crowd. Being subtle so that Carl didn't notice, Rick brushed his hand over the back of Michonne's elbow to get her attention, pointing out to her who was coming.

"Good morning," Richard greeted them all, he too looking like he had been suffering that morning. He turned to Rick with a tired smile. "How are you?"

"I'm feeling a little sorry for myself," he admitted. "I'm have some regrets."

At this Richard cheerfully laughed, emphasising the bags under his eyes. "Just like the morning after prom."

Rick too laughed, deferring Carl's confused look. That was a conversation for another day. "I have to say, I didn't know you had a sense of humour until last night."

Richard nodded, understanding. "I could say the same about you. I'm glad we did that."

"Same."

The conversation lapsed a few moments as Chloe and Craig came by again, their newborn Ada cradled safely in her mother's arms as they did the rounds, introducing her to all the residents. Following close behind was King Ezekiel and Jerry, greeting the people and telling them of their plans for that afternoon. The baby would be Christened in the auditorium, King Ezekiel presenting her parents with a birth certificate and his royal blessing. Though he admired the baby and said all the right things to her adoring parents, Rick had to agree with Carl.

"I told you, right?" Carl said quietly once they were gone. "Am I right?"

"She'll grow into her face, just like you did," Rick teased him, though only playfully.

Getting the feeling that Richard was lingering for a reason, he sent Carl on his way with a gentle jerk of the head. Getting the hint Carl reluctantly made himself scarce while Michonne did too, leaving Rick and Richard relatively alone given the crowd of people. Without needing to discuss it they fell into step alongside one another, heading for a quieter area near the animal pens.

"Something on your mind?"

It seemed there indeed was, for although he maintained a friendly pretence for the sake of any onlookers, Richard's tone and body language conveyed the seriousness of what he had to say. "The things we talked about last night…they weren't just words to me. I meant it when I said I'd like the Kingdom and Alexandria to come together, to help one another."

"I meant it too," he assured him. Interested in where this was going, he patiently waited while Richard mulled over his words.

"There's a supply run today. I'd like you to come if you can spare the time. No more than two hours at the most."

There it was. The invitation he had been waiting for. Noticing that this time the invitation was extended only to him, not Michonne, Rick took his time before giving an answer. "Two hours. That's a fast supply run."

"We don't waste time out there," was his only explanation. He held Rick's gaze, showing little of the camaraderie that ought to have developed after last night. "Will you join us?"

Again Rick took his time before giving his answer, deterred by what seemed like evasiveness on Richard's part. Fully aware that he still wasn't getting the full story, Rich was forced to hedge his bets and take the risk. Whatever it was, he wanted to be fully aware.

"Yes. I'll join you."

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Rick to seriously regret his agreement, for it immediately became apparent that this was no supply run. It wasn't even a trade meeting either, at least not the type that Rick had ever been party to.

He presented himself at the agreed place at the time instructed, having hastily removed the nail polish from his toes before farewelling Carl. Though they kept it to themselves, Michonne and Carol would be waiting on tenterhooks for his return, holding their breath as they prepared for whatever if was they were going to learn on this supply run. With them waiting for him back home Rick had donned his body armour and a spare gun, rifling through the pouches on his duty belt as he made his way across the Kingdom to the garages. But just like the first time he had caught a glimpse in the back of the trucks supposedly leaving the Kingdom for a supply run, the contents today created more questions than it answered.

The first truck was stacked two high with wooden crates of the Kingdom's home brew beer, the other stacked the same way with boxes of wine and spirits. Though a barrage of questions were on the tip of his tongue Rick said nothing, simply turning to look at Richard and making his displeasure known. He had been brought here under false pretences, that much was increasingly clear to him.

It seemed Rick wasn't the only one unhappy about something today, for although the others on the supply run knew what they were getting into, they apparently weren't expecting the extra company. Even Ezekiel who had been privy to Rick's first invitation seemed surprised to see him there, though not as surprised as Rick was to see that the King had donned body armour. His presence on whatever this was today only signified its importance, though that observation came at a distinct contrast to the presence of Benjamin. Just like he had for the trades made with Alexandria, it seemed Benjamin was accompanying them today. He greeted Rick like it was any other day, like he and Henry had come by to hang out with Carl, but even he seemed surprised by Rick's attendance.

"You going to tell me what's going on here?" Rick asked, he and Richard climbing into the back of the truck where they would be making the journey.

"I think it's best if I show you," he answered, making no apology for the way he had lured Rick onto this trip. "And for the record, you don't say a word today. Not one word."

The thirty minute journey was made in complete silence, Rick thankful for the silence that allowed him to pay attention to where they were going, to the route that was taking them north west. With every mile he was seething on the inside, furious as to how things were turning out. He felt duped, and although he had suspected Richard might be trading with another group he was increasingly concerned about the state of things. He had been warned to not say a word, the King himself was accompanying them. It had never been necessary for Ezekiel to come when they traded with Alexandria.

They came to a stop in an abandoned parking lot, a location that gave them clear lines of sight around their immediate vicinity. Following the lead he set, Rick followed Richard as he stepped out of the truck and began clearing away the dead that lingered. Rick drove his hatchet into one of the skulls of the dead, a gift Carl had given him for Christmas. He had made it himself, the blade and handle perfectly weighted to easily wield against Walkers. He hadn't had opportunity to use it yet, and he was pleased to note how good it was, how sharp and balanced. Taking out his frustrations, he swung the axe onto the head of another Walker he had just taken down, satisfied with the ease, the natural way it felt to swing it.

With the Walkers cleared Rick returned to the trucks where the others were waiting, though he was less than receptive when Richard tried to fall into step beside him. "I know that you're frustrated with me, but you'll understand soon enough."

He said nothing in reply, simply following the order that he not say a word. Ignoring him for the most part, Rick joined the others who were waiting by the cars, trying to prepare himself for whatever it was to come. Ten minutes passed in silence, and then came the sound of an approaching vehicle.

The sound made them all stand to attention, their attention focused as they gave their weapons a last minute check. Like the others did, Rick reluctantly kept his weapons holstered as the sound of the engines grew nearer, conscious that he needed to follow their lead. They wouldn't lead him into any immediate danger, that much he trusted. As they waited for the approaching car to make its appearance Ezekiel came to his side, softly getting his attention.

"What we are doing here is a secret I keep from my people," he explained, his voice heavy with the seriousness of what he was saying. As he spoke he held Rick's gaze, requesting his full attention. "Some see secrets as a privilege of ruling. Do you?"

For a moment Rick considered not answering, but only for a moment. "No."

Approving of his answer, Ezekiel grasped Rick's shoulder. "They are burdens," he said emphatically. "Not part of the reward. They are the cost."

As he said these words the approaching vehicle arrived, and Rick turned away to watch it. Emerging from behind the building was a bright red pick up truck, quickly followed by a maroon coloured one too. In an instant he felt the tension grow exponentially, everyone taking a deep breath in and preparing themselves for this meeting. The brakes squealed as the trucks came to a stop a few yards away, their engines falling silent as the doors swung open. Seven men stepped out, each of them carrying high powered rifles in their hands, a start contrast to the Kingdom whose hands were empty. Looking at each of them in turn Rick gauged their demeanour and confirmed his suspicions, that this was the worst case scenario.

This was no supply run, and it was no trade meeting either. This was a stand over.

"And here I was worried we were early," one of the men said in greeting, taking the lead as his group approached. He came to a stop a respectful distance away, leaving a comfortable space in the no man's land between them.

"Our arrangement is something I consider with the upmost seriousness," Ezekiel said, his tone serious but conversational. "We will fulfil out obligations on time, every time."

"You do," the man agreed with a nod of his head. "And you will." There was a pause now, and he frowned as he cast his eyes around the group and then set them on Rick. "Who's this?"

"This is Malcolm," Richard answered on his behalf.

Noting his response, Ezekiel was forced to go with it. "Malcolm been a trusted member of my community for quite some time now."

"I'm Gavin," he said, introducing himself to Rick. Thinking no more of the new addition to Ezekiel's group Gavin made his way over to the trucks and peered inside, going through the motions of counting the crates. "A dozen crates of home brew, a dozen wine, and a dozen spirits. That's good."

"You'll find it's a baker's dozen," Richard spoke up. "Thirteen of each. Happy New Year."

"Well, we appreciate your hospitality," Gavin said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "Lucky for us we brought two trucks. Now how about you load 'em up."

There was a moment's pause before Gavin stepped back, clearing the way for Ezekiel's group to come forward and unload the trucks. In complete silence they got to work, hoping to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"They're a part of another group," Dianne quietly explained. Taking his hand she accepted his help as she climbed into the back of the truck. "They call themselves the Saviours."

Waiting for her to pass him a crate to carry, Rick looked at the new group over his shoulder, certain of their connection to the biker gang. "I know who they are."

With minimal fuss they set about the work, Rick taking the first crate Dianne passed to him before carrying it over to the Saviour's trucks. It didn't escape his notice that Richard lingered by his side throughout every step, likely supervising him as he too carried a crate of the alcohol. Very quickly things started to fall into place, understanding why they had traded so much alcohol with the Kingdom when it appeared not many of them seemed to drink. They had been stock piling it for the Saviours, anticipating the surge in demand over the holidays and New Years Eve. As they waited Ezekiel and Gavin stepped aside together, looking for all the world as if they were making small talk about the weather.

Rick knew what this was, he could foresee what was coming next. These so called Saviours were clearly stand overs, a school yard bully that somehow had forced the Kingdom into submission, and now Richard wanted to get Alexandria involved. The extent of that involvement was not yet clear to him, whether it be to help them gather supplies or to defer the Saviour's attention to another victim, but Rick was certain of one thing. He had walked right into this, he had trusted the goodness of strangers and stupidly found himself in their debt. He knew what was coming, what was about to be thrown back into his face…Carl's treatment. That hadn't come from the goodness of the Kingdom's hearts, it was a bribe, leverage…a debt to be paid.

"Be careful with our beer," the long haired guy sneered as Rick set a crate down, the bottles rattling. When he didn't say anything he pressed at him, antagonising. "Hey. Does the new guy speak?"

As he crossed the rear tray and climbed down to the ground, Rick glanced at Richard before turning back to the other guy. "No," he stated clearly, defying Richard's order. He held the guy's gaze for a moment before walking away without another word, leaving Richard to deal with that jumped up little shit.

With only a few more crates to go Rick grit his teeth and kept his mouth shut, knowing that for now he needed to be on his best behaviour. Clearly there was tension between the two groups, that much was increasingly clear. As he and Jerry brought over the last remaining crate and set them into the back of the truck, it seemed the long haired guy still had more to say.

"Hey, asshole," he said, looking at Richard. "How about a smile?"

Climbing down from the back of the truck one last time, Rick made a point of keeping his distance. This was sure as hell not his fight, and he wanted no more involvement in what might happen next.

"This?" the guy continued, goading Richard. "This is nothing. We've been letting you off easy."

Richard simply turned and looked at him. "Sure you don't have that backwards, kid?" he deadpanned.

A beat passed, a smile coming over the guy's face before he laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure," he laughed, looking around at everyone to be sure he had an audience. He boldly lunged, swinging his fist towards Richard and missing spectacularly when he ducked. A split second later Richard came back up with his elbow, landing a hard blow to the the guy's face that made him stumble, and then the fight was on. With an outraged yell the guy lunged, fists swinging as the two men dissolved into a fight, the escalation prompting them all to draw their weapons. With his free hand unlatching the hatchet from its holster Rick held his Colt at the ready, he and the nearest Saviour having drawn on one another.

"Cease this," Ezekiel instructed as he started forward, sounding impatient.

Neither man stopped, the long haired guy yelling furiously when he found himself in a headlock. As he tirelessly fought his captor Rick had to withhold a grim smile, admiring the way Richard simply held him at bay and eased him down. He had been trained well to fight, the technique of keeping an attacker in a headlock coming with great ease.

"Lower your weapons," Ezekiel said firmly, looking to them all. Behind him Gavin followed, looking to his men and gesturing for them to do the same. As the others obeyed so too did Rick, lowering his first before the Saviour did. "Richard, let him go."

Unable to ignore the clear instruction Richard did as he was told, releasing the guy and then backing away from him. The guy scrambled away and panted for breath, but the look of exhilaration and excitement on his face was most unwelcome.

"This is not what we do," Ezekiel said next, looking Gavin in the eye as he said this. The two leaders looked at one another for a moment, making peace with what had happened.

"Free shots?" the guy eagerly suggested, looking around at his audience. "Oh, I love this shit."

He bounced on the balls of his feet a couple of times and then drew his fists, punching Richard in the face. Increasingly frustrated with the way this was going, Rick watched as Richard stumbled and managed to keep his balance. Yet despite the call for free shots, he did not retaliate.

"Gavin. Tell your man to stop." Despite the request, the guy punched Richard a second time, sending him stumbling to the ground. "Gavin!"

Finally Gavin stepped forward, taking control of his man. "Jared, Jared! The man said stop."

Unhappy with the command, Jared lunged for Richard and seized him by the top of his body armour, leering down at him with his fist raised. Watching on, Rick made no attempt to intervene. Like it or not, this situation had to be played out.

"They've been good to us," Gavin continued, speaking to the entire group as he helped diffuse the situation. "We've taken up enough of their time."

Wrapping things up, Ezekiel swiftly ushered his people back towards their vehicles, the Saviours too falling back. Still crouched over Richard, Jared sneered down at him before grinning, his clenched fist relaxing before he raised his middle finger. Finally he slapped Richard on the cheek and released him, looking quite proud of himself as he backed away and then climbed into the rear of the red truck, laughing with one of the others who clapped him on the back.

"Richard," Ezekiel began sternly, reprimanding him as he was helped to his feet. Blood was dripping from his nose, but he appeared to simply shake himself off. "We will discuss this."

"Same time in two weeks, Ezekiel," Gavin reminded him. "It's produce week, so…produce." He got into the front his truck, the engine starting as he lowered the window and looked out at them, still not done yet. "You got the list, not one bit less. Otherwise, you know…he's gonna have to go first."

When the Saviours left a heavy silence came over those who remained, and for a long moment they stood there motionless, taking in Gavin's parting threat to Richard. As he waited Rick looked around at each of them, noting that while Benjamin appeared shaken, the others seemed only mildly inconvenienced. They were used to this. It wasn't the first time this meeting hadn't gone smoothly. He looked at Richard now, outraged that he seemed to be avoiding his gaze, that he didn't want to confront his justified anger.

"Rick," Ezekiel began gently, approaching him in concern. "You've encountered them before?"

For a moment he didn't know what to say, words alone not adequate to describe the rage surging through his veins, the betrayal of being duped by the Kingdom for so long. With Richard still avoiding his gaze he turned to Dianne and Colton, who had been at their own trade meeting that day Rick had asked them about the biker gang who attacked his people. They had all vehemently denied any knowledge or connection…they too had to have known what they were dragging Rick in to. It was them he spoke to, them who bore the first of his disdain.

"I think you know we have."


	30. Chapter 30

A/N Hi all, hope you all had a Merry Christmas!

It's another nice long chapter, and I hope you enjoy the rare POV, for Carl.

* * *

Tuesday, 30 December

Life here in the Kingdom was good.

Though Carl loved his home community of Alexandria, there was no denying that it was far less exciting than the Kingdom. As the days and weeks passed he started to feel bad that he was having the time of his life while Enid was stuck at home, their request for her to join them having been refused. Nevertheless he didn't feel too bad for long, often finding that he simply didn't have time to think about home all that much.

Unless he was recovering from surgery, here in the Kingdom he was kept busy, not often finding himself bored or with nothing to do. School here was actually interesting, the older students made up of more than just he and Enid. There were eight of them in the high school, making it feel like an actual class with pop quizzes and grades, schoolwork that actually required his concentration, passing notes behind the teacher's back. He'd been in trouble for that the other week, the teacher having gone as far as telling his dad what he had been caught doing, not that he got the impression he was genuinely mad.

Here in the Kingdom he had a job, and not just a list of responsibilities that he and everyone else had, but an actual job. There was a roster of shifts, a boss who expected him to be there at a certain time, told him off if he was late, reprimanded him for wasting water. He loved his job, secretly enjoying the way Chef swooped around the kitchen making sure they weren't messing with the recipes, and he was learning a lot too. Throwing together a rough meal from rations was nothing compared to cooking for hundreds of people, and the more he proved his worth the more the kitchen staff allowed him to step away from the sink and try his hand at other things. The most valuable lesson he had learned, perhaps only in his opinion, was the intricacies of home brewed beer, Carl having been awed by the enormous set up they had going in one of the unused classrooms. Before he went home for Christmas the kitchen crew showed him around the setup before letting him put the caps on the bottles, seemingly impressed with how quickly he picked it up.

"For you," Marcie had offered, pouring a bottle into some plastic cups before passing one to him. "It's warm, but you'll get the idea."

Taking the cup Carl looked at it apprehensively, and to his horror he could hear his dad in the back of his mind, the promise previously made that he would only drink alcohol if he had been the one to give it to him. Though he had broken that promise once before, for he didn't feel it counted if it was only Daryl or Glenn giving it to him, today it felt weird.

"I don't know if my dad would let me," he said awkwardly, unable to believe he was refusing the opportunity to drink beer.

The others had laughed, though mercifully not at him. "You think we didn't ask your dad before showing you this?" Gino chuckled, nudging the cup closer to him. "He said go for it! Said give you-"

"No," Marcia quickly corrected him. "He said tastes only. We can't send his kid home half cut."

At this Carl laughed, feeling a little better about it. He looked into the cup and swirled it around, recalling that Carrie used to do that when she drank red wine. Were you supposed to do that with beer too?

"Just taste," Chef encouraged, patting him on the shoulder. "Appreciate the flavours, then taste another batch. All taste different. All must be tested, then ready."

"Ready for what?" he questioned, tentatively taking a sip. It took everything he had to not pull a face, for in his opinion it tasted like sour apple juice.

"Waddaya think, kid?" Tommy asked. "Taste alright?"

Forgetting his question Carl quickly nodded, looking around at the dozen or so crates of beer they had finished. "Yeah, it's great," he lied.

"It's perfect!" Tommy declared, tipping back his cup and drinking the remainder of his small serving. "Could only better if it came straight from a tit."

As the others rolled their eyes or heartily agreed, Marcia opened a bottle from another batch and dispensed that too, and Carl was grateful that she only gave him enough for a small mouthful each time. Looking back on that day he couldn't help but wonder if the beer he helped bottle was responsible for his dad's hangover today, if he had been out drinking beer all night. It had been most amusing to be woken up last night when Carol brought him home, rousing from the couch and getting out of the way so his dad could take it instead. Glassy eyed with a stupid smile on his face, his dad had given a heavy sigh as he lay down and closed his eyes, leaving poor Carol to pull off his shoes and haul his legs up onto the couch.

Until then Michonne had been sleeping on his dad's bed, presumably keeping an eye on Carl until he could come home, but she ended up spending the whole night there with him. When they roused the next morning he was feeling well enough to take a shower, and it was Michonne who accompanied him to one of the private stalls that had been reserved for him when he needed it. But before they left they had made a point of ensuring his dad regretted the big night before. While he snored on the couch, one arm dangling over the side and his mouth agape, Michonne had selected her favourite bottle of nail polish and painted his toenails, laughing so much she made a complete mess of it.

"This will teach him a lesson," she assured him, watching him in amusement when she screwed the lid back on the bottle. "God, he snores terribly when he drinks. Poor Carrie."

As if to support this statement his dad gave a particularly loud snore, his eyes fluttering open to look at each of them before slowly closing again. Still laughing their heads off Carl and Michonne had left for the showers and breakfast, and when he stepped outside he was glad to feel the sun on his face for the first time in what felt like weeks. He hated being cooped up inside as he recovered, but in reality it felt too burdensome to take even a short walk in the brief moments when he had felt well enough.

Even today, his burst of energy hadn't lasted long. Though he had hoped to attend, it soon became obvious that he wasn't well enough to go to Ada's Christening that afternoon. While his dad prepared for the supply run Michonne had brought him home, settling him onto the couch and loading a DVD into the laptop that was on loan to them during his recovery. She had stayed for a while, keeping him company for a little while before she left to take watch, wanting to be ready and on alert while his dad was out.

With Michonne gone he had turned off the DVD, figuring he could watch it later. Instead he curled up on the couch with a blanket to keep him warm, still tasting the horrible aftertaste of the pain pills he had just taken. His face hurt like hell, but so too did his shoulder and arm where the grafts had been taken. He wanted to reach for the radio on the coffee table, to ask Carol to get him some ice packs from the kitchen freezers, but even that started to feel too burdensome. Finally, he could feel the pain killers lulling him closer and closer to sleep, and if he could just shut out the world and sleep for a while then the pain would go away.

But to his frustration a knock at the door roused him. Opening his eye he looked across the room to the door, wondering who it was. His people would come straight in without knocking, so perhaps it was Mak or Brea checking on him. Nevertheless he wished he could just rest, but he knew now that the interruption had ruined his chances of falling asleep right now. Rather put out he glanced at his watch, noting he had been asleep for a while now.

"It's open," he called, trying not to sound too crabby.

At his call the door opened, and when he saw who it was he wished he had sounded nicer. It was Kelsey who slowly opened the door and looked in, cringing when she saw that she had awoken him. But Carl no longer cared about the interruption, for already his heart was pounding and his brain started to feel a little cloudy, but it had nothing to do with the pain killers. He always got like this around Kelsey, always started to feel a little nervous or unsure of himself…at least since that time they had kissed.

He'd known for weeks now that he liked Kelsey, that his stomach was in butterflies about her rather than his impending surgeries. The whole thing just came out of nowhere, for one day she had been nothing more than one of his many new friends, and then the next day he was thinking about her in a way that a friend wouldn't. All of a sudden it clicked that she was a girl, one he could hold a conversation with, who made him laugh and was interested in what he had to say…and who was really pretty.

A few weeks ago they had been playing a prank on Benjamin, getting him back for his ruthless domination during the Dodgeball tournament. With his brother Henry acting as a look out, Carl and Kelsey had emptied Benjamin's room of every item of clothing, personal belongings and furniture, hurriedly moving it all into an empty classroom further down the hall. Rushing to do it before he got back they were breathlessly running back and forth, laughing as they filled their arms with clothing and books, leaving his room emptier than it had bee in years. They hadn't left a thing behind, not even a single scrap of paper, and then they hid in Henry's room next door and waited for Benjamin to return. His reaction did not disappoint, and listening through the closed door it took everything they had not to burst into laughter.

"Where's all of my things?" Benjamin asked in confusion, sounding heartbroken. "W-what happened?"

"They moved them," Henry stated.

"Moved them? Who?"

"The grown ups."

Benjamin blustered in confusion. "B-but…but where?"

"Upstairs. Didn't they tell you?" Henry asked, their ploy having been rehearsed for days. "They need this room for someone else."

"Up…upstairs?" he asked quietly, giving a gut wrenching moan as he removed his body armour and dumped it on the floor. "Not all the way up the top?"

"Yeah."

"That's three flights of stairs!" he moaned, his slow footsteps echoing as he trudged his way towards the staircase. "Have they moved you too?"

"No, just you. I think your new room is smaller…I dunno if it even has a window."

At this Benjamin gave another sigh of disappointment, bemoaning the injustice as he climbed the staircase with his brother in tow. The moment they were sure he was out of earshot Carl and Kelsey burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs as they slowly staggered to their feet and left their hiding place. With one last look at their handiwork they made a quick escape out of the building, trying to catch their breath as they made themselves scarce. Moving a safe distance away they looked back and waited, and two minutes later Benjamin came flying out the door, his blonde curls in disarray and his cheeks flushed pink with exertion.

"Hey!" he shouted, pointing at Carl and Kelsey. "I know it was you!"

They roared with laughter, loudly denying responsibility until he suddenly gave chase, and then they turned and fled. "What was us?" Kelsey called back.

"You're moving it back!" he yelled, unable to hide his own laughter. "Everything!"

"It was Kelsey's idea!"

She playfully shoved him for that, and as if that was the catalyst Carl was suddenly reaching out, seizing her hand and wrenching her around the corner with him. Hand in hand they fled, dashing in and out of the next building and wreaking havoc when they bolted across the laundry yard dodging baskets of wet clothes. It was exhilarating, his body and mind high with elation as they quickly lost Benjamin in the maze that was the Kingdom, all the while hand in hand together. Feeling like Bonnie and Clyde they ran for their lives, Kelsey admonishing him when he stopped to pick up his fallen hat. Central Park was busy, and it was there they almost met their match, Carl's dad.

"Hey, hey!" he angrily shouted at them, having only just managed to dodge them as they ran down the path towards him. "What the hell are two you doing?"

Reluctantly slowing to a stop, Carl panted for breath as he sought an answer, highly aware that he and Kelsey were _still_ holding hands. "Ummm…getting up to no good."

His dad blinked at him in surprise, readjusting the heavy load of firewood he was carrying in his arms. But just as Carl thought he was going to get his head torn off, his dad shook his head in exasperation. "Carry on, then."

Getting their free pass they continued running, and looking forward to the moment Benjamin found them they didn't exactly make it hard for him. With the horses out of their stables they sought refuge in there, breathlessly collapsing down into the dark corner as they tried to stem their laughter. His hat askew, Carl threw his head back and looked up at the ceiling, unable to believe how much fun he was having there at the Kingdom. He loved Alexandria, but there wasn't a hell of a lot to do there these days.

"I think we've got…" Kelsey panted, trying to catch her breath. "…two minutes."

"Then what?"

"Then he'll find us."

It wasn't until much later that he realised why she thought those two minutes were so important, but the next thing he knew was that Kelsey was kissing him. It was awkward and clumsy, both of them still panting for breath, but God if it wasn't the best thing that had happened in all his life. He didn't know what he was doing or how, but somehow everything was perfect, even the embarrassing way his hands started shaking. Right then he didn't care about a damn thing, not even missing a whole god damn eye.

Benjamin had caught up to them quickly, and they just managed to pull apart when he found them hiding in the stables. After boasting their well executed prank they set about returning his belongings and restoring his bedroom, but with so many others around there wasn't much time for he and Kelsey to do anything other than look at each other with shy smiles. The day after he had left to spend Christmas in Alexandria, and then almost immediately upon his return he had his skin graft. Everything with Kelsey had been left completely up in the air, for unlike his first kiss with Enid who had promptly stated that they weren't dating, he and Kelsey didn't get to figure it out at all.

So when he found it was her knocking on his door that day, Carl wished that he wasn't half muddled up on pain killers and exhaustion. He plastered a smile on his face and hastily welcomed her in, his heart already racing while he prayed that he didn't make a fool of himself.

"How are you?" Kelsey asked, entering the apartment with the caution of one approaching a loved one on their death bed. "I can come back la-"

"No, it's okay," he quickly said, cutting her off. "It's totally cool." On the inside he cringed. _Was that too eager? Did he sound pathetic?_

Closing the door behind herself, Kelsey shrugged out of her jacket and hung it up on the hook with the others. "I wanted to come and see you yesterday, but Benjamin said it probably wasn't a good idea. Otherwise, I would have come then," she added quickly, wanting to be clear.

"It's okay," he said awkwardly. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "It's cool." _Real smooth, Grimes._

Relieved that her absence hadn't offended him, Kelsey gave one of those cute smiles that he liked more and more. She looked shy now, which was unusual given they'd become friends so easily, and then she dug around in the pocket of the coat she had just hung up.

"The kitchen crew wanted to make sure you didn't miss out," she explained, removing a cloth napkin. She made her way over and then settled herself down onto the couch beside him, and before he could enquire as to what she had brought she leant over and kissed his cheek.

There was a long pause as they both looked at one another, Kelsey looking a little embarrassed by what she had done. Summoning up all of his bravery he smiled at her and then tentatively leant over. In the brief moment before her eyes closed she looked relieved that he had returned her gesture, but the kiss they shared was polite and chaste, nothing like their first the other week. He was momentarily frustrated with himself, annoyed that he hadn't kissed her the way he wanted to…he might as well have been kissing his sister the way he kissed Kelsey.

"They made donuts for Ada's Christening," she said when they moved apart. "Are you hungry?"

Her cheeks pink she gestured to the cloth napkin before opening it, and Carl's mouth began to water as the sweet, cinnamon aroma wafted up to him, the donuts small but abundant. "Starving," he lied, for although he really didn't feel like eating much today, he would force down a three course meal if it meant she stayed.

"I bought extras for your dad too," she said, closing the napkin after he had selected one to try. "He's out right now, isn't he?"

"On a supply run," he answered, his mouth full of donut. He tried not to moan, for it tasted even better than he had anticipated. He had never doubted the Kingdom's kitchen staff. "You're the best, seriously."

"Are you coming to the Christening?" she asked, turning to face him as she made herself comfortable.

"What time is it?"

"They said three o'clock, but I think we just have to wait until the baby's ready."

"Yeah, babies are rude like that."

At this she laughed, and when she moved a little closer to him he was certain he saw her hands shake. "Can I tell you something without you thinking I'm terrible?"

"Nah, I'll probably think you're terrible."

She told him anyway. "I think babies are kind of ugly," she whispered. "Don't you think Ada looks horrible?"

"Like a squashed potato!" he exclaimed, glad to find someone likeminded.

"Yes! Her face is all squashed together."

"They're not all ugly," he assured her, feeling rather knowledgeable. "My nephew was kind of weird looking at first, but my sister wasn't. She was cute."

Kelsey smiled. "I think they call that brotherly bias. Do you miss her much?"

Carl nodded, feeling that familiar ache in his chest. "Yeah, I miss her heaps," he admitted, surprised by how much. Perhaps he had never thought about it quite like this, but Judith was his connection to his mom, her life a reminder that she had died for a reason. Being away from her felt strange, leaving with this odd feeling that he had forgotten to do something important.

"Your step-mom's having a baby too, right?" Kelsey asked eagerly, sounding excited.

"She's not my step-mom," he said automatically, and then hastened to correct himself. "I mean, she is _technically_ …it's just a weird name, that's all. But yeah, she's having a baby in March."

"Boy or girl?"

He shrugged. "They dunno." He paused for a moment, wondering how honest he could be with Kelsey. "I'm kind of hoping for a boy. Is that bad?"

She shook her head with a smile, her brown curls bouncing. "Nah. Little brothers are awesome."

"You had one, right? A little brother?"

This time she nodded, and though her smile faded a little it wasn't gone completely. She moved a little closer to him on the couch, their knees touching one another now. "His name was Hal. You'll like having a little brother."

"I-I don't know if it's a boy," he reminded her, his throat starting to feel a little dry. She was sitting very close now, and she had that eager look in her eyes. "It could be another girl."

"Then you can…ummm," she began awkwardly, trailing off as she tried to think of something. Giving up the pretence she changed tact, getting straight to the point. "When is your dad getting back?"

He swallowed heavily, resisting the urge to let his hands lunge at her, for he wasn't quite sure she'd like where they wanted to land. "He's, ummm," he started, glancing at his watch. "Any minute now."

Not deterred, she moved closer again until their legs were completely pressed up against one another. Without letting himself think too hard he leant in and kissed her, relieved when it seemed to be the right move. He felt the excitement growing inside his chest, thrilled that what happened the other week really hadn't been a one time thing. That's what had happened with Enid, the two of them having kissed that one time months ago, but as if it had never happened neither of them ever mentioned it again. She'd never shown interest in him as more than a friend, she'd never tried to kiss him…Kelsey on the other hand was making herself very clear.

He almost lurched in surprise when he felt her tongue on his lips, but fortunately something clicked in his brain, reminding him that was a good thing. When he felt her doing it again he tried to reciprocate, and after a few awkward attempts they seemed to figure it out. To his disappointment he felt her shudder, so he pulled away and looked at her in trepidation.

"Is something wrong?" he panted, praying that there wasn't. "Did I do something…wrong?"

She was looking at him incredulously, brow furrowed. "No," she said, peering at him. "Why'd you stop?"

"Oh," he muttered, his cheeks going red with embarrassment. _He'd stuffed it up, it was ruined_. "I thought you didn't like it."

She laughed at him now, her eyes crinkling in amusement, but just when he thought it was all over she made clear that it wasn't. Shaky with either nerves or excitement, she took his hand that he only just realised was awkwardly hovering in the air, and then she placed it on her waist. They kissed again, even more eagerly than before, but Carl could barely concentrate on anything other than where his hand was on her body. His heart was pounding out of his chest, blood roaring through his head and…other parts of him too. With his free hand he readjusted the blanket a little, pulling it higher up his lap and bundling it a little. He couldn't let her notice that he was getting a boner, not wanting her to think that he was going to try anything on her…not that he'd mind if she wanted him to.

"This is really nice," she panted against his lips, her breath shaky. "I-"

"I really like you," he blurted out, his body taking over his mind. He had to say it, he absolutely had to or he'd never summon the nerve again.

Not unexpectedly Kelsey pulled away and opened her eyes, and he looked at her in trepidation, dreading what she was going to say. _This is it. She doesn't like me…at least not like that_.

"I really like you too," she breathed in relief, practically beaming now. "I've had this mad crush on you for ages."

He gaped at her in astonishment, part of him unable to believe it. In the back of his mind he felt reserved, suspecting that it was all a trick, that she couldn't possibly have a crush on a one eyed freak like him. That was probably why Enid had never kissed him again, because the sight of him revolted her, because she pitied him. But before he could think about it too much Kelsey was kissing him again, and like before she was holding nothing back, kissing him with all she had. Quickly catching up he returned her enthusiasm, tentatively moving his hand further around her back before daring to creep upward. She seemed not to mind, the only change being the way she draped her arms over his shoulders, pulling him closer.

They were almost completely touching now, they were close enough that he could pull her flush against him if he wanted, but he dared not. Instead he started following her lead, so when she slipped her hand up his neck and into his hair he did the same to her, trailing her thick brown curls through his fingers. His other hand was still on the centre of her back, and then moments later he could feel the strap of her bra against his fingertips. As if for the first time it suddenly clicked that she was wearing a bra, that she had boobs. He'd noticed that weeks ago of course, had tried to hide the fact that he was looking at them more than a friend would, but he hadn't given them any more thought than that. Now though things were different…if he became her boyfriend then maybe he'd be able to see them one day, or even be able to touch them. It was this kind of thought that made the situation he was hiding beneath the blanket even more worrisome, and he reminded himself to ensure that it didn't slip down and ruin everything.

He had just considered trying to slip his hand underneath the back of her sweater, and would that count as second base or just creeping the bases, but an interruption saw them breaking apart. His heart leaping into his throat Carl looked around in utter fury when the door opened, furious that someone had been rude enough to ruin this for him. It was his dad bursting in, and without thought he burst to his feet in utter outrage, ready to tear his father limb from limb.

"Dad! What the…"

Suddenly realising his mistake, Carl trailed off in horror before grabbing the blanket that had started to slip down when he stood, and when he dared look up he had a new understanding of the term glaring daggers. Dad was furious, his shoulders tense and jaw set, but there was also that dark look in his eyes, one that said someone was about to get their head ripped off. Apprehensively awaiting his fate he gulped heavily, quickly glancing around at Kelsey who sat on the couch readjusting her shirt. It had been pushed up…was that his doing?

"D-dad," he stammered in embarrassment, his inability to form a sentence surely making things worse. "It's not what it looks like," he concluded lamely.

To his sheer astonishment his head wasn't torn clean off his shoulders. Instead his dad seemed to be bracing himself, and his own hands were shaking when he looped his thumb around his duty belt and lowered his gaze to the floor. "Kelsey, I'm afraid it's time for you to go. Thanks for stopping by."

"I have to get to choir rehearsal anyway," she said quietly, her voice a little above a whisper. She got up from the couch and headed for the door, she and Carl barely able to look one another in the eye. "Bye, Mr Grimes." At the last minute she stopped in the threshold, hesitating. "See you around, Carl."

With that she was gone, and relieved that he wasn't going to be further humiliated in front of her Carl simply braced himself to endure whatever would come next. His dad had always been really cool about this kind of thing, never avoiding the truth when Carl asked him different questions about girls and sex, but today he got the feeling that things were going to be different. His dad was still looking at the floor, and so he quickly took the opportunity to wipe the saliva from around his mouth. He readjusted the blanket he held in front of him, and if his Dad had noticed the reason why he was suddenly so attached to it he mercifully didn't say anything.

"We weren't doing anything bad," he started, needing to explain himself. "I-I wasn't eve-"

Clearing his throat his dad cut him off, finally raising his head and coming forward. "I don't care about what happened with Kelsey," he said calmly, looking him in the eye. "You need to pack your things. Now."

Blinking, Carl was certain he had misheard. "Pack my things?" he questioned, frowning when his dad nodded. "I mean…I know I wasn't supposed to have a girl in here, but you don't have-"

"I want you to pack your things, now," he repeated, his tone less calm now. He marched into their bedroom area and reached under the bed, retrieving their empty packs and tossing them onto the beds. "We're leaving for home. Do you know where the others are? Carol?"

"We can't go home."

"Where's Carol?"

"We can't go home," he said firmly, stating to panic. _No! Not now!_ "It's too soon."

"Where's Carol?" his dad yelled, losing his temper.

Carl looked at him, startled. The earlier look he had on his face was back now, one of anger, rage. "I don't know."

This was not the answer his dad was looking for, and he closed his eyes and rubbed the space between his eyes, trying to think. When he spoke next he seemed calmer, but still angry. "Pack your things," he repeated. "My stuff too. Everything."

Realising that he was serious, Carl's heart sank. Something had happened, something terrible. "Is someone dead?" he asked quietly, dreading the answer. The last time they had to pack up and go at a moment's notice it was Spencer's death, but even then they didn't have to pack _everything_.

"We're going home," his dad said, turning on his heel and heading for the door. "That's all you need to know."

Without further explanation he was gone, leaving Carl standing there in the middle of their apartment completely flabbergasted. He let the blanket fall to the floor, for his poorly timed boner was no longer an issue any more, and for a moment he simply tried to make sense of what happened. Barely a minute ago he'd been making out with Kelsey, trying to summon the courage to slip his hand under her shirt or ask if she'd be his girlfriend, and now they were leaving? But before he could despair over the loss his attention was diverted by the sound of raised voices coming from across the hall, and despite his dad's instructions to start packing he crept towards the door.

Cracking it open he peered through the gap into the open door across the hall, the apartment that Michonne, Carol and Denise shared. The voices were coming from in there, a growing argument of some kind, and desperate to know more he opened the door and stepped out into the hall. He recognised one voice as his dad, but it took another moment to recognise Mak, for his doctor so very rarely raised his soft voice above the volume of a pleasant conversation. They were arguing about something, things starting to make sense when he looked down the hall. Ten yards down stood Richard, his arms folded as he leant against the wall waiting, staring at the floor. Also lingering nervously was Brea, and it was she who noticed his presence there. Though she hesitated at first she came towards him now, looking at him in concern.

"Carl, it's imperative that you stay in the Kingdom," she started gently. "You're aware of the risks your recovery poses, of-"

Her words were drowned out by the argument inside the other apartment, his dad having lost his temper and lashed out.

"It is my decision, we're leaving!"

"You can go to Timbuktu for all I give a damn," Mak argued, his voice too escalating. "But Carl is not leaving my care."

"I'm his father, it's m-"

"His father or not, no one in the Kingdom will allow you to take him home without my approval. That is a fight you will not win."

There was a short pause, his dad taking a deep breath. "I think you've misunderstood. I'm not asking permission to take him. I'm telling you."

"You and I had an agreement that Ca-"

"Fuck our agreement!" his dad roared, his words followed by a heavy thud. "You hear me? He is my fucking son, I am taking him home! If you want to argue about it, take it up with Richard!"

Carl jolted, feeling his heart beating in the base of his throat. His dad so rarely yelled or cursed like that, especially at someone he respected as much as Mak. Something was seriously wrong, this understanding compelling him to slowly take a few steps back towards their own apartment. His timing bad, his dad appeared in the doorway and looked at him in frustration, directing his anger at him now.

"I told you to pack!" he shouted at him, gesturing into the apartment. "Go!"

Ignoring Brea who compelled him to stay and hear her out, Carl turned on his heel and raced back inside, unable to ignore the seriousness of whatever was happening. He was scrambling like a madman now, seizing their belongings and stuffing them into bags at random, mind racing as he tried to keep track of what else he needed to retrieve, getting the feeling that they couldn't come back for anything.

The argument across the hall continued, Brea too intervening and trying to make herself heard, but it seemed his dad wasn't having any of it. Noticing movement from the corner of his eye he dropped his pack and headed towards the windows, his trepidation growing when he saw what was going on outside. Though calm and without malice it was clear that the Kingdom's militia was mobilising, people gathering outside the buildings, some clad in their body armour, most carrying guns. There weren't many of them, no more than eight or nine, but their mere presence there was enough to fill Carl with dread.

 _Had their deal about his medical treatment gone bad? Were they trapped here now?_

Noticing that they were looking at him through the windows he hastened to close the drapes, rushing back into the living room to do the same there. Plunging the room into darkness he took action, going to their gun safe and taking out his gun. His hands were shaking as he rushed to put his leg holster on, starting to feel nauseas and light headed…was it fear, or the pills he had taken not so long ago? Across the hall things had quietened, but there wasn't time for him to dwell on the change, for moments later his dad was standing in the threshold.

"What's going on?" Carl asked him, peering past him into the hallway.

Now his dad no longer seemed angry, noticeably calmer with a decisive look on his face, but the problem itself still lingered. He looked Carl up and down before coming inside and taking his coat from where it hung, roughly passing it to him and telling him to put it on. With a glance over his shoulder to ensure no one was looking inside he made his way into the bedroom and then moved aside the heavy chest of drawers that had been delivered to them the day they moved into this classroom and made it their temporary home. Crouching down his dad reached behind it, and a light clinking came as he removed the two sets of car keys they kept for emergencies…like now.

"Dad."

"I'll explain later," he said shortly, stuffing the keys into his duty belt before reaching behind again and removing the spare guns they had hidden there. He stuffed one into the back of his jeans and passed the other to Carl. "Leave our things," he instructed, allowing him only to pick up his hat before sweeping him towards their door. "Don't say a word to anyone, don't ask any questions."

They stepped out into the corridor together, his dad practically gripping the back of his jacket to keep him close. As they made their way down Carl looked over his shoulder, seeing Brea, Mak and Richard still lingering outside their room, dissatisfied with the conclusion of whatever had gone on.

"One question," Carl requested, feeling it was fair. "Where're the others?"

"Michonne's waiting outside. Carol and Denise…we'll have to find them later."

"We can't leave them here!" he protested, keeping his voice no louder than an urgent whisper. "Dad, if something's happening, th-"

"Just do what I tell you."

Recognising that as an instruction to shut up, Carl stopped talking and moved his hand to the handle of his holstered gun, the place he kept it when he felt danger. In one swift move he could have it in his hands, but he knew the rules here in the Kingdom, that even having it in his hands was considered a huge faux pas, a threat. Nevertheless he kept it there, still not understanding the scope of what was happening right now, exactly what they were up against.

When they left their building they made it barely five paces before being stopped, and not even his dad's decisiveness and determination was enough to keep them going. The group of militia who had been waiting outside their window had met them at the end of the building, intercepting them just as they tried to leave. Having not realised they were there his dad came to a rough stop, his grip on the back of Carl's jacket tightening. Michonne was already ahead of them, her arms folded as they engaged in a stand off of sorts, but it seemed not to last. Slowly she turned around, her expression strange when she glanced at Carl before looking to his dad. The silence was excruciating, everyone in the vicinity waiting to see what would be decided, whether their former guests would be fighting their way out of here, or if they would surrender.

"Rick," Colton began, stepping forward as he holstered his gun. He clasped his hands together in front of him, making it clear he was no threat. "Only the people here know what happened today. It doesn't have to go any further than this. Things can go back to normal."

His dad let out a short breath, incredulous. He took a small step back, bringing Carl with him. "It's too late for that."

"We cannot allow him leave," Colton continued, gesturing to Carl. "I think you know it's in his best interests. We care about him like he's our own."

Turning back to Michonne his dad seemed to be appealing to her, the two of them having a silent conversation with only their eyes. It was then that Carl realised that Michonne didn't have her katana in hand, that she didn't look ready for a fight. Her lips moved now, she was mouthing something to his dad, but it was so quick he couldn't make it out. Increasingly frustrated and ready for a fight, adrenaline surging through his body, Carl looked around to further scope out what they were up against. With a sinking heart he noticed Chef and Gino among those who wouldn't let them leave, and Benjamin clad in his body armour and carrying a gun. Despite their friendship Benjamin wouldn't look at him, avoiding his gaze at all costs and instead standing ready to stop them.

Beside him his dad's body language changed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He released his grip on his jacket and reached behind himself, removing the spare gun from the back of his waistband. "Carl, go back inside."

He looked at him in shock, reluctantly taking the gun that was passed to him. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. Go inside."

"Dad!" he protested in a low whisper. "We can't just roll over! If we need to go, th-"

"Go inside," he repeated a second time, the tension in his tone only growing. "Do not make me ask again."

For a long moment he hesitated, looking at Michonne expectantly, waiting for her declaration that they were going to do whatever they needed to, but it was quickly clear he wasn't getting that support from her. Instead she looked at him from the corner of her eye and gave him an ever so slight nod of encouragement, asking him to trust them.

Frustrated and scared, Carl spared one last glance at Benjamin before turning on his heel and leaving. Marching back inside his building he was glad to note that the others had made themselves scarce, that Mak, Brea and Richard were gone. He rushed back into his apartment and closed the door behind himself, locking it for good measure, and then he went to the windows. Trying to be subtle about it he pulled back the drapes and tried to see out to the end of the building where everyone was standing, but was frustrated to find them all dispersing. Whatever was going on seemed to be over as quickly as it startec, done with now that the Kingdom appeared to have his dad's assurance that he wasn't going anywhere. Chef and Gino were returning to the kitchens, their expressions giving nothing away, and Benjamin followed them.

Carl closed the drapes again and resumed his former task, packing their things. His mind was racing with questions, heart beating so fast he was worried he might throw up, though perhaps that was the pain pills. Hands shaky and head growing faint, he continued stuffing their belongings into their packs, getting as much crammed in as possible before deciding to leave the rest. He deposited them by the door and was about to open it, to rush across the hall and do the same with Michonne, Carol and Denise's belongings, but something stronger compelled him to sit down for a moment.

He sunk down onto the couch, suddenly remembering how exhausted he had been even before Kelsey came by to pay him a visit. His stomach churned in worry, his mind still racing, and he barely had it in him to think about her, to despair over the relationship that had stopped before it even started. When the door opened he wasn't alarmed for they had put that lock on themselves, and anyone who had a key was to be trusted. Blinking, he raised his head and found Carol entering quietly, closing and locking the door behind her. In her back pocket was a pair of gardening gloves, the dirt on the knees of her jeans indicating what she had been doing when all the commotion began.

"Are you alright?" she asked shortly, coming over to him and pressing her hand to his forehead. Satisfied with his temperature she started fussing, taking his water bottle and filling it from their small tank. "What happened?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," he muttered quietly. "Have you seen Dad?"

"No. Benjamin came to find me, said something was going on."

"You don't know anything?" he questioned in annoyance, only just remembering to thank her for the fresh water. "Dad completely lost his shit. He was yelling… _swearing_ at people."

Giving little discernible reaction to that, Carol simply clicked her fingers and gestured for the guns he had on him, and when he handed them over she grabbed the blanket from the floor and tossed it over him.

"You're pale," she commented, stuffing the spare gun into the back of her own jeans. "Get some sleep."

Unable to argue with how unwell he was starting to feel, the commotion having taken a lot out of him in a very short time, he mostly did as instructed. Though he settled into the pillows and tossed his hat onto the coffee table he didn't actively try to get any rest, instead watching Carol's every move. She too unnerved, she took a chair from their small table and brought it over to the centre of the room, taking a seat so that she was facing the door. There was no doubt that she was guarding him, having placed herself directly between the couch and the door with her hand resting comfortably on the grip of her holstered gun.

"Carol? Do we have to leave?"

There was a pause before she answered, taking her time to consider the question. "I wouldn't bother unpacking."

* * *

The sun was low in the sky, the time approaching four thirty in the afternoon. Pulling his jacket higher up his neck Rick was making his way through the barn situated on what had once been a school football field. Though others usually tended to this chore, today the Kingdomers were keeping their distance from him, and given he had spent the afternoon sitting on the paddock fence watching the cattle it was no surprise the cows had not been attended to. Glad for something to do, Rick went about the usual checks of the bedding and water troughs, giving each cow a once over as they came inside and settled for the night. He was tempted to stay in there a little longer, having already procrastinated by checking and double checking everything he possibly could, but eventually enough was enough. He couldn't stay out there forever…he had to go back some time.

Having managed to waste a good half hour, Rick made his way back out to the paddock fence where Michonne was still waiting, she too seated on top of the wooden fence. Rejoining her, Rick slipped through to the other side and then leant against the wooden railing, neither saying a word. The two of them had spent hours discussing what had happened on the supply run, the implications for Alexandria, for their families. By now there was nothing left to say, nothing to discuss. The biker gang that had held up Daryl, Abraham and Sasha were no one off. Negan and the Saviours were real, not just a figment of someone's imagination or a terrible nightmare. And now they were Alexandria's terrible nightmare too, but what could they do about it? He dreaded the thought of going home and telling his community the truth, that the very thing they had worried about for months was true. There was another group out there, bigger and stronger than the Kingdom, malevolent and malicious in their ways.

Still wracking his brains for the perfect solution he glanced up at Michonne, wishing she would say something. But just as she had been for the last few hours she sat atop the fence leaning forward, her elbows resting on her knees and her face set in a scowl. She had been on watch when Rick and the run crew returned to the Kingdom a few hours ago, had seen the way he leapt from the back of the truck and stormed off with Richard in hot pursuit.

"Rick….Rick," Richard said, hastily catching up to him. Darting in front of him he forced Rick to stop in his tracks, trying to make him listen. "Obviously we need to talk about what just happened."

Rick stared at him for a moment, fuming. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I know what you're going to do," he said, falling into step beside him as he set off again. "But you can't. You can't leave, it's too soon for Carl to go."

Seeing Michonne practically jumping down from the watch post, Rick gestured for her to follow, and then lead the way around the inside of the walls. With most people avoiding proximity to the walls that protected them this was the best place for privacy, the best place for he and Richard to have it out and to tell Michonne at the same time. As they walked he glared at Richard from the corner of his eye, noting that there was still dried blood on his upper lip and chin, that his cheek was swelling. This wasn't the first time he had seen him with a bruised or cut up face, though at least he had en explanation.

"Why do you think I brought you with us?" Richard asked urgently, trying to fill the silence. "You need to know what's going on."

At this Rick let out an incredulous laugh, and he briefly slowed to a stop. Behind him Michonne had caught up, but she was keeping her distance, allowing them to have it out together. "If that was true, you have warned me about them the moment we met, the moment I asked you who that biker group was. I know what you've done…what you're trying to do."

"What am I trying to do?"

"I owe you now. I'm in your debt," he spat. "I can't believe I fell for it."

Richard slowly shook his head. "Carl's treatment is not a bribe."

"A bribe would have been to tell me about it first. You've deceived me," he accused. "You made sure that you had me in your debt, and then you told me the price to be paid. I'm sorry, but it's not going to happen."

"Rick, please" he implored, following him as he walked away again. "Hear me out."

When Richard seized him by the shirt he slowed to a stop just as he wanted, but as he slowly turned he made a point of moving his hand towards the hatchet on his duty belt. "Take your hand off me. Now."

Noting the weapon he was reaching for, Richard took his hand back without delay, but he wasn't giving up yet. Again he moved in front of Rick, preventing him from leaving. "Ezekiel doesn't want to fight them. He wants to keep this deal."

"That's got nothing to do with me."

"I need your help!" Richard shouted, losing all composure. "I cannot sit back and do nothing. I cannot just watch this happen to us without doing something about it!"

"You don-"

"When I did that, I lost my wife," he said emphatically, speaking over him. "I lost her because I did nothing. Then I lost my daughter too," he said, pausing for a moment as he tried to compose himself. But when he spoke again he voiced was strained, his eyes conveying the pain he felt. "You know what that's like, except you got your daughter back. You got yours back, but I didn't!"

Acknowledging the magnitude of that didn't excuse anything, though it did make him take pause. "I'm sorry for what happened to you," he began gently, meaning it. "I'm sorry for what's happening to you now. But it is not my fight."

"It is."

Rick shook his head, glancing at Michonne. "I cannot involve my community in a fight, we have too much at stake. I'm sorry."

"That's exactly why you should involve yourself in this," Richard argued, not taking no for an answer. "You and I both agreed it's not the dead who are the threat, it's the living. The Saviours might not be your problem right now, but I guarantee they will be soon."

At this Michonne intervened, her hackles raised by the insinuation. "Is that a threat?" she questioned, having heard enough to figure out what was going on. "Are you going to tell them about Alexandria?"

Startled that Michonne was present, Richard took a deep breath. "I considered that at first," he said candidly, more honest than he had to be. "It would have helped the Kingdom, deflected attention for a while, but then I met you, Rick," he continued, turning to him. "You told me about the herd in the quarry, what you were doing about it."

"You wanted us to take care of the problem for you, right?" he recalled. "You wanted me to send them north."

"I wanted you on my side," Richard said emphatically, begging him to listen. "What you did with that herd took guts. What you did with the Wolves, and then everything you told me last night! I knew I had to have you on my side."

Again he shook his head, his mind unchanged. "I have too much at stake to risk helping you." Wanting the conversation to be finished he tried to leave, knowing what he needed to do next, but still Richard wasn't done.

"The Saviours are closing in on you," he said heavily, the words making Rick slow to a stop yet again. "They've been looking for you for months now, ever since you took out those bikers. They can't be far off now."

At this his heart began to sink, his worst case scenario coming to mind. He glanced at Michonne, she too recognising the magnitude. "You couldn't have warned me then?" he asked, incredulous that after keeping that to himself Richard would ask for his help. "I asked you if you knew who they were, and you said no."

Looking suitably regretful, Richard tried to explain. "I needed you to owe me first," was his reluctant admission.

"So I was right?" he questioned. "All of this was false pretence? You promised to take care of my son, to help my community…and now you want me to pay a price we didn't agree on."

"I'm an asshole," he said bluntly, stepping closer and imploring Rick to hear him. "But that's nothing on them. These Saviours, they're savages."

"Savages or not, they're you're problem, not mine."

"They are going to find you," he insisted, imploring him to hear. "And when they do, that first day is going to _destroy_ you. I don't want that to happen, Rick. Not again."

"They haven't found us yet, we'll be ready if they do."

"No, you won't be. You can't ever be ready for them. Help me now, and we can finish this before it reaches you…before they destroy your family."

For a long moment Rick fell silent, giving genuine consideration to what Richard had said. The logic in his strategy was solid, strike first before these Saviours found them, maintain the advantage for as long as possible. But he couldn't bring himself to agreement, not like this.

"This is not how I work," he said lowly, turning to Michonne and gesturing for her to follow. "I will not be lured here under false pretences, and then blindsided by your problems."

"Last night we agreed that our communities would help each other," he reminded him. "That we would work together."

"To trade resources, breed livestock. I am not helping you start a war that we have no business in!"

Done with hearing any more, Rick and Michonne walked away without another word. To him there was nothing more to say, nothing more to think about. Alexandria was having nothing to do with this, he wasn't going to involve them in a war if he didn't have to. They would bunker down for a while, stay hidden and…and wait to be found. At this thought Rick started walking a little faster, both he and Michonne knowing what they had to do without delay. They needed to get out of there, to get home to Alexandria and protect their community…but first they had to get Carl.

"He's going to find Mak," Michonne said shortly, watching over her shoulder the direction Richard took. "He'll use him to stop us."

"I'll get Carl," he decided, glancing at his watch. "Find the others and meet me outside our building in thirty minutes."

Michonne shook her head, refusing his instruction as they both broke into a run. "Carl first."

As they rushed through the Kingdom to get to his son before anyone else it quickly became apparent that just as Rick's group worked well together, so too did the Kingdom. Already the militia seemed to be mobilising, everyone somehow knowing what Rick was going to do, that he wanted to take Carl and flee. It made them run faster, shoving their way past someone carrying a heavy load of fresh vegetables from the gardens, and very quickly they made it back to the building they occupied rooms in. Leaving Michonne to wait outside, Rick entered and rushed down the corridor, but to his frustration it seemed Richard was faster than him.

As if Richard had preplanned it, Mak and Brea were already waiting in the hall outside their apartment, anticipating Rick's hurried attempt to take his son. Immediately they advanced on him, making their protests, but he ignored them and entered his apartment, unwilling to hear anything they had to say. But barely had he closed the door was he rendered dumb, shocked to find Carl locking lips with someone, a mess of brown curls and her stomach exposed by her sweater riding up. As he watched his son pull away from her and look up at him in horror, his lips red and swollen and face flushed with humiliation, Rick could only question when that had started. He didn't know that Carl had a girlfriend…how could he have missed that?

Carl's reaction to being interrupted was nothing short of what Rick could have expected, momentary outrage followed by crippling humiliation and dread, but now was not the time to address it. When he clutched at the blanket to keep it on his front Rick lowered his gaze to the floor, trying to spare his son any further embarrassment, but even then there was little time to address the situation he had just walked in on. Quickly sending Kelsey on her way, Rick braced himself to deliver the news that they needed to leave, and though Carl had at first protested he did as he was asked. It was then that things started to get bad.

Having preplanned all of it, Richard already had his cards in hand, prepared to stop Rick leaving the Kingdom before the time was right. Mak refused to allow him to leave, and though Rick wasn't asking for his permission to take his son home, it soon became clear that it wasn't up to him. He was cornered, trapped here at the Kingdom until _they_ decided he could take Carl home. Standing out there with Carl by his side, both of them armed and ready to leave, one look at Michonne told him all he needed to know. They couldn't fight their way out of this…they would lose everything. Colton was right. These people loved Carl like he was their own. The situation with the Saviours meant nothing to them…they would not allow him to take Carl home. Until they did, they were trapped here.

It was then Rick was forced to concede, knowing he had no choice but to play by their rules. They couldn't start a gunfight in the middle of the Kingdom, for he knew how touchy they were about the fact that he and his group carried weapons. He would be shot as quickly as he could draw, Michonne would be caught in the crossfire, and Carl would be the only one spared. Michonne's expression communicated so much to him in that one moment, as did the two words she mouthed to him.

 _"Not now."_

Faced with on discernible option, Rick was forced to send Carl back inside, to admit defeat, even if only temporarily. Now following Michonne's lead they made themselves scarce to find privacy, and it was then he filled her in on what happened, giving her every detail, rehashing each and every one of Richard and the Kingdom's betrayals. By now they had hit a wall, unable to progress any further until they grit their teeth and spoke to Richard. They couldn't take Carl home to Alexandria, they couldn't tell either community lest it create a panic and uproar…but nor could they sit on their hands and do nothing. The solution was evasive, taunting them.

As he wracked his brain for a solution, Rick rifled around in the pouches of his duty belt. In the one where he kept a photograph of his family and the hand drawn birthday card he'd received from his children, he also kept a cigarette. He hadn't been pretending when he quit smoking. For weeks he'd been the crabbiest bastard to ever grace Alexandria, but he had allowed himself to keep one. In moments like this he liked to take it out and roll it back and forth between his fingers, turning it over and over on each end. He wasn't going to smoke it, he just liked having it around, knowing that it was there should he ever need it…not that he would. It was old and squashed, half the tobacco having fallen out already, and surely it would taste terrible.

They needed to go home. Alexandria was in danger, and he was here in the Kingdom passing the time. Carl would understand, wouldn't he? The worst of his surgeries were over now, and in a couple of days he would be back to his old self, working the breakfast shift in the kitchen before attending school in the afternoon. He and Denise could stay here for as long as they needed to, allowing Rick, Michonne and Carol to go back to Alexandria. They had to prepare the community, get them ready and braced for some kind of an attack. Compromises had to be made, and Carl would understand…wouldn't he?

Still turning the cigarette over and over on it's end, Rick took a heavy breath and tried to get his thoughts in order. He and Michonne had discussed every possibility, and though they had come to a tentative approach he was still unsatisfied. It didn't feel like enough, he needed to be doing more even though he had to agree his rightful place was with his son. Nevertheless they had a plan, they even had ideas and strategies…now all they had to do was decide which way they were going. Would they send their community into hiding and hope for the best, pray that Richard didn't set the Saviours on to them in attempt to deflect attention from his own community? Or, would he bring his community into a war, risking their lives in a pre-emptive strike against a future threat?

He was still wearing his body armour from the run earlier, and as if that would help fix things he shrugged off his coat and then began unclipping the armour. Letting it fall to the ground where he stood he looked at it in annoyance, reminded of the efforts he had gone to in order to fit in at the Kingdom. At the time it had been necessary to fit in, to make connections with people and develop a sense of comradeship. Being an outsider wasn't going to help, particularly given his former intentions of staying well into the new year and maintaining a trade relationship thereafter. Now the armour that helped him fit in felt redundant.

Michonne gave a low whistle, a brief nudge to his shoulder making him look up. In the distance a figure was approaching, and from the silhouette and gait he could make out that it was Richard. Having expected this sooner or later Rick gave no little reaction, not having it in him to be angry any more. Perhaps the anger had passed, because now all he felt was fear…powerlessness. His hands were metaphorically tied until he and the others could reach a decision. Until then there was nothing he could do.

Jumping down from the fence, Michonne brushed her hands off on the front of her jeans. "I'm going home. I'll make sure he's eaten," she added, not needing to clarify who she referred to. "What do I tell him?"

Staring at his cigarette, Rick considered the question that had been on his mind all afternoon, one of the many that were still unanswered. "Tell him I overreacted. A bad supply run…a close call with a Walker. Anything."

"Anything but the truth?"

He hesitated, hating the lie. "Yes. For now."

With a short nod followed by a heavy sigh, Michonne slowly set off back towards the school. She and Richard approached and then passed one another without incident, without so much as a word between them, and that was likely the best way for it to be. A minute later Richard's footsteps were audible, and he approached with caution as if waiting for Rick to lash out at him. When he removed a lighter from his pocket and offered it to him Rich shook his head, refusing it. Accepting the offer to light his cigarette was not going to be the first in a series of bad decisions he made due to Richard's encouragement.

"You've got some nerve coming here," he commented, not looking at him any more than necessary.

There was a brief pause and then Richard came to his side, leaning one elbow against the wooden fence as he looked at Rick. "I've already been punched in the face today. One more time isn't going to make a difference."

Rick didn't say anything at this, though he had no intention of lashing out physically. He was tired…of everything. Instead he stayed silent, his eyes cast over the empty paddock. Richard was the one who approached him, he was the one with something to say. Sooner than Rick expected, he finally began.

"Ezekiel wasn't expecting you on the supply run today," he admitted. "He had asked me not to invite you until Carl's recovery had progressed a little more. They knew you'd be upset."

"Upset is a little inadequate, don't you think?"

Nodding in agreement, Richard seemed to steel himself before continuing, and when he spoke he sounded like he was relieving himself of quite the burden.

"I'm on my own here, Rick. No one who knows about the Saviours wants to fight them. Even if they do want to fight, no one wants to go against Ezekiel's decision to stand down." There was a pause as Richard expectantly waited for him to say something, and when he didn't he continued. "He won't tell the people because he knows they'll want to fight too…they won't want some other group walking all over us. Ezekiel wants peace, to protect as many lives as possible. To him, it's a better trade off than losing people simply to keep our resources safe."

"Then why fight them?" Rick asked bluntly. "If the cost of peace is some supplies every couple of weeks, then why fight them?" Even as he said this he knew he was talking out of his ass, that were he in Richard's position he wouldn't have stood for the aggressors taking advantage.

"Because it's never going to last," Richard said emphatically. "This so called peace is hanging by a thread, but Ezekiel won't see it. He _hasn't_ seen any of it, not the way I have."

"What way is that?"

At this question Richard visibly braced himself, the motion making Rick look around at him. It was then he saw the pain on Richard's face, the anguish he'd been keeping to himself for so long.

"Benjamin and Henry. Their father was the first to die. This guy Negan…he made an example of it."

"Negan?" Rick confirmed, having heard that name from the biker gang. "He's the leader of the Saviours?"

Nodding, Richard turned and set his hands onto the fence, gripping it tightly. "We hadn't done anything to the Saviours when this started. We'd crossed paths with them before, told them to go fuck themselves a couple of times. Then one day were on a supply run, and there they were rounding us up like animals. There had to be over a hundred of them, and this time Negan was there too. He told us what he was going to do, but…" he stopped for a moment, his voice having begun to waver. "He beat Frank to death with a baseball bat…just to show us he could."

When his stomach turned he forced himself to look away. He had to distance himself from this, to not be influenced by the emotion and turmoil he could hear in Richard's voice. As cold as it was, none of this was his problem. "Benjamin told me his father was killed by Walkers."

"Should I have told him the truth? Should I have told them that their father's murderer laughed at him? That he was joking around with us?"

"Thi-"

"Three blows to the head, and Frank's still alive. He was laying there, still moving. This fucker wouldn't even show him the mercy of killing him properly. He walked around and made us touch the bat," he explained, trailing off into silence before forcing himself to continue. "Dianne…she couldn't stop screaming _please_ , begging him for just one more hit. He made her ask him to do it, made her say the words…and then he laughed at her. Wouldn't even put Frank out of his fucking misery."

"I get it," Rick said firmly. "Enough."

"Do you? Because that was a year and a half ago, and Frank's not the only one. The longer this goes on, the more people are dying. We're dropping off one by one like flies, but because it doesn't happen in some great fight Ezekiel thinks we have peace. It's not peace. It's not a life we want to live, and it's getting worse."

The question was on the tip of his tongue, but he implored himself not to say it, not to involve himself anymore…but he couldn't ignore it. "How?"

"We made a deal with them. They don't set foot in the city or the Kingdom, and we give them what they want. But things have escalated, and it started so slowly we didn't even know it was happening. They want _more_ , they want it _sooner_ ," he emphasised. "It used to be a monthly pick up schedule, then it became every two weeks. Now it's whenever they decide. We rarely know the schedule in advance, but we still have to come up with what they want."

"I understand why you want to fight," he acknowledged. "But I don't see why you need me to get involved. You've got the man power here. I've got maybe twenty people who could help. I won't risk half my population to fight a battle that isn't our own."

"It may not be your battle now, but it will be soon. They're looking for Alexandria, and you've got no idea of their resources, of the lengths they'll go to find you. They had defectors a couple months ago, and they're still looking for them!"

"I think we may have encountered them," Rick murmured, making the connection between the people who had robbed Daryl of his bow and motorcycle, and the defectors. "How do you know they're still looking?"

"Because we've seen them looking, even now. They still ask us if we've seen that group."

"If that's true, then how do you suppose we've never seen them?" he challenged. "We have people out on supply runs all the time, we've never come across Saviours since that first time."

"They're looking for them in the north. Your people tend to stay south in their runs. Other than that, it's sheer luck that you've never come across them."

With this remark he had to agreed. In his mind's eye he pictured a map of the area, noting the northern suburbs where they suspected the Saviours to be, and plotting that against the road in which the biker gang had held up Daryl, Abraham and Sasha. They had been roughly fifteen miles west of Alexandria that day…these Saviours had come perilously close to discovering them then.

"They're coming for you Rick, you know they are. This is already your battle to fight."

Against everything he thought was wise, he nodded his head. "Yes," he reluctantly admitted. They had already attacked them once…if what Richard was saying was true, Alexandria was already involved.

"What are you going to do about it?" he implored, trying to incite the desire to act. "Are you going to do what I did back at the refugee camp? Just sit back, and say someone else will take care of it? Or are you going to do something? You can stop this before it reaches Alexandria…before it takes someone you love."

"There'll be a cost for me," he said softly, thinking of the people back home. His family, his pregnant wife and children. "It's a cost I'm not sure I can pay."

"Like it or not, Rick, you're going to pay that cost. It's only a matter of when, and who."

Mercifully there was silence now, allowing Rick to ponder what he had learned. Richard was right, bringing to his attention the same conclusions he and Michonne had drawn. They couldn't go into hiding, they couldn't bury their heads in the sand…they had to do something to prevent this reaching Alexandria in the first place. Looking at the cigarette in his fingers he continued turning it over and over in his hands, the words ringing through his head on repeat. _It's only a matter of when, and who._

"I'll take that lighter."

Without a word Richard withdrew the lighter from his pocket opened it, and with a swift flick of his thumb a flame bloomed. Putting the cigarette between his lips Rick lit the end and took a long draw, holding the tobacco in his mouth and revelling in the taste. It didn't matter that it was old and stale, all tobacco was these days, he felt himself calming, his blood pressure easing…why had he ever given these up?

"I understand why you need to go home," Richard said kindly, closing the lighter and slipping it into his pocket. "You're their leader. You're expected to lead them even in times when you can't. But there's nothing you can do right now that Daryl and the others can't. We've got a couple of days of quiet up our sleeve…they won't be bothering anyone."

"How do you figure that?"

"It's New Year's Eve tomorrow. All the Saviours will care about this week is getting drunk and getting laid. When's your next visit from Daryl?"

"Thursday."

"Good. We should tell him. Warn him about what's going on, and tell him to get ready. Is there anything you'd do that he can't take care of?"

Rick knew that the answer was no, that Daryl and the others could more than adequately handle things in Alexandria, but he didn't say this. "It's not about that. They're my people. If we're really up against this group like you say we are, then I'm expected to be there with them."

"You're also a father. You're expected to be there when he needs you. Besides," Richard said lightly, trying to change the tone. "Maybe you're already in the right place now. Maybe this is exactly where you're supposed to be."

"Maybe," he agreed. "Maybe not."

"All I'm saying, is don't rush in to anything. Don't rush to get home…don't rush to write me off either. The longer you stay here the better it is for Carl. Besides, you might even meet Jesus if you stick around long enough."

Rick raised his eyebrows at this. "I met him years ago…don't think much of him these days."

To his surprise Richard chuckled, sounding genuinely amused. "I mean the earthly Jesus. A friend of mine. I was hoping to introduce you last time he was here, but he couldn't stay long."

"What's so important about him?"

"He comes from another community the Saviours have under their thumb, the Hilltop. Their leader Gregory has a disappointing lack of a spine, but Jesus is alright. He's young, but he has a good head on his shoulders."

Reaching the end of the cigarette he stubbed it out on the fence and then pocketed the butt, his hands instantly feeling empty and restless. "Hilltop? Where are they?"

"Top of a hill somewhere is all I know," he apologised. "When the time is right, Jesus will want to fight too.

"Will?" he questioned. "So he doesn't now?"

"Jesus wants to, but they're not ready for it. Like I said, their leader has some spinal issues."

"I think what you're trying to say, is that _no one_ is ready to fight these Saviours," he stated, calling him out. "You've got no allies who will go to war with you."

"No," he admitted lowly, not hiding it. "Not yet, anyway. That's why I need you, Rick. I know I didn't do things the right way, that I should have been honest with you…but I needed you to owe me…and I needed you to _know_ me. I just want to make this place safe. I want to stop people dying."

"I want to prevent people dying in the first place."

"Then you have to strike first," he implored, begging him to understand. "The Saviours are coming for you Rick, they're coming!"

"I'll lose people."

"Probably, yes. But at least they'll die fighting for their freedom, not on their knees in front of Negan while their friends watch on begging him for one more hit."

Having nothing to say, for how could he argue that, Rick put the cigarette between his lips and drew on it one last time, burning it down to the filter. He stamped it out against the wooden railing, holding the taste in his mouth until he slowly released it. In his hand he held the stub, letting it cool before pocketing it to dispose of later. Now his hands felt empty, fingers itching and mouth craving another. He had succumbed to his old ways, he had been weak…he couldn't afford weakness any more.

"It's better that the Saviours never know we're connected," Richard preemptively warned him. "If something does happen and they come for you, they'll have no idea they're crossing the Kingdom too."

"How does that matter?"

"They respect our agreement, but Ezekiel likes you. To the King, hurting Alexandria would be akin to hurting the Kingdom."

Though on the surface this was a reassurance, Rick knew there was more to it than that. "Why should I trust that you won't set the Saviours onto us so you can provoke Ezekiel into fighting?" he questioned. "It sounds like that's the only thing that would incite him to fight them…so why should I trust that you won't throw us under a bus?"

"Like I said, I considered it for a while," he said candidly. "Having you on their radar would deflect some attention from us, and it would incite Ezekiel."

"So? Why should I trust that you won't?"

"Will anything I tell you make a difference?"

"Let's find out," Rick pressed impatiently.

Richard smiled, looking across the empty paddock. "I like to think I'm an intelligent man. An intelligent man who rather have you as my ally than my enemy," he admitted, turning to him as he said these words. "Last night confirmed as much."

Although he approved of what Richard had said, Rick still felt the need to stand his ground, to remind Richard that the Saviours may not be his only problem. "Last night was nothing," he warned. He had told him a great deal, but he had glossed over the finer details of how he killed the Claimers, how he had killed the man who once raped Carrie and the rest of his group, innocent though they were. "Last night was the filtered version of events."

"Message received," Richard acknowledged seriously, not making light of anything. "Like I said, I'd rather us be allies. Friends, even."

"I wouldn't hold your breath on that last part," he muttered, looking down at his hands on the railing. It was dark now, a bitter cold wind picking up and compelling him to go back home to Carl. "The day Frank died," he asked, thinking back to the day they'd been taken by surprise by the biker gang. "The Saviours just turned up out of the blue?"

Richard's expression soured at the mention of this day, but he nodded nonetheless. "It was a normal supply run in the city, and then it wasn't. They blocked our exit at every street, forced us back to exactly where they wanted us. They knew where we'd be, the routes we'd try to take to get away…they knew everything."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," he said sincerely, able to sympathise. What happened at Terminus had been exactly the same. They thought they were running, trying to get away, but in reality they were being herded to exactly the place those people wanted them.

"Did you know Dianne used to be a professional photographer? She used to photograph celebrities, politicians… _Oprah_. Some of the stories she had about these people were just incredible, you could listen to her talk for hours. But after what happened, she doesn't do a lot of talking anymore…says she doesn't have anything worth saying. Do you understand, Rick? They're taking more than our lives and resources…they're taking away who we are."

"I get it."

"If you don't act, that's going to happen to you. To your family, to Carl o-"

"I get it," he repeated, louder this time.

He didn't want to hear what Richard had been about to say, that if something happened it would be his family on the line. There was a heavy silence now, everything they had talked about lingering in the air, an enormous gulf between them that one of them had to cross. Letting go of the wooden fence he turned to face Richard properly, staring him down as he tried to think, struggling to articulate what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell him that he sympathised, that he understood the position that he faced…but he also wanted to stay out of it completely. Today he stood at a crossroads, torn between two options. Defend his community, or strike first…both had their benefits, and both had their drawbacks.

Regardless of the route he chose, one thing was certain…someone was going to die.

* * *

A/N Please be sure to leave a review - Cheers!


	31. Chapter 31

Monday January 19

With a happy smile Carrie looked down at Daryl who sat on the floor, her feet in his lap while he painted her toenails. As he concentrated he was poking his tongue into the corner of his mouth, a habit of his that she hadn't noticed before. Having made the mistake of coming home for lunch, Daryl had been commandeered into finally coming through on a promise he had made to her weeks ago. Having made a point of reminding him how little he had been home lately, Carrie had managed to convince him to pamper her to make up for it. She was comfortable on the couch with a pore strip on her nose and a cup of tea nearby, satisfied that Daryl was finally following through on his promise, whether he liked it or not.

Beside her sat Judith, the little girl tired, sick and clingy today. Practically draped over Carrie's lap she was also getting her nails painted, Carrie carefully applying the orange non-toxic polish she had found many months ago on a supply run. Every now and then she gave a great sigh and noisy sniffle, and Carrie suspected she was only minutes away from falling asleep. On the floor in front of them Daryl occasionally glanced up at Judith, crossing his eyes or poking out his tongue to elicit a giggle.

"I'm having a wonderful time," Carrie said gratefully, revelling in every moment of pampering.

He merely grunted in response, returning his concentration to his task. Readjusting the foam separating each of her toes, he used his fingernails to scrape off some of the polish that got onto her skin, though the effort only made it look worse. He had done a surprisingly good job on her fingers, but her toes left a lot to be desired.

"Are you sure you don't want a pore strip?" she offered again, trying to incite a reaction. "It would do your nose a lot of good."

"No," he said dryly, dipping the brush back into the pot of red polish. "I would rather chew glass."

She smiled at this, enjoying his reaction. "You know the nail polish is meant to go on the nail itself? Not the skin."

"Hey, you got weird toenails, alrigh'?" he defended himself, looking up at her. "I'm just working with what I got."

"My toenails aren't weird!"

"They are," he argued, lifting her foot into the air and pointing to her pinky. "Look at this little freak. What yah do to it, huh?"

Daryl shook his head to himself and then resumed the task, likely regretting his offer to pamper her that had been made in a weak moment. She didn't say anymore to get him riled up, simply glad that he was home that day. Over the last few weeks Daryl had reverted back to his old ways of leaving at dawn and coming home late at night, and Carrie had only vague ideas of where he went and what he did…or who he did for that matter.

"Jesus, Daryl," Rosita muttered, coming into the house and kicking her shoes off at the front door. "Are you still doing her nails?"

"This shit's harder than it looks, alright? Get me a beer, would yah."

"It's barely noon!" she protested, setting a bag of rations down on the kitchen counter.

"Just keeping up with you, that's all."

"Any problems at the Pantry?" Carrie asked, trying to remember what they had for rations this week.

"No," Rosita assured her, beginning to unpack the groceries. "Olivia's already had to reallocate the household rations because of _them_ …wasn't hard to do it for me too."

At the mention of _them_ , Carrie chose not to say anymore, the subject of Abraham and Sasha being far too sensitive to bring up. Instead she let Rosita finish the task of putting away their groceries, and when she joined them in the living room Carrie was unsurprised to see that just as Daryl had joked, Rosita was partaking in a can of beer with him.

"Don't open that beer," Carrie said sternly. "We're going to the gym."

Raising an eyebrow at her, Rosita set Daryl's beer onto a coaster and then slumped down onto the other armchair. Kicking back and making herself comfortable she looked Carrie in the eye as she cracked open the top of her beer, barely hiding her smirk.

"We are going to the gym," Carrie repeated, trying to keep a straight face. "You've been drunk and wallowing for two days now. It's time to go hit a punching bag or something."

Rosita shook her head and took a large mouthful of her beer. "No, I think sobering up was a mistake," she said before turning to Daryl and changing the subject. "You gonna paint my toenails too?"

"You ain't pregnant. You can reach your hoofs jus' fine."

Rosita's eyes widened in outrage, and she lowered her beer from her lips. "Carrie can still reach her feet. She just wanted to make you do it!"

"Tha' true, Blondie?" he questioned, looking up at her. "Blondie."

Narrowing her eyes, Carrie glared at Rosita. " _Puta_ ," she said playfully, letting a smile cross her face. Quickly she hid it and turned back to Daryl, giving a heavy sigh and rubbing her belly. "It's just…"

Impatiently waving her off, Daryl rolled his eyes and then returned to her toes, putting one last coat of polish on each before gently blowing on them. For a moment he admired his handiwork before grabbing the pinky toe he had teased before, scrutinising it. Glad to be finished, he screwed the cap back on the polish and then carefully removed the foam spacers from between her toes.

"Hey, where are you going?" Carrie protested, raising her feet in the air and gesturing to them.

"Oh come on," he pleaded, realising what she wanted. "I ain't the who knocked you up, but I gotta rub your feet?"

"If it's too much trouble…"

He looked at her in disdain, knowing that she was just trying to work him over. Sipping at his beer he glanced at his watch and saw the opportunity for a quick escape. "Nah, I gotta go. I'm late."

"Late for what?" she asked accusingly.

"Goin' on a run with Abr…" he trailed off awkwardly, clearing his throat. "…with, you know." Making a quick escape he collected his things and slung Carl's old crossbow over his shoulder, muttering under his breath.

"Will you be home for dinner?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, and before he left he at least made the effort of giving her a gruff farewell. "See yah."

Left behind as usual, Carrie settled back into the couch and looked down at Judith draped across her lap, now fast asleep and breathing heavily through her congestion. As comfortable silence fell she glanced up at Rosita, who was still drying out from a two day bender of post-break up grief. Though she seemed to have settled somewhat, it did concern Carrie to see her drinking before it was even noon.

"Don't get any ideas," Rosita protested when she caught Carrie's gaze. "I'm not rubbing your damn feet!"

Carrie dramatically rolled her eyes. "You're a terrible house guest," she lied.

"You're a terrible host."

"That's not true. Your first night here I put a chocolate mint on your pillow."

She shrugged. "I didn't see it."

"You were too plastered to see anything," Carrie said, though in truth she eaten the mint, not wanting to waste it on Rosita's hangover.

Though they were laughing, in reality it wasn't much of a laughing matter. None of them had seeming it coming when Abraham packed his things last week and told Rosita that he was leaving her, that he didn't love her anymore. In minutes he was gone, leaving a shellshocked Rosita in favour of another woman…Sasha. The fall out was horrendous, though had Rosita not fled to Carrie's house instead of confronting the new lovers it would have been much worse for those involved. That night she had turned up at Carrie's front door in a complete rage, tears streaming down her face as she told her what happened.

"You have to be on my side," Rosita had shouted at her, the hurt in her voice growing. "One hundred percent blindly on my side! Sasha is dead to you, you hear me?"

"Y-yes," she agreed, though only to placate her.

"She's dead to us! She's not worth the shit on my shoe."

Carrie held her breath as she dared to ask, "And Abraham?"

"He's the biggest shit stain to ever walk this fucking planet," she declared, heaving for breath as her voice became increasingly high pitched. "Who the fuck does he think he is, leaving me for another woman? Me!"

That seemed to be the last straw, and it was then that Rosita broke down, unable to hide her grief behind righteous anger. Though she didn't want to be seen as taking sides Carrie had immediately invited Rosita to stay with her, offering her a place to privately process what had happened. In hindsight Carrie didn't mind admitting that she too was shellshocked by what had happened, Abraham and Sasha's relationship having come completely out of the blue. However the more she thought about it the more she realised that she should have seen this coming. Though it had been quite some time ago now, Lana had predicted this very occurrence, that one day soon Abraham would be leaving Rosita for another woman. While Abraham had claimed nothing had yet happened between he and Sasha, had there been signs that Lana noticed?

"Come on, get your ass up," Carrie said sternly, wriggling her hands under Judith's sleeping form and pulling her into her arms. "We're hitting the gym."

"No."

Ignoring her, she carried Judith over to the stroller she had left by the front door, carefully setting her down and trying not to wake her. She roused a little, her stuffy nose keeping her in only a light sleep, but with a few kisses and strokes of her hair she was asleep again. Making sure she had everything she needed Carrie tucked a blanket around her and slipped her stuffed duck into the stroller beside her. Looking down Carrie admired the way Judith lay sleeping, struggling to comprehend that very soon she would be putting a newborn into this stroller. While it seemed too small for Judith to continue occupying, it also felt too large for a tiny newborn.

"Get your ass off that couch," Carrie repeated, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at Rosita. "You're coming to the gym, or I'll wake Judy up and leave you to babysit her."

"You wouldn't do that," she scoffed.

Though she was perfectly correct, Carrie wasn't about to tell her that. Making her threat once more she went upstairs to change her clothing, enjoying the sight of her freshly painted finger and toe nails. She wondered where Daryl had gone, if he really had somewhere important to be or if he was just trying to avoid rubbing her feet. Changing into her yoga pants she breathed a sigh of relief, questioning why she didn't just give up on regular clothes to spend the remaining months of her pregnancy in these. It's not like she had anywhere nice to go. Starting to feel very resentful of all her clothing, she ditched any effort to find a comfortable bra and simply prayed her breasts stayed inside her tank top while she did a work out.

At the bathroom mirror she carefully removed the pore strip on her nose, wincing in discomfort as her eyes started to water. She washed her face and then lingered in front of the mirror, admiring the shape of her belly. She could now decipher exactly how the baby was situated, where it's head and bottom was, whether a jolt of discomfort was from a hand or foot. Lifting her tank top she observed the faint brown line that appeared down her front, crossing her naval that had started to bulge recently, forcing her to remove her piercing. While those things she could tolerate, the faint lines on her sides were another matter, for there was only so often she could apply oils and lotions to try and prevent stretch marks. She could see them starting, and she dreaded the possibility that they would become harsh red scars. It was a stupid thing to worry about these days, and trying to distract herself she gave her belly a slight jostle and waited. After another jostle the baby moved, and when she saw the ripple of movement across her belly she smiled. For a few more happy moments she stood there with her hands on her belly, stroking it and occasionally pressing until the baby responded again.

When she came back downstairs she was pleased to find Rosita was cooperatively pulling on her own sneakers, downing the last of her beer before swapping it for a bottle of water. When they departed the house Carrie glanced next door to Maggie and Glenn's, wondering if she and Herschel wanted to join them the way they often came to yoga together. With Rosita and Judith waiting on the pavement Carrie knocked on Maggie's front door, but when she heard the sound of crying from inside she immediately regretted it.

The front door opened to reveal Maggie, and unlike every other day in which she looked happy and enjoying motherhood, today she looked particularly haggard. On the shoulder of her shirt was a stain that resembled spit up, while it also seemed she was yet to change out of her flannelette pyjama pants and slippers.

"Yeah?" she said shortly, her voice low and gravelling.

"I came to see if you wanted to hit the gym," she began apologetically, feeling awful that she had interrupted. "But I-"

Cutting her off, Maggie called out to Glenn as she started putting on her coat. "Glenn, I'm going out."

At these words there was a commotion from inside, and before Maggie could leave Glenn burst out of the master bedroom behind her. In his arms was Herschel, the baby stark naked and clinging to his shirt as he gnawed at the collar, whimpering. "You're going out?" he asked in dismay. "Where?"

"The gym."

He looked at her forlornly, his pale cheeks and dark shadows beneath his eyes indicating his own exhaustion. Though it was clear he didn't want her to go he simply nodded, giving a heavy sigh as he readjusted Herschel. At this very moment Carrie saw a large damp patch growing on the front of his shirt, but he seemed not to notice he had become a diaper for his son.

"Hurry back," he said dejectedly, though he didn't appear to be holding his breath.

Sparing him a kiss on the cheek and one for Herschel too, Maggie turned on her heel and all but fled, not giving her departure a second thought. Taking the stroller back from Rosita they hastened to catch up with Maggie, surprised by the haste with which she walked. Neither of them was unkind enough to comment on her attire or the state of her unbrushed hair, yet she did wonder where Enid was right now, if she had been helping out with Herschel the way she normally did.

"Everything okay?" Rosita asked, dreading the answer.

Maggie just gave a short laugh. "No," she said in frustration. "Glenn had a long shift on watch last night, but I swear he still got more sleep than me."

"Oh. Herschel keeping you up?" Carrie asked, not looking forward to being in Maggie's situation.

She nodded, raising her hands and running them through her hair. "I think he's starting to teethe. He's crying and gnawing on everything, include me. My nipples haven't been this sore in months."

At this Carrie cringed, unconsciously trying to cross her arms across her front. Thankfully their trip to Alexandria's gym was short, and in barely a minute they were entering the garage of the home that used to belong to Betsy and David before their deaths. With no one else around they didn't need to wait their turn, and so Carrie left Judith's stroller in the corner where she could keep an eye on her and set her sights on the exercise bike.

Not to anyone's surprise Maggie wasn't there to exercise, and while Carrie and Rosita got started she instead slumped down on the padded bench of the weights machine. Though it wasn't exactly comfortable she closed her eyes and became still, and in no time at all her chest was slowly rising and falling, unbothered by the sound of them going about their session. Sympathetic to her plight they kept conversation to a minimum, simply getting on with what they had come there for. Eager to relieve the restless feeling she had that day she settled herself onto the exercise bike and started slowly, getting used to the way her growing belly made her feel a little unbalanced.

As Rosita set her sights onto the punching bag, Carrie turned on her iPod and cycled through the albums, feeling wistful when she looked at the music Rick had on there. After an unfortunate error with the washing machine Carrie had started using Rick's iPod, and it only served to remind her of his unusual taste in music. Though they really didn't have much range these days, his iPod was a strange mix of country, rock and most surprisingly, marching band songs. Going to her own playlist she hit play and then felt herself zoning out, laughing as she tried to imagine Rick listening to the likes of Beyonce. He had danced well at their wedding, but could he bust a move to Single Ladies?

Hitting her stride on the bike, Carrie allowed her mind to wander, using the exercise as an opportunity to thinks some things through. Though she relished the fact that a great deal of bullshit seemed to be sorting itself out lately, there were still a few things on her mind at the moment. While she had no intentions of bringing it up, she had her suspicions that despite Lana's assurance she would stay away from him, she and Daryl were sleeping together again. The other week Carrie had made the mistake of entering his attic bedroom to collect his laundry. Though usually he kept things tidy she straightened up for him, putting his clean clothing away before throwing back the comforter to change the sheets. It was then she found it, the lacy red thong lost down the foot of the bed. Picking it up by the tag she scrutinised the scrap of material, underwear that wasn't completely dissimilar to the racy thongs she herself had for those special nights of making a little extra effort in the bedroom. But her quick inspection determined that these were in fact crotchless, and that was when she dropped them in horror.

Instantly she knew who they belonged to, for on more than one occasion after tequila shots Lana had given her a little too much information about what she liked to wear when she too made a little extra effort. Together they had laughed uproariously when Lana told her about the crotchless thong she scavenged during a supply run, the way she had stuffed it into her bra before someone like Carter or Spencer saw it. The underwear probably belonged to her, it was the most logical explanation for how it came to be tangled in Daryl's bedsheets. As Carrie stood there looking at the scrap of lace on his bedroom floor she tried to gauge what she felt about the issue, if she was angry and outraged they were sleeping together again, or if she simply felt…nothing.

In the end she decided against direct action. She was trying not to focus on Lana these days, and Daryl was a grown man who knew what he could be getting himself into. He had been there the day Spencer died, he shared the suspicion that Vetor had killed him out of jealousy. If he knew all that and still chose to sleep with Lana, that was his prerogative. Carrie could have any opinion she like, but that didn't give her the right to judge him. Hell, maybe the poor guy just needed a lay. Making sure he would find it when he collapsed into bed that night, Carrie had slipped the underwear back into the sheets and put the comforter back the way it was. As if nothing was amiss she simply asked him to remove the bedsheets himself for laundering, and the next day when she shoved them into the washing machine there was no sign of the stray underwear.

Even aside from being with Lana again, Carrie felt that something might be up with Daryl. Until the last few weeks he had made a point of being home more often than normal, making an effort to keep her company while Rick and Carl were gone. It wasn't that she needed to be taken care of, just that it was nice having company around, but in the last few weeks he had stopped. Something had captured his attention and started taking up all his time, and not even Lana could be enough to keep him occupied sixteen hours a day. Hell, he wasn't the only one in Alexandria who seemed preoccupied right now. The construction of their next expansion was almost complete, all they had to do was take down the interior walls and start tidying up the new land, but it seemed there were fewer people on that job and more people on watch. They were doing patrols of the woods now, risking Walkers and their own Walker traps to keep an eye on their surroundings as if the eight security cameras weren't doing a good enough job. She figured that was where Daryl was most days, not that she often had the opportunity to ask him. The only way she knew he was still alive and coming home was that each morning there were breadcrumbs on the counter and coffee brewing in the machine.

He might be an absent housemate, but he was smart enough to ensure Carrie awoke to coffee each morning.

Keeping with her previous efforts to stay busy during Rick's absence, Carrie didn't preoccupy herself with thoughts of what Daryl and the others were doing all day. She and Olivia had completed a thorough audit of the pantry, armouries and shipping containers, reconciling their records against what was actually there. Alexandria's junior school was still running, and she had completed a few mornings of classes and activities, the same with book club, yoga club, even the Mario Kart tournament that Eugene and Tara had hosted.

When she had felt her restlessness growing again she did something about it, and escorted by a small army of guards who behaved like the Secret Service, Carrie had taken her first stroll outside the walls in months. There she had looked through the unkempt houses they now encompasses, studying the extra space they now had for gardens and livestock. She had spent almost two hours out there, lured home only by Glenn's offer to help her with a painting project she had been mulling over. Although her time out there was relatively short she had enjoyed it immensely, relishing the sight and sound of the world outside the walls…hell, she was even glad to see the Walkers.

The other project that kept her and the rest of Alexandria busy was the difficult task of tending to Spencer's house, the home where the community's leaders had lived. For weeks following his death it remained untouched, a crypt of sorts that no one was willing to go inside lest they desecrate sacred ground. It wasn't until mid January that they pulled themselves together and started, a dozen of them pitching in to make a day's work of it, sensitively going through the belongings of that family and sorting through them. Some things were dispersed among various residents to whom it would have meaning, while others were recorded and returned to the Pantry or storage shed to be reused. By the end of the day the house had been returned to it's former display home decor, all traces of the family who had lived there erased in mere hours. It was confronting to see that happen before her very eyes, making Carrie wonder if that would ever happen to her family and their home.

"You and Rick should think about moving in," Barbra had suggested that evening, helping Carrie take home Deanna's computer and video camera.

Against her shoulder Judith was fast asleep, her legs wrapped around her waist as they made the short walk home. "Why?"

"You guys are the leaders now. Maybe you should take her house."

Carrie shook her head, disagreeing with both elements. "Rick is the leader of Alexandria, being married to him doesn't make me leader by default. Besides, I don't think I could bring myself to call it home. It will always be hers."

"Yeah," Barbara agreed, thanking Carrie as she went in first and held the door open for her. "It's weird that one day someone else will be living there…that it will be their home."

"Maybe it will be one of our kids," she suggested, thinking of Connor and Courtney.

"That would be nice," she agreed, setting the box onto the kitchen counter. "I better get home and make sure Kurt hasn't fed them cereal for dinner."

She farewelled Barbara and then went upstairs to put Judith into bed, grateful that Tara had fed and bathed her. For a little while she lay there on the edge of Judith's bed with her arm around her, feeling rather melancholy following the work they'd completed at Deanna's house. How long would it take for them to stop referring to it as Deanna's house? How long would it take for them to forget their original leader?

With Rick being the leader, Carrie was now in possession of Deanna's laptop and video camera, all the recordings of every newcomer who had ever been interviewed. She had been tempted to watch them, but it was the spark of excitement she felt about Lana's interview that told her not to. She was tired of Lana, unwilling to let herself obsess over her and that group. Lately Lana had been a non-issue, sticking close to her home and making few appearances out in the community. She wasn't going on supply runs, she wasn't helping with the expansion, she was merely existing. Despite her lack of contribution no one was making a point about it, everyone preferring to just let her wallow in self-pity, Carrie included. It was easier that way.

The only thing that continued to bother Carrie was Vetor, frustrated by the way he still lingered in the back of her mind. By now Rick was aware of that Vetor had confessed responsibility for Spencer's death to Lana, but also that he would steadfastly deny it if ever confronted. When they talked about it Rick had assured her that something would be done about it, though thus far it didn't seem like many consequences had come about. Rick was frustratingly stuck in the middle, not wanting to do anything that would upset Lana and compel her to leave Alexandria, leaving him unable to exile or outright kill Vetor. In her darker and unkinder moments, Carrie couldn't care less about what happened to Lana, going as far as to actually hope she and her group were exiled and killed.

In what was either a stroke of luck or an outright attempt, Vetor had almost met his end a few days ago, having run afoul of a metal beam during a day with the construction crew. Though Abraham had apologised profusely for his careless haste that had seen Vetor knocked unconscious for fifteen blessed minutes, Carrie didn't quite get the feeling it was genuine. Following the accident he had spent two days in the Infirmary under Denise's care, his head injury having required a period of observation and rest. While she had noted that Lana had only been to visit him once, at least according to Tara anyway, she hadn't noticed a great deal of concern on behalf of Rick's innermost circle. It wasn't a great leap to presume that this is what Rick had been talking about when he assured her that something would be done about Vetor, that this was their way of taking care of the problem without forcing Lana to leave. If that was the case, they were going to have to try a little harder. Where was a little arsenic when one needed it?

"I've got her!" someone shouted outside. "I've got her!"

Carrie had just looked up from her exercise bike when she saw a figure go crashing up against the side door, cringing when she saw Eugene's features squashed up against the glass. In his haste he hadn't properly opened the door, and in a flurry he rattled and pulled at it as he lowered the handle and managed to open it.

"Where on God's good earth have you been?" he angrily demanded, looking at Carrie. "You left no correspondence as to the whereabouts of you and your spawn!"

Carrie blinked at him, unable to hear most of what he said until she tugged the headphones away from her ears. "What was that?"

"You left no correspondence as to the whereabouts of you and your spawn," he repeated, gesturing to her and then to Judith asleep in her stroller. "A great number of your fellow people have been searching nooks and crannies in order to locate you, and your failure to leave correspondence has incited a panic amongst said people. The consensus was that were we not to find you, you would miss the great event that sparked their efforts to locate you in the first place."

With a great sigh Carrie sat up straight and began slowing the exercise bike. Looking at him from the corner of her eye she took a long drink of water, breathing heavily as she relished the feeling of the blood pumping through her body, sweat on the surface of her skin. He was interrupting her, and it was most unwelcome.

"Okay Eugene, you found me. Congratulations."

"Congratulations are not in order," he said, sounding affronted. "This is not a childish game of Hide and Seek. I and many others had been tasked with locating you, a task that I-"

"Get to the point, Eugene!" Rosita said roughly, pounding the punching bag with a gutsy yell.

Noticing her aggression, Eugene pointedly took a step away from her and turned his attention back to Carrie. He squared his shoulders and cleared his throat, looking at her expectantly. "I must respectfully ask that you disembark that death trap, after which I have important news that I have been tasked with delivering."

"In a sec," she panted, taking another sip of water. "What is it?"

"First, you must disembark the-"

"Eugene, just tell me, please."

"Disembark!" he said loudly, his tone making her jolt in surprise. "I will not be held responsible for you falling ass over tit as you attempt to disembark in the midst of your excitement."

Her curiosity aroused, she shared a glance with Rosita as she slowed her feet on the pedals, bringing them to a stop before doing as Eugene had asked. She panted with exertion, her skin flushed and her legs feeling like jelly when she stood up, but it was a most welcome sensation. The feeling of being restless and frustrated had eased now that her blood was pumping, though it did serve to remind her of how much she had missed this type of exercise.

"Alright Eugene, I'm all ears."

Now his demeanour changed, a smile coming across his face as he rubbed his hands together in excitement. "He's back."

"Who, Daryl?" she asked, taking another drink to quench her thirst. "He barely left a half hour ago."

Bouncing on the balls of his feet now, Eugene shook his head. "Not Daryl."

Carrie gaped at him for a moment, feeling gobsmacked as it sank in. Surely it couldn't be them…it was too good to be true. "Eugene, if you're screwing with me I'm going to hurt you."

Though he did take a step back, he was quick to reassure her. "I am one hundred percent not screwing with you. They're almost here. All five of them, and three swines to boot."

Still Carrie stood there in astonishment, unable to fully believe it. "Now? They're coming back, now?"

When he nodded Carrie stood there in silence as she took this in, and then it clicked. She had been awaiting this moment for weeks…almost two months now. High with the unanticipated rush of elation she burst into action, dropping her bottle of water as she lunged for her coat hanging by the door. Barely sparing a thought for Rosita and Maggie she took Judith's stroller and rushed out of the garage gym, so excited she barely managed to thank Eugene when he held the door open for her.

"Carrie, in concern for your good health I must implore you to make a hasty about turn in the direction of home," Eugene nagged, following her as she hastened down the rear road. "You're in a delicate condition, and your disturbing lack of scarf, beanie and mittens has not escaped my notice. Furthermore those yoga pants, while deliciously hugging every-"

"Eugene," she cut him off. "I'm okay, really."

"-hugging every curve, do in fact leave your calves exposed to the elements, and in turn expose you to a nasty bout of the sniffles. That said, I do commend your bravery for taking the risk of not shaving your legs before greeting your husband. I myself do harbour a preference for my woman to-"

"Eugene," she sighed, slowing to a stop and turning to look at him. Below her she could see the gates opening, a crowd already formed to greet their returning group members. Nevertheless she looked at him fondly, appreciating his concern. "Thanks for coming to find me."

He blinked at her in surprise, perhaps having not expected her gratitude. "You're welcome," he stated. "I in turn thank you for being so accomodating to Rosita in her time of heartbreak. Though I have tried to remain Switzerland, she was not at all receptive of my efforts to render comfort in the immediate aftermath of Abraham's cruel discarding of her."

"That's because you kept talking about cookies!" she admonished him, shaking her head as they set off again.

With Eugene no longer nagging at her she looked to the gates with excitement, her heart pounding. There had been no warning of Rick's return, no indication that it would be today. When Daryl met with him last week he suggested it might be yet another few weeks before they came home. Had he just been managing her expectations, or was it his way of pleasantly surprising her? Either way she didn't care, for all that mattered to her was that the familiar green Hyundai was barely a hundred yards away, and as it closed in on it's destination so too did Carrie.

There was the usual crowd of residents down there waiting, but as she made her way down they parted to let her through, sharing her excitement. While Judith remained fast asleep in her stroller she came to a stop beside Glenn, taking a moment to smile at Herschel who didn't look much happier than the last time she had seen him. In no time at all the car had made it's way through the gates before coming to a stop, quickly followed by another, and Carrie frantically looked between both of them, mentally ticking off each person. Carl was at the wheel of the Hyundai with Michonne in the passenger seat, Denise in the back. In the van that arrived second was Carol and Rick, and when he saw her looking he raised his hand and smiled. She smiled back, her cheeks aching with happiness.

All at once the car doors opened, the occupants quickly getting out and greeting those who were there waiting for them, posing a dilemma to Carrie. She dithered on the balls of her feet, Carl on one side of the car and Rick on the other, and as inconsequential as it was it was an impossible decision. Who did she go to first? She looked at them both and then let her feet decide, finding herself drawn to Carl. Leaving Judith with Glenn she rushed over, taking that brief second to look Carl up and down and notice how good he looked. His cheeks were rosy and full, his features sparkling with a confidence she hadn't seen on him in months. In that split second she knew that their separation had all been worth it.

"Carl," she sighed, hugging him more tightly than she ever had before. "Carl, I'm so glad you're home."

"Me too," he replied, returning her embrace just as eagerly.

"You are _home_ , right?" she clarified, pulling away long enough to look him in the eye. "You don't have to go back?"

"I'm going back for a check up in one month, that's it."

Indescribably relieved to hear this she pulled him back into her arms and continued to hold him there. She didn't want to let him go, feeling rather agreeable to the idea of hugging him like this all day even as he started to tease her.

"You know Dad's here too, right?"

"He can wait," she mumbled.

Despite this, Carl laughed at her in good nature before extracting himself and gawking at her. "Geez, it's like hugging a beach ball. You're huge!"

"Really?" she asked, pleased with his comment. "I'm not much bigger than I was at Christmas."

"No really, you're huge."

Her face sore from her smiling, Carrie pulled him back into her embrace one more time, suddenly realising it felt like he was taller. Was that possible? How quickly could he have grown? "I've missed you."

"Yeah, I've missed you too," he said, though it didn't sound like his heart was in it anymore.

Trying not to hurt her feelings, he slowly extracted himself from her embrace again, looking a little embarrassed. He subtly gestured to someone behind her, and when she looked around and saw Enid waiting patiently she realised she had been monopolising him. Letting him go he watched as he approached Enid, the two teens giving a somewhat awkward wave before hugging one another, no doubt the type of greeting they both had wanted in the first place.

"It's not often I'm upstaged by my own son," Rick said from behind her.

She didn't apologise, knowing that he wasn't bothered she had gone to Carl first. Still smiling so much it hurt she turned to him, her heart swelling and fit to burst with happiness. As if no time had passed they moved into one another's embrace and shared a kiss, and she didn't care that his beard was scratchy against her face, that it was the longest she'd ever seen it. It felt wonderful to have him back, to put her hands on his waist, to feel the rise and fall of his chest against hers knowing that this time he was here to stay. There was no time limit anymore…he didn't have to leave again.

"How's things?" he asked when they pulled away. Looking at her fondly he pushed some loose hair behind her ear, his other hand coming to rest on the front of her belly.

Welcoming his touch, she moved his hand around to the side and encouraged him to gently press, seeing the glint of delight in his eyes when he could feel the baby. "Things are good," she assured him. "Judy has a cold, but she's suffering through it as best she can. She can sing the alphabet now."

"Can she?" he said in approval, letting his hand linger on her belly. "Who taught her that?"

"I did. She usually gets confused, but if you sing it with her she gets it right."

"And you?"

"I can sing it backwards," she answered, knowing that's not what he meant.

"Carrie…" he shook his head in exasperation. "How are _you_?"

"I'm good," she assured him. "Better now you're all home. The baby's good too, just hanging out in there, making me pee all the time. Making me eat mac and cheese for breakfast."

"There's nothin' wrong with that," he smiled, lightly kissing her on the cheek. He brought her into his arms for another embrace, but to her disappointment it was too brief. Barely had she had time to enjoy resting her head against his shoulder before he was pulling away. "You and Judith should go home and get out of the cold. It won't take us long to unpack the car."

"In which case, I can help," she offered, refusing to take no for an answer.

Accepting her offer, Rick opened the trunk and started looking through the masses of bags and various supplies they had brought with them, the sheer volume astounding when she recalled the small amount they had taken with them. While Rick and Carl started sorting through the things and setting it out onto the road, Carrie milled about with the others, reuniting with Michonne, Denise and Carol, the latter she had seen once in the last two months. She had come home for Christmas, but other than that had chosen to remain at the Kingdom for whatever reason. A part of Carrie had been dreading Carol's return, wondering if she would still be cold and distant to her when she returned, but this concern was quickly done away with. By the time she had finished saying hello to Tobin who had missed her terribly, Carol was beaming as she made her way over to Carrie and hugged her.

"Oh, look at you!" she gushed, her eyes crinkled with happiness as she looked at Carrie's belly. "May I?"

"Of course," Carrie smiled, more excited for Carol to touch her belly than she had been for Rick. Though Carol had always shown interest in her pregnancy, this was the first time it seemed genuine.

"You still don't know what it is?"

Carrie shook her head, glad when the baby kicked and moved about for Carol. "I tried to sneak a peak in Denise's filling cabinet," she confessed. "But she keeps it locked. Don't tell Rick."

"You're secret's safe with me," she assured her. "I see you've given up on wearing pants."

"I have not!" she laughed, thrilled with how this was going. This had to be the most she had seen Carol smiling in months, and it seemed real. Maybe time away from the fishbowl life of Alexandria was exactly what Carol needed, maybe it had given her some breathing space after all the terrible things that had happened here. "As long as I use those extensions Maggie gave me, I can still fit into my old jeans."

"Well, the Kingdom has sent you more baby stuff. New bras, diapers, muslins wraps, a rocking swing like Herschel's. But that's all for your baby shower, that way it seems like your friends are actually giving you presents."

"That's great, thanks. Tara's organising my shower," she said, taking a bag Rick passed to her. "God only knows what she has planned."

"It'll be a riot, I'm sure," Carol chuckled, farewelling her before taking her bag and heading home. For a few moments Carrie watched her go, glad to see that she was looking happier. She just hoped it lasted.

"Head on home with that bag," Rick said, ushering her away from the car. "We won't be long."

"I can take more than one bag."

He looked at her in exasperation, but didn't stop ushering her away. "Just go, would you? You're not supposed to see the baby things."

"Ahhh," she said, beginning to understand. Unable to help herself she took a quick step to the right and tried to peer around him, but he was far too quick and easily blocked her view. "Come on, just a peek?"

"Behave yourself, and I'll give you a peek at something else."

Recognising the innuendo in his voice Carrie couldn't help but smirk in amusement. God damn she had missed her husband, and for more than one reason. "Oh yeah? A peek at what?" As she said this she lowered her voice and stepped closer to him, her fingers pinching the front of his shirt and giving it a gentle tug.

Leaning down he pressed a light kiss to her jaw and then whispered, "Tonight, I'm going to rattle our headboard like a Sailor on leave."

Barely managing to contain her smile, Carrie giggled shamelessly and then returned the favour, pressing her lips to his jaw and then whispering, "Have you been practicing that line?"

"Yes, I have."

Approving, she brought her lips to his and kissed him properly. "Ahoy, Sailor."

They laughed together as they shared another kiss, and then high with elation she headed home with Judith, and when she remembered Eugene's uninvited comment about her unshaven legs she started walking a little faster. Finally everything had fallen into place for their family, with Carl having recovered well and their separation over. Looking forward to enjoying the next few months as they prepared for their baby in peace she raced home, and with every step she felt a great weight being lifted from her shoulders.

* * *

A/N Hi all - so not much of an action chapter, but I couldn't skip as it was needed to establish timeline and events. Hope you all enjoy that Rick and Carl are home for good now - next few chapters are starting to get exciting, and chapter 33 is one of my favourite!

Happy New Year everyone - please leave a review for me.


	32. Chapter 32

Knocking politely, Carrie waited until she heard Carl invite her in before pushing the door open. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back turned to her, hastily winding the white bandage back around his head before securing it into place. When he was done he turned around to look at her, still pulling his hair out and trying to cover his face. Her heart ached as she watched him do this, and she braced herself before bringing it up…she knew things were better for him, but that didn't mean she knew how he would react.

"I thought you were meant to keep that off," she said gently. "At least while you're at home, anyway."

He seemed embarrassed that she had mentioned this, but he tried to shrug it off. "I had it on while Enid was over."

That didn't explain why he so quickly put it back on when Carrie came in. "Can I see the graft?"

It was clear her request had made him a little uncomfortable, but it had to be done eventually. Rick had already told her of how successful the surgery and recovery had been, and that while he was at home Carl was meant to be keeping the bandage off. The only time he was supposed to cover the graft was when he slept or went outside, and it was to be that way for at least a month or so while things continued to settle.

"I'm going to have to see it eventually," she added. "You can't keep putting that bandage on and off again every time I come into a room."

Though reluctant to do so, Carl nodded in agreement. "It's a bit gory," he warned as he removed the bandage again. "I look like Frankenstein."

"Don't say that," she admonished him, coming in and taking a seat on the opposite side of the bed.

She held her breath as he removed the bandage and then pulled back his hair, and instantly the most horrible thought occurred to her, that the graft did indeed remind her of Frankenstein. The large oval section of skin was bright red, the both sides of the scar line bordered by a series of small dots from the now removed stitches. To the right of his face was mottled white scar tissue that had already healed in the previous months, but the rest of the surrounding skin was green and yellow with bruises. He was right, it did indeed look gory, particularly with the way it seemed to cave in a little beneath his brow. As she looked at it holding her breath, she could empathise with why he wanted to hide it even from people like she and Enid.

"I told you it's gross."

"It's not gross," she said firmly, leaning forward to get a better look. "It's incredible. I can't believe that these days someone can have a skin graft. Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah, but not as much as where he took the skin from," he said, letting go of his hair and then pulling down the front of his shirt to show her a dressing on his shoulder. "I actually had two skin grafts. He cut out skin from here to put onto my face, but because it was so wide he had to take skin from my arm to replace it," he continued, pulling up his sleeve to show her another dressing on his inner bicep.

"Huh?" she frowned in confusion, struggling to keep up with the simple explanation. "Then how did he close the wound on your arm?"

"He didn't need to, he did it differently. He only took a really thin slice, like a slice of cheese. They took pictures, do you wanna see?"

"No," she said emphatically, bursting his bubble of excitement as he started to get up and rummage through his bag. In her mind's eye she pictured skin being removed like a slice of cheese, the very thought of it making her stomach turn and her hands clench. "That's pretty cool though."

"Yeah," he shrugged, changing the subject now. "You wanna help me unpack?" he asked hopefully.

Glad to help, Carrie nodded. "Okay, but don't expect me to do it all."

Though Rosita had been staying here she vacated before Carl even made it to the house, leaving his bedroom in the same pristine condition in which she had entered it. Now though it had become chaotic again, even by Carl's usual standards. As they settled in to start unpacking his things she could see why he had enlisted her help, and it wasn't just to offload some of the work. When he decided to stay at the Kingdom Daryl had briefly returned home to pack him a bag, and had taken only the essentials such as a change of clothes and his toothbrush. Now though he returned with his pack crammed with clothing and two new pairs of shoes, plus two boxes filled to the brim with books, CDs and random stuff he had collected during his time.

Carl wasn't the only one who had brought back more clothing than he left with, for Rick's pack looked to be bulging too. The Kingdom had been particularly generous to them, even without counting the extensive and ongoing medical treatment. By now they had already brought home a dozen chickens and two goats, but this trip they had brought with them three pigs, some baby things, seedlings for the gardens, extra books and supplies for the school, and medications and training material for Denise. Should they have the space ready in time, in a month they would see the arrival of two dairy cows and maybe a bull too, a breeding arrangement that would hopefully benefit both communities.

As they sorted through his things and put them away, Carrie couldn't help but notice the way Carl continually raised his hand to his face, brushing his hair over the skin graft or unconsciously turning that side of his face away when he spoke. Though she could definitely see the change and renewed self-confidence within him, it still seemed there were a ways to go. Nevertheless the simple novelty of seeing him without the bandage across his face was a nice change. This was a new start for Carl, one of better health and a self-esteem that would continue growing.

"What?" he asked self-consciously when he realised she was looking at him.

She shook her head, embarrassed that she had caught him. "Nothing, I just…I'm really glad you're home."

"You've said that like ten times already."

"I know," she said, still a little embarrassed. "But I mean it."

"Don't go getting all weepy on me," he warned her. "It was bad enough when Eugene cried, and then he set off Maggie."

"Hey, Maggie is not in full control of her emotions these days," she laughed light heartedly, remembering her exhaustion that day. "Neither am I for that matter. You'll do well to remember that."

"I will. I'll start carrying snacks in my pockets."

"Why?"

"Chef told me that any time a pregnant woman gets angry or upset, you should just shove food in her mouth. Problem solved."

Carrie rolled her eyes at this remark, but it was difficult to feel anything less than affection for Chef. "I want to be offended by that, but I do approve of the strategy. Those little sachets of mayonnaise? Keep them handy, I can't get enough of them."

"We have a whole jar in the fridge you know."

"I don't like that mayonnaise. I only like the sachets."

"It's the same brand."

"They taste different, trust me."

A knock on the door alerted them to Rick's arrival, and when she looked around at him she smiled at the way Judith was laying against his chest. Snuggled up in her onsie with her duck clutched against her chest she was doing all she could to keep her eyes open, but made no effort to lift her head off Rick's shoulder.

"You're nearly finished," he observed, looking impressed. "I wouldn't have thought it was possible without Carrie helping you."

"I take it that means you're all unpacked too?" she challenged.

"I've been busy," he said in his defence, stroking Judith's back. "I'm putting her to bed a little early."

Agreeing that was a good idea, Carrie waited until Carl had kissed his sister goodnight, and then she followed them into the hall. "She's so sleepy," she smiled, stroking Judith's long hair and then kissing the crown of her head. "Poor thing."

"She'll get some rest tonight I think," he assured her. "She's had a good dose of NyQuill."

"How did you get her to take it? She kept spitting it out when I tried to give it to her."

"I pretended it was mine and that I didn't want to share," he said knowingly, looking at her with a fond smile. "Five seconds was all it took for her to want some."

"So you tricked her?"

"Hell yes. Carl needed to have eye drops when he was little, and he was convinced they were for Lori, not for him. He never complained when he had them."

Carrie quirked her eyebrow, unsure of whether she approved of Rick's strategy to trick his children into taking their medicine. Then again, she couldn't deny that her strategy of begging and pleading with Judith hadn't exactly worked.

"I've much to learn from you," she said, ultimately deciding he was likely right. They shared a light kiss in the hallway, one that she couldn't help but repeat.

"How long do you think you'll be with him?"

She shrugged, unsure. "Maybe a half hour."

"Don't keep me waiting too long," he said lowly, kissing her again. "Get him to put some music on…if he uses his headphones, even better."

She grinned, knowing what he was getting at. "I'll do my best."

They left it at that, Rick swaying Judith in his arms as he made his way into her bedroom to put her down for the night. Carrie on the other hand returned to Carl's bedroom where he was still sorting through his things, conveniently looking through his new CDs. She rejoined him and started to assist, glad when he agreed to her arrangement of sorting them alphabetically, not that she anticipated they would stay that way for long. As they worked the atmosphere between them was comfortable like always, but Carrie had a niggling feeling of worry in the back of her mind. For the most part things were fine, but she could tell that Rick was a little out of sorts, that he wasn't quite himself. While it must be strange to be back at home again, he had spent a few hours out talking with God only knew who, and when he came home he'd been a little quiet throughout dinner.

"What's up with your dad?" Carrie finally asked, wondering if Carl had any insight. "He seems a little off."

Her question seemed to arouse his interest, and he glanced up at her as he loaded a CD into his stereo. "So no one told you, huh?"

"Told me what?" she asked in intrigue.

"Something happened a couple of weeks ago. Dad had a major freak out, _major_. A few days after my graft he stormed in and told me to pack our things, that we were…" he trailed off awkwardly now, pursing his lips as he looked away. "Shit. I'm probably not supposed to tell you this."

 _Of course not_ _,_ she rolled her eyes internally. "Okay, well you probably shouldn't tell me anymore."

"Cool," he breathed in relief. "Thanks."

Despite this she looked at him expectantly, holding his gaze. "Tell me," she said bluntly, unable to believe he hadn't gotten the hint. "Now."

"But-"

"Now."

Looking rather displeased with the turn of events, he turned away and hit Play on the stereo, his new ACDC album beginning to play. "These guys are pretty old, but th-"

"Carl. What happened?"

He sighed, and then lowered his voice as he began to explain. "I don't really know what happened. He just came back out of the blue and told me to pack our things, and then got into huge argument with Mak. No one was going to let us leave. No one," he repeated, emphasising this. "After that, Dad just went AWOL for hours."

"He didn't say anything?"

He scoffed under his breath. "He and Michonne told me that he'd had a bad supply run. They said he overreacted about something, but it's all sorted out."

"You don't believe them."

"No," he scoffed again. "Would you? But you didn't hear any of this from me. Got it?"

"Got it," she promised him, extending her pinky finger the way Michonne would have.

The conversation lapsed now, for which they were both grateful. Staying a little longer and trying not to watch the clock, Carrie worried herself with the possibilities of what might have happened at the Kingdom. Something had to have happened there, something that had spooked Rick enough to want to take Carl away from the medical support he needed so badly. She imagined him bursting into their classroom apartment and telling his son to pack their things, that they were leaving. Something significant had happened to cause that reaction, and something equally significant happened to make him change his mind.

It was almost an hour later when Carrie left Carl to it, having finished unpacking and then listening to his music with him for a while. Time had slipped by, the two of them enjoying one another's company again with the knowledge that their family didn't need to be separated any longer. When she left him to it she took a quick walk through of the house, glad to see that although it was still rather early Rick had turned off all the lights and was allowing the fire to die down. She helped herself to a little snack from her secret stash in the back of the pantry before heading upstairs, looking forward to spending the night with her husband. She was tired and had slept poorly the previous night, but if she got no sleep tonight that would be okay with her.

When she came into their bedroom she was pleased to find Rick emerging from their bathroom, his towel slung loosely around his waist. "Well, hello there," she said cheekily, closing the door and locking it. "What happened to the beard?" she asked, feigning disappointment.

"It got shaved," he said, reaching up and stroking the smooth skin. "Don't pretend you're disappointed."

On the pretence of taking a closer look she came closer to him, feeling her heart rate begin to accelerate a little. He smelled so good, the little droplets of water across his shoulders begging her to brush them off, but for now she resisted. "Even you have to admit, it needed at least a trim. Or a chainsaw."

Laughing under his breath, Rick turned away and headed towards their closet, admonishing her when she grabbed his towel and pulled it off him as he walked. "Carrie!"

She smirked at him, pleased when he simply walked away without his towel. "We're good to go, Carl has his headphones on." Sitting down on the edge of the bed she admired him in interest, feeling impatient. "What are you doing? You don't need pyjamas."

"Oh, I don't?"

"No, you don't," she said firmly, taking the sweatpants he had brought out and tugging them from his hands.

Tilting her head upward she waited for him to respond, glad when he leant down and pressed his lips to hers. They kissed lightly, reacquainting themselves with one another before she eagerly deepened it. Swiping her tongue across his lips she kissed him more firmly, glad when he responded in kind. Tilting his head and making her open her mouth, they kissed languidly as he moved closer, settling one knee on the bed beside her. He tried to make her lay down, one hand pressing on her shoulder while the other traced the neck of her tank top, the light touch making her shiver in delight. Playing him, she tantalisingly dragged her hands down his front, and just as he thought she as reaching for him she put her hands on his hips and gave him a firm push away.

"What?"

"I'm glad you're home. Pick up your towel," she playfully scolded him. "Put down the toilet seat!"

"What?"

"Go on," she insisted, batting his hands away from her. "Pick up your towel!"

Seeing what she was doing to him, Rick seemed to roll his eyes. "That how this is gonna be, huh?" Doing as he was told he picked up his towel and took it into the bathroom, looking at her over his shoulder. "You leave that for me," he said, seeing her reaching for the hem of her shirt. "That's my job."

Leaving her clothes on for him to remove, Carrie settled herself onto the bed and waited for him, enjoying the tease. When he came back into their bedroom for a moment she thought she might not be able to hold out, highly conscious of just how many lonely nights she had spent without him. He kissed her as he took the hem of her tank top and slowly pulled it over her belly, pausing to let his hands stroke it and his thumb brush over the lump that was her navel. He inched the fabric up over her breasts and then pulled it over her head in a flourish, tossing it aside before leaning in to kiss her again. In an instant he was all over her, hands gently stroking her breasts as he made her lay down.

She felt a welcome surge of happiness when he moved his body on top of hers, glad to feel their skin against one another's. Even though he had to manoeuvre around her belly somewhat, surely she'd never been as happy before as she was in that moment. Everything was so familiar in the best possible way. The way they kissed, the touch of his hands on her body, the eager way he removed her clothes and underwear before bringing his mouth between her legs. It was sheer perfection having him back, the sweetness of reunion serving to remind her that it had all been worth it.

Having missed him greatly it wasn't long before she had clenched her hands into his hair, glad she didn't need to try and keep things down tonight. As she came down from the high of her climax she grinned stupidly, loving the way he had been holding her legs down. Full of energy she sat up and thanked him with a languid kiss, not caring where his mouth had been. She pulled him down to lay beside her, and taking her turn now she brought her mouth to his erection and returned the favour, loving the way he responded to her. Propping himself up on his elbows he watched her, his breath coming in short bursts as he told her what to do, what he wanted. She had been intent on getting him all the way there, but as he got closer he pushed her away with a shaky hand, taking a couple of deep breaths to clear his head.

Getting to his knees he moved behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze before pressing his thumbs into her skin. As he gently massaged her shoulders she gave a throaty groan, certain he could convince her to do almost anything in bed while he was rubbing her shoulders.

"I'm going to need plenty of pillows," she sighed, tilting her head to the side as he kissed below her ear. "And if you want to rattle the headboard, we need to be facing the other way."

"God, I love you."

Stopping her massage long before she would have liked, he reached for their pillows and lazily tossed them to the centre of the bed for her to arrange to her liking. Still kissing the side of her neck he ushered her down to sit at the foot of the bed, standing in front of her while his hands roamed her body.

"Do whatever you want with the pillows," he whispered, his voice low and husky near her ear. "Just turn over for me."

She turned to seize his lips with hers, kissing him hard and slipping her tongue between his lips. Leaving him wanting more she happily obliged his request, bundling up the pillows and turning around. With his hands on her hips she let him manoeuvre her into the position he wanted by settling her knees on the edge of the bed, and despite the urgency of his hand pressing her down he waited until he was sure she was comfortable. His hands rubbed her side as he trailed hot, wet kisses down her back, and then he gently eased himself inside her. They started gently as she reacquainted herself with this particular feeling, and then in a short while the headboard was knocking against the wall just as promised.

Not quite an hour later Carrie felt herself drifting off to sleep, surprisingly comfortable sitting on the floor at the end of the bed. Tangled up in the mess that had become their bedsheets, she was warm and content with Rick's arm around her side and her legs draped across his lap. Their bodies having had the time to cool down they sought warmth and intimacy in one another's touch, Carrie resting her head against his shoulder while he dragged his fingers up and down her thigh. It was a peaceful moment for them, one in which they simply sat and enjoyed being with one another.

Reaching up she stroked her hands though his hair, dragging them down his face to stroke his smooth jaw. While he lazily stared into space she was observing him in admiration, considering herself lucky. He'd always had this natural swagger that he wasn't quite aware of, a confidence in himself and her that didn't fade in the bedroom. Being truthful with herself she hadn't expected this from him when they first started sleeping together, having assumed that because he started off a little reserved with her that's the way he aways was in bed. But she'd come to learn that wasn't necessarily the case, that once they got to know one another better a different side of him came out. He was sweet and loving, yes, but passionate and assertive too…sometimes playful.

"Has that wall always been blue?"

Raising her head a little, Carrie followed his gaze to the wall opposite their bed. "I was wondering how long it would take you to notice. I painted it."

This seemed to get his attention, and he looks around at her in disbelief. "You? You painted?"

"Yeah."

With a frown he looked back up at the wall, leaning forward to scrutinise it more carefully. "You painted it all by yourself?"

At this she shook her head. "Glenn wouldn't let me climb the ladder, so he cut in the ceiling line for me, and around the doorframe and baseboards. But I did the rest all by myself."

Looking suitably impressed, Rick nodded his head. "You did a good job."

"You like the colour?"

"The blue is nice. What prompted that?"

This was a question she wished he hadn't asked. "Judith. Permanent marker. Need I say more?"

"How did she get her hands on that?"

"I've been asking myself that for two weeks now. I didn't even know we had one in the house. I'm just glad I caught her before she started drawing on her face. I'd never live it down if you came home to find your daughter looking like that."

"No, you'd never live that down," he agreed, still casting his eyes around the bedroom. "Has the bureau been moved? It used to be a little further to the left."

"Okay, now you're being too perceptive," she said, trying to distract him before he realised she had dropped spots of dark blue paint on the carpet. He wouldn't care about the carpet, but he would laugh at her. "You know, we do need to talk."

"Talk, huh?" he questioned, looking at her in interest. Judging by the way he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, he was trying to avoid the direction of conversation. "You want me to talk, I'll talk to you all night long."

"As much as you know I love your accent in the bedroom, not that kind of talk. I mean an actual talk."

"Ahhh," he muttered in disappointment. In an instant she could see he had become closed off, that he didn't want to talk about anything other than recent activities. "Isn't there a better time?"

"Well, I could have brought this up when I started getting you off." Aware that he was reluctant, she figured she'd start gently. "Abraham and Rosita. You've heard?"

"That they split up, yes."

"They didn't exactly split up," she reminded him. "He left her. For Sasha."

"Yes."

"It's just, it's pretty sensitive territory all around right now. We've got to be supportive of Rosita, but we can't look like we're picking sides, okay?"

At this he gave an incredulous laugh. "You don't think Rosita living with us, as welcome as she was, might be construed as picking a side?"

"Yes, I did think that," she acknowledged. "Which is why we'll go to Abraham and Sasha's new place for dinner some time."

He looked rather unenthused. "Double dating with the new happy couple will be a little awkward."

"Oh, it will be excruciating, but we have to."

"Dare I ask, why we have to?"

Carrie paused, not really wanting to tell him. "Because, I already accepted the invitation."

Rick groaned at this. "I see."

"Really, I'm sure it won't be that bad. They're going to feel more awkward than us."

"It won't be that bad for me, but for you? You'll be the only one who can't drink."

"Sasha probably won't drink, you know what she's like."

Rick just laughed at her. "Trust me, they'll both be drinking. You will be the only sober one among us."

Though disappointed, she just shrugged. "Maybe that will make it easier. Just don't make a fool of yourself this time."

"Me?" he laughed. "I never make a fool of myself."

"You do. That night we celebrated Herschel's birth? You staggered home hanging on to me, and begged me to service you."

"I did not."

"Those were your exact words! Service me."

Laughing along with her, his eyes crinkled as he rested his head on the bed behind him. "I do not recall."

"Well I do," she scolded him playfully. "I had to put you to bed and then sleep on the couch because you were snoring so much. In hind sight, I should have put you on the couch, not me."

"You're a good wife," he said kindly, kissing her. "I'll never say any different."

"So, we'll do dinner?"

"If we must."

Trying to change the subject he started running his hand from her knee up the outside of her thigh, his fingers lightly tickling her ass. They kissed lightly, revelling in the simple moments of intimacy they had missed such as the ability to kiss one another any time they liked. There was almost two months for them to make up for, but she couldn't let herself get distracted. They needed to talk, and there was no point in delaying her questions much longer.

"Is everything alright with you?" she finally asked, wanting to just get it over with. "You didn't seem like yourself this afternoon."

As she knew they would be, his reassurances were swift. "I'm okay," he answered, kissing the front of her shoulder. "It's just strange being home."

Bracing herself, she figured she might as well just go for it. "Was everything okay back at the Kingdom? Carl told me something happened a few weeks ago."

"Did he now," Rick rolled his eyes, a flicker of annoyance appearing in his eyes.

"Don't be mad at him," she implored. "It just kind of slipped out."

"Everything's fine at the Kingdom."

"He said something was wrong, that you were pretty upset."

There was a pause now, Rick looking back at the wall as he mulled over how he was going to respond. "Richard and I had a disagreement. That's all."

Despite the ambiguous answer, Carrie didn't feel that she was being deceived, just that there was more to the story than that. "Must have been a pretty big disagreement to make you want to leave."

"It's under control," he said sincerely, looking her in the eye. "Nothing's changed with you and the baby. I'm taking Carl for his one month check up, and Brea is coming back with us to help with the delivery. It's fine."

"I'm not worried about the baby." She didn't need to say out loud that it was him she worried about. "Is there anything I need to know about Richard? About the Kingdom?"

Again there was another pause, but this time he maintained eye contact. "Tomorrow," he softly replied. "It's why we've called a community meeting."

At this she nodded, recalling the arrangements Carol had been making. "So I have to find out along with everyone else?" she clarified, her tone making it clear she was unhappy with that. "You don't do me the courtesy of a heads up?"

Getting the hint, Rick lowered his gaze as he thought. "Can we talk about it in the morning? Please."

Grateful that he had phrased this as a request and not an instruction, she figured she ought to offer a little leeway here. "In the morning," she reluctantly agreed. " _Before_ the community meeting."

"Yes," he assured her. "Tonight, I just want to enjoy being home."

Warm and content she kissed him lazily, and though their hands started to get away from them they did so slowly, taking their time with one another now. There was no urgency or rush this time, no itch that desperately needed scratching, just the two of them enjoying the sweetness of their reunion, enjoying one another. Thinking about the coming months, Carrie looked forward to their renewed opportunity to simply be together, to count down the days until their baby was born, to be sleep deprived by two infants and a teenager whose new lease on life was sure to cause some mischief. She imagined their time together as long days enjoying the warmer weather, sitting on the front porch drinking lemonade, watching on as Carl rode his skateboard while Judith raced him on her tricycle. Close and safe in her arms would be their baby, faceless and nameless only for a few more months.

"Do you want one more go?" he asked hopefully, raising his head from her neck.

"Was I not clear about that?" she asked, gently putting her hand on his growing erection.

"It's becoming clearer."

Keeping the chill of the air out, Carrie pulled the blankets up over her shoulders as she got up onto her knees, the two of them fumbling about for a few moments as they got comfortable. Knowing exactly what she wanted this time she grabbed some stray pillows and tossed them behind him, pleased when he got the hint. While he lounged back against the foot of the bed he helped her settle herself over him, untangling her foot from the sheets before dragging the blanket back up as it began to fall. Getting comfortable she rocked herself against him, smiling at the small grunt he made as he pushed his hips upward. He pulled her down to him now, arms sliding around her waist as they started to kiss lazily.

A loud and intrusive knock came from their bedroom door, and she had to extract her lips from his before she could answer. "Yeah?"

"Rick?" came Eugene's voice, knocking again. He tried the door knob, repeatedly twisting it back and forth when it wouldn't open. "I need to speak with you."

"Not a good time," he called out, grinning up at Carrie. His arms still wrapped around her waist he rocked up against her with greater urgency, his breath hitching when he tried to slip inside her.

"Are you two having intercourse in there?"

"No!" Carrie called out in dismay, embarrassed by the volume at which he said that. God, Eugene was unbelievable today. "Rick, make him go away."

Rather distracted by other things, Rick swirled his tongue around her breast before pressing his wet lips around her nipple. What started as a wonderful sensation quickly turned to an ache, making her flinch a little.

"Sorry," he apologised, soothing the spot with his tongue. The door knob rattled again, more insistent this time. "Eugene, go away! I'll be downstairs soon."

Eager to get on with it before he was forced to see what the problem was, Carrie reached down and helped him slip inside her, fumbling as she had to reach around her belly. Well practiced, his hands moved to her hips and helped her rock back and forth, her hands clutching at the end of the bed to keep her balance. The blankets slipped from her shoulders and let the cooler air at her skin, but as she strove to break a sweat she found herself not caring. It didn't matter that she was getting carpet burn on her knee, nor that she could feel the baby pressed uncomfortably against her side. Beneath her Rick's head was back and his eyes closed, only occasionally fluttering open to look up at her with what felt like adoration. _Damn right he should look at me in adoration_ , she thought to herself.

Swearing under his breath Rick sat up straight, bringing his lips to hers and panting as they kissed. "I'm close," he grunted shortly, taking a heavy breath. "I don't think I can wait again."

Not minding too much, Carrie pressed her lips to the top of his head. "It's okay. You held out a while the first two times."

He too sharing her laugh Rick moved his hands down to the swell of her ass and squeezed, his fingertips digging in a sure fire sign he was close. "Well, after you got…got your leg up where you did," he panted, trying to distract himself. "…I had to match the effort."

Knowing he would make it up to her some other way Carrie tried picking up the pace, trying to give him exactly what he wanted. But quickly she began to tire, and so she slowed and then moved off him, wasting no time in snatching the pillows from behind him to lay down on. They weren't parted for long, and very quickly he was entering her again with a heavy groan. As he warned he didn't manage to hold out much longer, his fingertips clenching into her thighs as he thrust hard a few more times. When he reached his climax he pressed his lips against hers, their kiss doing little to hide his guttural groan. He lay down beside her in a heap, the expression on his face making her laugh. Feeling rather affectionate the reached over and pushed the hair off his face, letting her fingers linger and stroke the side of his neck.

"You okay?" she asked teasingly. "You are approaching those risky heart attack years."

Though he was panting, he clumsily managed to press his lips against hers. "You're going to have to be more careful with me then."

Just as she started to kiss him properly their expressions began to fall at a sound coming from outside the bedroom…applause.

"Bravo, Rick. Bravo!"

"Eugene!" Carrie shrieked, fumbling for the blankets though he couldn't see her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he apologised, the applause ceasing. "Are you two not finished?"

"We're not doing anything," she denied in embarrassment, high conscious that Carl's bedroom was well within earshot of Eugene's voice. "Go away."

"Then what's with all th-"

Looking around for his clothes, Rick swiftly cut him off. "Eugene," he said darkly as he found his sweats in the corner. "Wait for me downstairs."

"There's no need for embarrassment," he tried to appease them. "Pregnant women exhibit increased arousal and sexual desire due to the evolutionary instinct to keep their mate close for protection. Carrie offering you intercourse is - oh…hello."

Having swung the door open, Rick glared down at him. Still clutching the sheets up to her chest Carrie looked down the hallway, annoyed to see that Carl's bedroom door was open. He had heard.

"You wanna finish that sentence?" Rick dared.

Eugene's smirk slipped from his face, and then stupidly continued. "Offering you intercourse is her wa-"

"What do you want, Eugene?" he asked, stepping out and closing the door.

Carrie strained her ears to listen to what was so damn important.

"I'd to start by saying that I'm very sorry," he said sincerely. "I see now that I'm a competitor male encroaching on your female."

"Trust me, you're no competitor," Rick growled, and despite the situation Carrie had to laugh. "What do you want?"

"A-are you finished in there?"

"No, we're not. And you're talking very loudly."

"In my defence, I did knock."

"Eugene."

There was a pause now, Eugene clearing his throat. "Daryl and Abraham just got back. They dispatched Tara to tell me to tell you that they want to see you at the Infirmary."

At this Carrie's heart sank, she and Rick sharing the same thought. "Are they hurt?" he asked urgently.

"Not them…I'll go now," he said hastily, his footsteps racing across the small hallway before the sound of the baby gate opening and closing was heard.

There was a long pause before their bedroom door opened again, Rick turning on the light as he came back in and closed it behind himself. "Daryl and Abraham are back."

"I heard," she confirmed, glad for the good news. "How much of that did Carl hear?"

"Too much to look him in the eye for at least a week," he muttered, taking a shirt from the drawer and slipping it on. "I don't know what's happened, but I'll be back as soon as I can."

Still sitting on the floor, Carrie nodded in understanding. It didn't matter that she wanted him here, that she wanted to fall asleep next to her husband, right now their people needed him. "Hey," she began after he bent down to kiss her goodbye. "Evolutionary instinct or not…that was fun."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, his furious expression softening. "Hold onto that thought, I'll be back soon enough. I'll make it up to you."

"Don't bother," she brushed him off. "Nothing is going to get this motor running again."

Accepting that, Rick simply left without further delay, closing the door behind himself and leaving her to get her bearings. Eugene's interruption had certainly surprised her, and she could still feel her heart racing, the panic and surge of adrenaline making her feel antsy. Trying to settle she got to her feet and straight away locked the door, enabling herself to feel a little more secure. She set about untangling the sheets and blankets before remaking the bed, wanting to make sure Rick slept comfortably his first night home. As she straightened the comforter Carrie allowed herself a small smile, for the sudden shock to her system seemed to have roused the baby. She could feel it moving inside of her, stretching out it's limbs and making her belly bulge.

Too alert to go straight to sleep she took a quick shower to warm her body and then slipped on her silk robe. Unlocking the door she cautiously stepped out into the hallway and looked around, relieved to see that Carl's bedroom door was closed, though the light was still on. He might have heard the commotion, but he was polite enough to actively avoid her and his father. Grateful for this she slipped across the hall to Judith's bedroom, having noticed on the monitor that she was rousing. In a few short minutes she had settled her and put her back down for the night, having even managed to give her another dose of the cough medicine. She stayed with her for a little while, sitting on the edge of her bed and rubbing her back as she drifted off to sleep again

It was almost an hour before Rick came home, and by then Carrie was back in bed half asleep. She roused when she heard the bedroom door open, and before he even spoke she could tell that everything was okay. She could sense his contentment, that he was peaceful. A click told her he had locked the bedroom door as he entered, the precaution explained when he set his Colt down onto the bedside table. He normally kept it in the downstairs safe at night, but perhaps he was feeling on edge about something, uneasy given it was his first night home in Alexandria.

"They're okay," he assured her. Seeing that she hadn't bothered with pyjamas, he began to undress and then slipped back into bed beside her. For the first time he noticed the body pillow she hugged to her front, looking rather put out by what it prevented him from seeing. "They left a truck full of supplies at the bottom of a lake, but they're okay."

Carrie managed a sleepy laugh. "So they had a _day_ ," she smiled. "Why did they need you?"

As he moved closer he pressed his lips to her shoulder, his hand brushing down her side. "They brought back a stray."

This piqued her interest. "A stray, huh? Like the one you brought back from Georgia?"

"No, I don't they're going to marry this one," he muttered, kissing her shoulder again before slowly bringing his lips to hers. They kissed softly now, his hand still lingering on her side. "So…is the motor still running?"

Though she knew he was suggesting they pick up where they left off, Carrie shook her head apologetically. "No, I'm sorry. I can still hear Eugene applauding."

"Mmmm," he murmured in disappointed agreement. "There's always tomorrow."

With a heavy sigh he kissed her once more before moving onto his back, stretching out and looking up at the ceiling. As they got comfortable he reached out through the darkness and rested his hand on the side of her belly, though she had her suspicions that it would creep lower towards her ass as the night progressed. Not minding, she closed her eyes and snuggled up with her body pillow, ridiculously comfortable with it. Not to her surprise it took a little while to get used to having Rick there beside her, just as it had on the two occasions he returned for a brief visit while he was staying at the Kingdom. His breathing, the touch of his hand, the mere presence of another person there beside her was all very strange to reacclimatise herself to, though not at all unwelcome.

When she started to rouse the need to go to the bathroom indicated she had been sleeping for many hours. Used to this by now, not that her frustrations were at all eased, she hauled herself out of bed and headed into the bathroom. When she collapsed back down beside Rick she raised her head long enough to note that it was almost six o'clock in the morning. Amazed that Judith had slept all through the night without intruding into their bedroom, a rarity for her, Carrie took advantage of that. She snuggled up to Rick as best she could with her body pillow at her front, and then took his hand and moved it back onto her ass. He looked so sweet as he lay there sleeping, barely a snore having passed his lips that night…maybe she'd put out after all.

In no time at all she was lightly dozing again, unable to completely go back to sleep because of the small but annoying movements the baby was making. It was keeping her just on the cusp of consciousness, though she was sleepy enough to not immediately react when she heard the bedroom door opening. It was just Judith she told herself…Judith, whose fingertips barely reached the door knob, who wouldn't have been able to unlock the door even if there was a key. Struggling with that notion Carrie let her eyes flutter open again.

"Rick…"

The sound of her husband's name came not from her mouth, but from the shadowy figure at the end of the bed. Still trying to open her eyes she frowned at the shadow and tried to understand. Was it Carl? Was something wrong? As these thoughts started she felt herself rousing, concerned that he was unwell.

"Rick."

The sound of his name came more firmly this time, and that was then Rick reacted. Beside her he suddenly jolted awake and lunged, prompting the same reaction from her. Though her limbs were heavy with sleep and her body a little more difficult to manoeuvre at times, Carrie swiftly leapt out of bed to her feet. Rick's reaction was all she needed to know that something was wrong, that they needed to protect themselves. As her eyes adjusted she heard the familiar click of the hammer on Rick's Colt being pulled back, and she glimpsed him standing on his side of the bed with the gun raised.

Bile rose in her throat when she properly looked at the stranger standing at the end of their bed, an odd smile on his face despite the way he held his hands in the air. With barely a split second to take in his beanie, long hair and heavy coat Carrie acted to protect herself, seizing the lamp from her nightstand and yanking the plug from the socket. She didn't know what was happening, who this person was and what they wanted to do to them, but she was going to defend herself by any means necessary.

Still smiling oddly, the stranger glanced at her from the corner of his eye and then turned to Rick, looking only at him. "We need to talk."

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading guys, hope you enjoyed the little change of Abraham and Daryl going on the adventure where they meet Jesus. Next chapter is one of my most favourite, Carrie totally gets her bitch on!

Please leave a review, and tune in next week for chapter 33 :-)


	33. Chapter 33

Tuesday 20 Jan

It was fair to say that a lot had happened over the last few weeks…even though simultaneously nothing had happened. The day Rick learned about the Saviours felt like months ago, not a mere three first night after that tribute meeting had been entirely sleepless, Rick laying in his bed staring up at the ceiling. He felt lost, helplessly searching for a solution where there was none. In the bed adjacent to him was Carl, having not believed him when he told him not to worry, that he had just overreacted about a bad supply run. Carl knew something was wrong, just as much as he knew that no matter what it was, Rick's hands were tied. They had both seen that no one in the Kingdom would allow him to take his son home before he had recovered enough. Perhaps that was why Carl spent the next few days downplaying his pain and general malaise, why he insisted he was perfectly fine to go back to work and school before they really thought he was.

Yet even if Carl was well enough for them to all go home, that alone didn't present the solution Rick needed. Even if he was back in Alexandria, what was he going to do? How was he going to protect his people from everything Richard had just warned him about?

The one thing he couldn't get out of his head was an all too familiar mantra, one he had found himself repeating months ago as they set about preparing to evacuate the quarry herd. _We have to come for them, before they come for us._ That was the mistake he had made at the prison, his wishful thinking that the Governor had run away with his tail between his legs, that he was gone for good. Back then he had used this notion as an excuse to just let it go, to allow the people at the prison to go about their lives in peace…and then they came for them. His naivety meant they were caught unawares, and that was not a mistake he could afford to make a second time.

But how could he possibly protect his family and community from a threat he knew almost nothing about?

That in itself was the first problem, the fact that he knew so little about Negan and the Saviours. Wasn't the premise of the best horror films merely fear of the unknown? His lack of knowledge was a problem he could address, he could do something about this. He needed to learn more about the threat, to even the playing field as much as possible. The first day after the meeting with the Saviours he had gone straight to Richard and asked him for more information, he and Michonne quizzing him for everything he knew. Everything mattered, every minute detail was committed to memory. There were hundreds of them the day that Frank was murdered, the group made up of almost entirely men with a few women scattered here and there. But in the year that followed it was only ever the same group that retrieved their tribute, the group led by Gavin.

Needing to learn more, Rick, Daryl and Michonne had immediately put a plan into action, willing to take a risk. Hiding the Kingdom's associating with Alexandria was the key to maintaining the advantage, particularly if the worst happened and Alexandria came under attached. Glad that Gavin's group hadn't paid him much attention the other week, Rick opted not to attend the next tribute meeting, instead watching the exchange from afar with Daryl and Michonne. That day when the two groups parted Daryl and Michonne also parted, taking a huge risk by attempting to follow Gavin's group. Though they had been at it for the better part of a day they were unsuccessful in following them far, quickly losing track of them when their two vehicles parted and travelled in different directions. A moment of hesitation was all it took for them to lose both vehicles, and even searching for them for the rest of the day yielded no results.

Weeks later they were now on the road to the Hilltop colony, throwing caution to the wind and trusting the man who had broken through multiple locked doors just to stir up shit. But hell, what else was Rick going to do today? Everything had come out now. The Saviours, the Kingdom's relationship with them, the fact that Rick and the others had known for three weeks now. With Jesus' unexpected arrival proving convenient, that morning Rick had rallied the community together in the church and told them everything, leaving nothing unspoken. By now they knew as much as he did, that the people who nearly killed Daryl, Abraham and Sasha were not gone, that they were bigger and stronger than anticipated…and that they were coming for Alexandria.

"The Kingdom have asked for our help," he explained that morning in the church, having already recounted everything he knew. He had a completely captive audience, those present hanging on to his every word. "When the time is right they want us to fight with them, to be their allies against the Saviours. They went about it the wrong way. They tricked us…lured us into a false sense of security by giving us what we needed, and once we were in their debt they told us the price."

For a moment he paused, glancing at Lana who sat in the front pew with Carol. There had been a range of reactions from his people so far. Shock, fear, outrage…but Lana had been unusually quiet. He had expected her to be highly outspoken, to make a point of sharing her outrage, but she hadn't said a word. Instead she sat quietly with her arms folded, but the restless bouncing of her knee indicated to Rick that she was as anxious as the rest of them.

"I want to make one thing clear. I will not allow Alexandria to be held ransom to a debt we did not consent to. We will not be forced into anything. There is a choice to make, that's the distinction that matters…it will be our choice."

At this there was a soft flurry of movement, shoulders slumping in relief, people turning to those beside them and sharing a few quiet words of consolation. They were glad to hear their leader saying this, but Rick was quick to fully explain himself…he couldn't let them misunderstand for too long.

"That said…I believe we need to consider this." More low murmurs broke out now, the community's relief only short lived. "The Saviours are already looking for us. They've found us once, they will find us again. This is already our fight."

"No, it's not," Eric implored, getting to his feet as he spoke. "We can't go rushing off looking for war with people we don't even know. We have options."

It was frustrating to hear this, but Rick forced himself to exercise patience. He'd had three weeks to wrap his head around all of this, time to understand and reflect on their options…he needed to allow his people to have that time too.

"Right now, yes, we have options. We've taken steps to start protecting ourselves. We've extended our physical surveillance with posts on the highways, we're setting up more safe houses, and we're doing what we can to learn more about them. We oversaw another tribute meeting, Daryl and Michonne managed to track them north for twenty miles. They split into two groups and went separate ways, so we know they're in more than one place. And thanks to Jesus, we know that the group taking tribute from the Kingdom are not the same group taking tribute from the Hilltop. But they're all the same network…they're all Saviours."

"How does knowing that help us?" Eric asked nervously, resuming his seat at Aaron's request.

"It means we know what we're up against…we know what's coming for us, because I guarantee they're coming for us. I don't know when that's going to happen, and nor do I know how. But when they do come for us, they'll kill some of us…they've killed kids before," he said heavily, pausing to let the magnitude sink in. "Once that happens, they will own us. We have to be ready. Like I said…we're already involved. This is already our war."

Allowing everyone to collect their thoughts Rick took the opportunity to look around at everyone, noting their expressions and trying to gauge their sentiment. He noticed Lana looking over her shoulder, making eye contact with Vetor who sat three rows behind her, but she very quickly turned around and began studying her fingernails, not looking up.

"I believe we need to give our allegiance to the Kingdom," he began, trying to lighten his tone, to sound more reassuring. "I believe we need to stand by them if things escalate into war. If we promise them our allegiance they will stand by us too, and eventually we're going to need that alliance. It's going to be a group decision," he added, wanting to be clear on this. "It has to be. But it's not a decision we need to make straight away. I'm not seeing Richard or the Kingdom for another two weeks, and today I'm going with Jesus to the Hilltop, to meet with his leader and see who else might be on our side. Things there might change our minds…or they might confirm what I believe to be true, that doing nothing will be a fatal mistake."

Ultimately Rick was forced to leave it at that, having nothing more to say to his people that he hadn't already. Now was the time for them to go home and think it over, while he went to the Hilltop to learn more. He wasn't bringing his people into a war on only Richard's information. He hadn't been forthright with him, and for that reason Rick's trust in him would only extend so far. When tensions between them had cooled he and Richard had come to a reluctant understanding, one they reiterated the day Rick and his family left for home.

"I'm not walking away from what you need," he told him, the two sharing a brief conversation before his departure. "But nor are we saying yes."

"That's not a no," Richard said gratefully, accepting this for now.

"It's not a yes either."

Right now, this wasn't yet Rick's fight. He didn't want to risk the lives of his people…but one day soon it would be their fight, that much was inevitable. That was the part he struggled to wrap his head around, the notion that everything Richard had shown or told him was essentially a glimpse into his own future. He wasn't naive enough to presume that the Saviours would never find Alexandria. Hell, it was possible they had already found them, that they were just biding their time before making a move. It was this possibility that made Rick determined to be the one who acted first.

As their journey progressed, Rick glanced at Carrie who lounged in the passenger seat beside him, the only other seat in the RV with a safety belt. She stared out the window with a blank expression on her face, having not taken her eyes off the scenery since they departed Alexandria. She had insisted on coming with them that day, asserting that she wanted to see this place for herself, to meet Gregory. Though he had been in stark disagreement, to his own surprise he hadn't argued with her, and now he was beginning to understand a little more of her desire. It had been a stressful day, and that stress was unlikely to wane as they journeyed to a strange place, but Carrie had spent the last few months growing increasingly stir crazy. She needed this…she needed to get out of Alexandria before she faced long term confinement with their newborn.

Hearing murmurs of conversation in the otherwise silent vehicle, Rick glanced into the rear view mirror. Lana was up and walking down the hall, entering the rear bedroom and disappearing from his view. She had joined them on the journey to Hilltop with reluctance, seeing that Rick would not have tolerated her refusal. Her behaviour that day was concerning him, for although she seemed perfectly calm in the church meeting he had noted her restless energy. When the meeting concluded she immediately vacated her pew and strode down the aisle, falling into step beside Vetor as they left together. This in itself was odd, for Sasha who had been overseeing their surveillance had told him the two had fallen out, that they had barely spoken since before Christmas.

While he supposed the threat of imminent danger from the Saviours was enough to make them set aside their differences, Rick was still concerned by their behaviour. He too made a point of quickly leaving the church, following Vetor and Lana while they made the short walk home. Ahead of them they had no idea he was following them, that he was getting a clear glimpse into their secretive conversation that had dissolved into a frantic argument by the time they reached their shared townhouse. It was then that Rick made his presence known, noting how upset Lana was in contrast to Vetor's unusually calm demeanour.

"Lana, you're coming with us to the Hilltop. I want you there."

"No," she shook her head, turning away and taking the stairs to her door two at a time. "I'm busy today."

To Rick's surprise it was Vetor who changed her mind, quickly intercepting her at the door and murmuring something to her. She looked at him in outrage, hissing something under her breath that didn't quite sound like English, but then he turned back to Rick and spoke on her behalf.

"We will accompany you to the Hilltop," he said cooperatively, placing his hand on her elbow. "Won't we, Lana?"

There was a heavy pause now, and still unconvinced it took a long moment before she nodded her head. "Fine. I'll come," she said shortly.

"Good," Rick said bluntly, concerned by the dynamic between the two. In that moment he studied the dark bruising on Vetor's face, frustrated that their first attempt to take him out in a construction accident had failed. "Vetor, you'll need to take over from Michonne on the east post. Now, please."

In that instant Vetor's expression soured, having not realised that he wasn't wanted, and in the same moment Lana's features brightened for a split second. She was glad that he wasn't coming, just as Rick suspected.

"Não se esqueça do seu chapéu."

Though he didn't understand a word of what Lana said to him before she turned on her heel, Rick was willing to wager a guess that Vetor didn't like it. Conscious of what seemed like renewed conflict between the two of them, Rick left instructions with the right people to keep listening to the bugs in their house. He wanted to know what was going on with them, suspecting that talks of running off like they had once planned might come up again. While he didn't care so much about Mitchell, Mina and Vetor, Rick was suitably concerned about what Lana might do. He felt responsible for her these days, sympathetic to the way Vetor had manipulated her for so long. All along she had been adamant about wanting to stay and make a life in Alexandria, and his unwillingness to exile and kill her meant that Vetor too got to stay, in spite of his suspected involvement in Spencer's death. Rick didn't like the idea of her leaving Alexandria. Not only did he hate the idea of sending her back out onto the road, they would need someone like her if things turned into a fight.

For the majority of the two hour journey Jesus had been sitting quietly beneath the watchful gaze of Abraham and Daryl, having given up on the notion of making small talk or trying to be friendly with them. But for the first time he got to his feet, and his movement spurred a flurry of attention in his direction. Rick watched in his peripheral vision as he came closer to the front, placing his hands on the top of the driver and passenger seat to steady himself. Politely smiling, he settled down onto his knees by Rick's side, peering through the windscreen and then telling him to start slowing down.

"Turn right just ahead. The road just after the broken fence there."

As Rick made the turn Jesus stayed where he was, looking at Carrie. "I'd like to apologise for what happened this morning," he said sincerely, though it was clear his apology was directed only to her. "I didn't mean to catch you so…"

"Under dressed?" Carrie supplied, looking at him with a strange expression.

"Yes" he nodded demurely. "I'm sorry for that. I didn't know there'd be someone else in the room. If it makes any difference, I really don't want to find out the what you can do with a table lamp."

It was this remark that seemed to make Carrie soften, the hint of a smile appearing in her eyes before she turned away. "I accept your apology."

"Thank you," he said softly. "You know…I hope we can be friends. I think our communities have a lot to offer one another."

"I think so too."

As he manoeuvred the RV over the muddy road Rick looked at her questioningly, surprised she seemed so chummy. This guy Jesus was a smooth talker…problem was he seemed genuine about what he said. Understanding the root of the look he was giving her, Carrie just shrugged in bemusement. Though still curious there wasn't a moment space to consider it anymore, his attention quickly diverted when he felt the RV's wheels slipping. He grit his teeth as he looked at the muddy terrain ahead, turning the wheel and trying to bring the tyres up onto firmer ground, but he was met with only failure. As the RV squelched to a stop he hit the gas, the engine revving but to no avail.

In the passenger seat Carrie was shaking her head at him. "What's with the Grimes men getting us stuck in the mud?" she asked dryly.

Despite the predicament, Rick couldn't help but smile at the memory her comment invoked. Last year on his thirty eighth birthday, Carl had been driving on the Georgia supply run when they got stuck in some muddy terrain. Carrie had been there with them, sprawled out in the back seat and pretending she wasn't unnerved to have a leaner driver behind the wheel. Back then they'd shared only a few fleeting kisses that one night at the prison, one night Rick had spent the rest of his days thinking about until they threw caution to the wind and kissed again…and again and again.

"No worries," Jesus said, peering through the windscreen. "We're here."

Figuring they could deal with this later, Rick killed the engine as the group got to their feet and started collecting their weapons. Despite going into unchartered territory he didn't feel apprehensive, already trusting that Jesus was who he said he was. It was only the vague familiarity Rick already had with this person that prevented him from being shot that morning in the bedroom. Richard had already told him about Jesus, and they'd been banking on the possibility that he might stop by the Kingdom before Rick returned home, but it hadn't happened. But that night when he saw the stray that Daryl and Abraham had brought back from their venture out, Rick identified him before even learning his name. The long hair and beard were a misfit for the true youthfulness of his age, but they were a clear signal that this was indeed the man Richard had told him about. He could be trusted, he was a connection to another community that the Kingdom and Alexandria would need should war break out…and Rick had faith in him already.

Confident in today's venture they followed Jesus without hesitation, nevertheless they went with their weapons close at hand, ready for anything. While he led the group Rick glanced over his shoulder at Carrie, pleased to note that she was sticking close by Michonne's side, though the coat she wore did little to hide the fact that she was heavily pregnant. He'd specifically asked her to wear it today, to hide the additional vulnerability she faced these days, but it wasn't as effective as it had been when they first visited the Kingdom.

As this thought occurred to him she glanced up and noticed his attention, and to his relief she managed a small smile for his benefit, one he appreciated seeing today. She had been suitably upset that morning, both outraged and frightened to find a complete stranger in her bedroom, in the place she was supposed to feel safe. Yet despite this she hadn't panicked, and even though she was naked and vulnerable she had immediately leapt to her own defence, making a weapon out of whatever was at hand.

"That's it," Jesus announced. "That's the Hilltop."

Ahead of them were walls not unlike Alexandria's, though close inspection revealed them to be constructed from enormous wooden beams. They were as tall as Alexandria's walls, but from here they was nothing he could see over it, not a glimpse of roof tops or a watch tower, only a plume of grey smoke rising into the air.

"Stop right there!"

Though Jesus had warned them this his people would stop them before they got close, Rick and the others raised their weapons in unison. Not for a moment would they leave themselves undefended, regardless of their trust and faith in Jesus.

"You gonna make us?" Daryl growled, his crossbow raised to the two figures that had appeared at the top of the walls before them.

"Woah," Jesus began, placating both parties.

"Jesus, what the hell is this?" one of the guards demanded angrily, a long spear poised over his shoulder and ready to throw.

"Open the gates, Cal," Jesus said impatiently, looking back at Rick apologetically. "Sorry about these guys. They get antsy standing around up there all day doing nothing."

"Can't say I blame them," Rick murmured, though he maintained his grip on the rifle. Though they were only toting spears he wasn't naive enough to discount their threat. These days everyone was an expert in the weapons they wielded, and he wasn't thrilled by the idea of dodging spears.

"They give up their weapons," Cal insisted, his voice and body language fraught with tension. "Then we'll open the gates."

"We're here because we might be willing to help you fight the Saviours," Rick started, taking care not to issue any sort of promise that would give false hope. "Either you let us in now, or we'll just head on home."

"Give up your guns!"

Holding the man's gaze, Rick simply shook his head, unwilling to be the first to disarm themselves.

"For the last time, Cal. Open the gates."

The stand off continued a moment longer, and then Cal and the other guard tentatively lowered their spears, though they made a point of expressing their discontent. When the other guard disappeared from his post to open the gates Rick too lowered his weapon, the rest of his group following suit. He looked around at them now, wordlessly taking in their thoughts and evaluations on their first real encounter with the Kingdom. Just like he, the others seemed cautious overall, but thus far nothing unexpected had come up. Given Jesus was returning with uninvited strangers, they had expected resistance on the Hilltop's part.

There was a loud clunking sound as the enormous gates began to open inward, the Hilltop Colony inside making its first appearance. As it revealed itself to them they stood there in awe, taking in the enormous home further up the hill, one that seemed quite out of place in the middle of no where. They waited until Jesus invited them in, and then without hesitation they followed him inside, still awed by what they found.

"There was a material's yard for an electrical company near by. That's how we put up the walls," Jesus explained, slowly leading them through the Kingdom. "A lot of people came from a FEMA camp. The trailers came with them."

While Jesus launched into an explanation of the grand home before them and its history, Rick and the others were looking around, scrutinising everything they could see. Their set up was entirely different to the Kingdom's, and in keeping with the colonial style of Barrington House the elements they had built themselves were rustic and old fashioned, yet perfectly functional. To their left was what looked like a metal working shop, while elsewhere firewood was being chopped, a flock of chickens clucking in approval as someone scattered feed in their coop.

Not wanting to waste time Jesus took them inside the house, and though he kept a straight face about it Rick couldn't help admitting that he was impressed. The interior of Barrington House was a true testament to the era in which it was built, with any maintenance and work throughout the years having been completed with great sensitivity and care. Nevertheless he allowed himself only a moment to look in awe, and soon his gaze turned to one of scrutiny. What was the catch? What was wrong with this place? There was always something…

"People live here, and in the trailers?" he asked, looking up the grand staircase.

"We plan to build. There're babies being born."

At the mention of this Rick glanced around, noticing the way Jesus was looking to Carrie with a smile, one that she returned. This guy, young though he seemed, was charismatic in a completely non-threatening way. His friendly demeanour felt real. Despite the rude awakening that morning, so far nothing about him was rubbing Rick up the wrong way. Richard had vouched for him, and his assessment had been true.

Across the foyer a set of double doors opened, and it was then Rick got his first glimpse at the Hilltop's infamous leader. Making quite the entrance, Gregory stood there in the threshold, pausing a moment as Daryl hurriedly stepped away.

"Jesus. You're back," Gregory noted, looking to the rest of them as he stepped out and straightened his jacket. "With guests."

"Everyone, this is Gregory. He keeps the trains running on time around here."

Gregory raised his head, proud of the introduction. "I'm the boss," he clarified, just in case it had been unclear.

For a brief moment Rick raised an eyebrow, surprised by the greeting. This was how the leader of a community greets a group of uninvited strangers? By preening and puffing up his chest? He was older than Rick had been expecting, perhaps mid to late sixties…would they face clashes because of their different generations, or their different personalities?

"I'm Rick," he began politely, stepping forward. "We have a community-"

"Why don't y'all go get cleaned up," Gregory suggested, waving a hand towards the stairs as he looked around to them, his eyes pausing on Daryl.

When he turned back to him with his hands on his hips, Rick wasn't entirely sure what to say. "We're fine," he stated, not wanting to waste time, but Gregory was having none of it.

"Jesus will show you where you can get washed up. Then come back down here when you're ready," continued, walking towards Rick. Without warning he leaned in close, speaking over him before he could get a word out. "It's hard to keep this place clean."

Holding his breath, Rick looked him in the eye for a moment, his words of disdain right on the tip of his tongue. Over Gregory's shoulder he caught a glimpse of Carrie and Michonne standing together, seeing their wry expressions. They were waiting for him to go in for the kill, to put this pompous prick in his place. But for now he restrained himself, conscious of what was at stake. If Gregory needed to preen and puff out his chest to feel comfortable with the uninvited strangers in his home, then so be it.

"Yeah. Sure," he agreed, willing to play along.

This seemed to be the right thing to do, Gregory's face crinkling into a warm and welcoming smile as he stepped back and turned to Jesus expectantly. While Jesus dutifully came forward to lead them upstairs Rick lingered back a little, scrutinising Gregory a moment longer before falling into step behind Carrie. Today was important, and not just for the relationship between their two communities. He wanted to know why Gregory hadn't fought against the Saviours, and if he would consider it in future…he got the impression that was going to take a lighter touch than he was capable of that day.

Getting her attention, Rick subtly put his hand on Carrie's lower back as they climbed the stairs together. "You clean up first," he murmured softly, glancing down at Gregory who was watching them ascend. "You talk to him."

As he expected, Carrie seemed skeptical. "Why?"

Wanting to be perfectly clear, he turned back to her and spoke with honesty. "I shouldn't."

* * *

After months of hoping it was just a one time thing their worst fears had been confirmed. Negan was not a figment of someone's imagination, he was out there, and so were his people. Already they had the Kingdom and another community living under their tyranny, their lives at risk every waking moment…and they were looking for Alexandria now. The encounter with the biker gang was no accident, it was no one time thing…it was going to happen again.

Their morning hadn't started out so well, not that things got much better once Rick and Carrie were both dressed. With Jesus sitting at their dining table, in Rick's chair no less, they had quickly been brought up to speed with everything going on in the world outside their safe, peaceful community. Everything that Rick wanted to tell her himself, to tell the community himself, they were hearing directly from Jesus.

"I checked out your arsenal…or what I could see through the windows at least. Judging by your locks and security you're well equipped. But your supplies are low. Very low for the amount of people you have. Fifty four?

"More than that," Carrie commented, staring at him with her eyes narrowed.

Noticing her tone Jesus turned to her, his expression apologetic. "Look, we got off to a bad start."

"You got that damn right."

"We're on the same side," he emphasised, holding her gaze before turning to Abraham and Daryl. "You both had every reason to leave me, but you didn't. I took your truck because my community needs things, and both of you looked like trouble. I was wrong," he concluded, turning to Rick now. "Richard's told you about me…about the Hilltop's situation."

Shifting in his seat, Rick glanced around at the others, looking rather uncomfortable. "I'm aware."

"Then you know what's coming for you."

To this he gave no reply, and a heavy silence came over the room. Looking at the both of them expectantly Carrie waited for someone to continue, but while Jesus was holding his tongue Rick was actively avoiding eye contact, his face downcast.

Breaking the silence Glenn slowly leant forward, pointedly clearing his throat. "What is coming for us?"

At this prompt Rick slowly rose to his feet, collecting his thoughts as he turned to address them all at once. While he spoke he glanced to Michonne and Daryl, and it was then that she knew it was something bad.

"The group of bikers who tried to attack us, there's more of them," he said heavily, his voice carrying the burden of what he told them. "This guy Negan…he's the head of a group called the Saviours. At our best guess, there's well over a hundred of them."

"That's a _conservative_ estimate," Michonne spoke up, standing there with her arms crossed over her chest.

"They've spent the last year extorting the Kingdom for supplies, and Jesus and his group for the last two years."

"As soon as our walls were built, the Saviours showed up," Jesus explained, sounding like this wasn't the first time he had recited the story. "They met with our leader, they made a lot of demands…even more threats. And they killed one of us. Rory," he said softly. For a moment his eyes darted over to Carl, scrutinising him before looking back at Rick. "He was your son's age, and they beat him to death."

"And this was two years ago?" Glenn questioned skeptically. "This has been going on for two years?"

"Gregory, our leader. He's not one for confrontation. He's not the leader I would've chosen, but he helped make this place what it is. And the people like him."

"He made the deal," Rick continued explaining. "Just like Ezekiel and Richard had to. Half of everything."

"And do you get in return?"

Jesus paused, looking at them all as though the answer was obvious. "They don't kill us…at least not too often, anyway."

"And you've never fought back?" Carrie asked, sharing Glenn's disbelief. "Not in two years?"

"Other groups fought back," Jesus stated, his voice becoming hard. "They fought back after I told them not to…and now they're gone. But Ezekiel listened to me, he made the deal for peace…only in hindsight I wish he hadn't. And, now…"

"Now, we're next," Rick concluded, saying the words that everyone knew were coming. "They've already found us once. Jesus and Richard both agree they've been looking for us again."

The silence that followed was excruciating, each of them trying to comprehend all that they had learned. Yet even as she too struggled to comprehend the news, it didn't take much to figure out that it wasn't news to some. Daryl, Michonne and Abraham…they already knew, she didn't even have to look them in the eye. Of course they would know. Three weeks ago Rick had been in a panic, ready to pack up and come home to Alexandria, and it had been this news of the Saviours that set him off. As the dust settled and he accepted that he needed to stay, select members of the group had been brought in on the news straight away. While she could accept that keeping her in the dark had been for her own benefit, it still bothered her.

"It's getting worse for us," Jesus spoke up, ending the silence. "Things have been strained for a while now, but last month they claimed our tribute was light. They killed three of us, sent Ethan back to kill Gregory…he almost succeeded. The same thing is going to start happening to the Kingdom. It's starting for them."

"Where are you going?" Carl asked quietly, watching her as Carrie got up from her place at the table.

She made a point of not looking at anyone, keeping her gaze downcast. "Judith's awake."

"No she's not," he said in confusion, gesturing to the baby monitor he had on the table. "She's sti-"

"She's awake!" she snapped at him under her breath. _God, why couldn't he take a fucking hint?_

Making a quick escape she went upstairs to seek solitude, needing some privacy to fully process what she had learned. To her frustration Judith was indeed still fast asleep, though when Carrie went in and sat down on the end of her bed she started to rouse a little. She watched as her eyes fluttered open, but when she closed them and remained sleeping she waited patiently, taking the time to think. It was a lot for her to take in, a huge danger the likes of which she wasn't sure she had ever faced before. Granger and his group would be nothing in comparison to Negan and his hundreds of Saviours…this wasn't some unfortunate run in with another group in which something was misunderstood and people got defensive, she'd encountered that many times before. The Saviours, they'd been at this a long time, they were surely good at it after all this time. Now Alexandria were in their sights…they were next.

There was a heavy sigh from the other end of the bed, Judith's eyes open now. She was blinking slowly, gazing at Carrie as if wondering why she was there on her bed. Half asleep still she started murmuring, and judging by the inflexion of her tone it was a greeting.

"Good morning, Judy Pie," she said softly, using the name Rick often called her in tender moments like this. "Are you ready to get out of bed?"

"No," she answered weakly, but her actions contradicted herself. With another heavy sigh she sat up and then shuffled down the bed, leaving her duck behind as she reached for Carrie instead, needing her.

Exhausted and still sickly, Judith settled on her lap and snuggled up to her, closing her eyes and beginning to go back to sleep. It was at this moment that Rick made his way upstairs looking for her, but silence lingered even when he stood in the threshold and watched them. Neither of them said a word, not quite knowing where to begin, but after a minute or two he managed something.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you straight away," he started, and though his apology was genuine she could already hear that he was readying to defend himself. "It's just th-"

"I'm not angry with you," she cut him off, wanting to be clear on that. She looked up at him, her hand stroking Judith's back. "I'm scared…but I'm not angry with you."

Quietly thanking her for her understanding, Rick continued. "We're bringing the community meeting forward a few hours, and then I'm going straight to the Hilltop Colony with Jesus. The sooner we talk to Gregory, the better."

"It's a good idea. We need to learn as much as we can straight away."

"Yes, we do. The community meeting starts in forty minutes."

"I'm coming with you. To the Hilltop," she clarified. She looked him in the eye as she said this, holding his gaze and not faltering. "I want to see that place myself. I want to meet Gregory."

Rick's expression flashed with disapproval, his lips parting on the cusp of a rebuttal…but then he fell silent. He simply looked at her for what felt like forever, and she almost could see the wheels turning in his head, could imagine the thought process going on inside. But she held her ground, making it clear to him that this wasn't a request. She wasn't asking for his permission. In the end he didn't say anything at all, his silence on the matter an acknowledgement of the fact that he couldn't keep her here forever. Without a word he came forward and kissed her on the cheek, the touch of his hand on her shoulder an effort to offer reassurance. It helped, but only a little.

Standing there in the beautiful bathroom at Barrington House, Carrie took a few moments to collect herself, to straighten her thoughts. As she washed her hands and then rubbed some water over her face she looked up into the aged mirror, wishing she looked more well rested. Rick was sending her to talk to Gregory, a small, weasel like man who gave her the creeps already. She was starting to regret her insistence on coming, though when she looked round the strange new environment she knew she had made the right decision. She needed to get out of Alexandria, to be someone other than the pregnant woman wiping snotty noses and changing diapers. Nevertheless she wasn't looking forward to this meeting with Gregory, though she had to agree it was best Rick didn't do the talking.

"What do you want out of this conversation?" she asked, drying her hands on the hand towel and then turning back to him. "What am I negotiating for?

Leaning against the door, Rick was waiting patiently with her rifle slung over his shoulder. "We're not negotiating for anything. We're here for information…if anyone can get it out of that guy, it's you."

She nodded slowly, appreciating the words of encouragement. "Specifics?" There had been a lot to learn today…Jesus and the Hilltop, the Saviours, the Kingdom's involvement, the inevitable discovery of Alexandria. It was difficult to wrap her head around all of the details.

"The Saviours. I want to know why Gregory isn't fighting them. And I want to know if he's willing to."

Though she nodded to convey her understanding, Carrie was not convinced. Still working it over in her mind she took both rifles and allowed him to go the sink, washing his hands and face as though he was the filthiest man to ever pass through the doors. "You might be better to get this information from Jesus," she commented. "He knows what's up around here. But Gregory? He's very…braggadocio."

Rick laughed under his breath, raising his head and looking at her in the mirror. "Braggadocio?"

"He's boastful," she explained, recalling the way he told them _I'm the boss_. "For whatever reason he feels inferior about something, which is why he acts superior. He won't want to talk to me."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a woman. A pregnant woman," she added. "He won't take well to me at all."

"And you think he'll take well to me?"

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Carrie managed a small smile. "No."

At this she leant the rifles against the wall then shrugged off her jacket, removing her shirt as Rick turned around. It had been straining at the seams around her belly, but the soft pink tank top she wore underneath was stretched to the limit. Questioning the validity of the so-called built in bra, she readjusted the tank top in a few places and then looked at herself in the mirror, pleased with the effect. The fabric was tight across her belly and her breasts, showing off the way her naval bulged. It was warm enough inside the house that when the time was right she could go without her coat…Gregory wouldn't know where to look.

Rick seemed suitably surprised when she tossed her shirt to him and asked him to put it in his satchel, but figured it best not to question her plan. "A person's arrogance has never stopped you going up against them, has it?"

"Hell no," she shook her head, pulling on her coat and zipping it up. Handing both rifles to him she returned to the mirror and tried to fix her hair a little, pinching her cheeks and lips to add a little colour to them. Without a tube of lipstick this would have to do. "This might even be fun."

Not wasting anymore time they joined the others who were waiting for them, allowing Glenn and Michonne to go in next, but they didn't wait for them. Daryl and Abraham waited at the mouth of the stairs and went back down with them, no doubt ready to linger with Rick outside of Gregory's office for the duration of their talk. Having cleaned up already Jesus was downstairs in the welcome hall, looking remarkably different without his beanie and heavy coat. Lana too was downstairs, a silent presence that sat in the foyer's original chairs. She was unusually quiet today, her silence taking Carrie by surprise. If she was displeased by something, which judging by the perpetual scowl on her face she was, normally she would be quite vocal about it. But most out of character she had barely said a word since the church meeting that morning…then again, perhaps it was a blessing to them all.

"Gregory's expecting you," Jesus said, meeting her at the foot of the stairs. "I've told him a little about your group, about Alexandria…"

"Does he know why we're here?"

At this he paused, slowly shaking his head. "It's a sore subject between him and I. He thinks you're here to talk trade."

Keeping this in mind, Carrie braced herself for the necessity of breaking it to him, of telling him they were considering war. She knew little of Gregory, only that he was the Hilltop's leader and that neither Richard nor Jesus held him in high esteem. For all intents and purposes neither did she. His mere entrance and introduction had rubbed her up the wrong way. First impressions mattered.

"Don't pretend you're not listening at the keyhole," she said to Rick, brushing her hand against his.

"I'll have a glass pressed against the wall. Good luck."

Not doubting that for a second, Carrie collected her thoughts as she headed towards the double doors that Gregory had opened upon their arrival. For a moment she pictured the way he proudly emerged, practically preening as he puffed up his chest and bragged that he was the boss. Squaring her shoulders she courteously knocked on the door, but she didn't wait to hear an invitation before lowering the handle and pushing it open. Letting herself inside she gave a polite smile when she saw the white haired man seated at his desk, leaning back in his chair as he turned to look at her.

"Gregory?"

"Natalie, right?"

Making a note of this, Carrie feigned politeness before correcting him. "Carrie."

He gave a light hearted sigh, waving his hands a little. "That's pretty close," he said smoothly.

"Not really."

For a split second he seemed taken aback, surprised by what she had said, but he quickly went with it. "She calls them like she sees them," he declared as he got to his feet. "I like that. Come in. May I take your coat?"

She nodded, and as she turned her back to him she unzipped the front. "Thank you."

Well versed in social pleasantries he removed the coat from her shoulders and let it slip from her arms, and she readied herself to feel his hands brushing over her arms…but to her relief they didn't. From her peripheral vision she watched as he straightened the coat and then hung it on a stand with another that must belong to him. She waited for the perfect moment, and then she turned around just as he did. Just as she had hoped the reveal of her pregnancy threw him for a moment, making him blink at her a couple of times before managing to recover.

"Well," he laughed uncomfortably. "Here I thought you just had a big breakfast, but I see that some luc…" he trailed off for a moment, perhaps deciding against his initial train of thought. "I see that you're expecting. How lovely for you."

Though her warm smile didn't falter, Carrie turned from him and slowly made her way towards the sitting room. That had played out perfectly to plan. He was clearly uncomfortable by the surprise of having a heavily pregnant woman in his office, his smooth debonair demeanour having faltered just as she hoped it would. Now she was taking the lead, welcoming herself into a space that was so clearly defined at his own. Like the other rooms in Barrington House this was a testament to careful curation and caretaking, the decor grand and fitting for the time period. The upholstered chairs, the beautiful chestnut panelling, the trinkets and heritage books…Gregory had taken what existed here and made himself fit.

"I came to this place once, before, when it was a museum," he began, following Carrie into the sitting room. "Some chamber of commerce thing."

He was trying to take back the lead, to be the one determining how things went, and she opted not to resist it. Instead she allowed her gaze to turn on the painting that hung above the mantelpiece, admiring it. This seemed to be the right thing to do, for he came closer now and stood by her side now.

"I loved that painting. I never figured it would be mine," he said, trying to feign humility…though only for a moment. "Here it is," he said proudly. "Like it was waiting for me the whole time."

He turned to her as he said this, leaning just a fraction towards her. Looking at the painting for a moment longer she turned to him and looked him in the eye, smiling at him demurely. He seemed to like that too, and he held her gaze for a few moments before returning her smile. Under the impression this was going well he moved towards the sitting area, taking a seat slightly off centre in the two seater chair. He gestured to his left as invitation to take the seat beside him, expectant that she would. Silently applauding his self-confidence Carrie turned away and took a seat in the upholstered chair opposite him, settling back and crossing one leg over the other. There was a pause now, Gregory not acknowledging her rejection of his invitation.

"This place, what you have here," Carrie began in interest, wanting to get him talking. "Has it been here since the start?"

"That's right."

"And how is it you've survived here?"

"You're looking at how," he boasted, casually leaning against the side of the chair. "I'm good at this. And I don't get hung up on the details," he added. "Where you live. Is it as nice at the Hilltop Colony?"

She considered her answer, not wanting to give much away. Besides, he was the one who should do the bragging today. "It's just different."

"And how do you feed everyone? Jesus said you have a food store, but not much in it."

In that moment she mentally praised Olivia for always keeping the pantry shelves bare, for keeping their own residents in the dark about the shipping container that was abundant in food. Bare shelves deterred people from requesting more than their share. "We have crops. They're sufficient enough."

"You have guns. I assume you have a decent weapons cache."

"It's decent."

"And your Infirmary. Is it stocked?"

"Is yours?" she asked, leaning forward in the chair.

Still casually leaning against the side of the chair Gregory looked at her long and hard, and in an instant his demeanour changed. His efforts to be charismatic became smug instead, his features turning into a sneer of superiority.

"You see what I have here. You see what I've built. Jesus said that your food situation was _challenged_ right now," he added condescendingly. "You don't keep people fed, it comes apart. Let's speak the common tongue here, huh?"

He paused as he leaned forward, holding her gaze with a look of disdain. It was such a sharp contrast to his former demeanour that Carrie held her breath for a moment, but she let him continue. She could learn a lot from this.

"You don't have shit," he said unkindly, shaking his head at her. "No. I'm happy to help, I'm a nice guy…but we don't just give things away for free."

Liking the way this was going, Carrie held his gaze and then settled her hands on top of her belly as she listened. For a split second his gaze dropped, settling on her belly before moving up to her cleavage, and when he continued he lightened his tone just a little.

"How's this? Since you can't offer much, I'll let your people work here for their share. You'd be a welcome addition to the community, even with your… _blessing_. You're a smart, beautiful woman," he complimented as he held her gaze intently. "Getting back to that common tongue, I can tell you…I can make it worth your while."

Toying with him, Carrie leaned forward as she too held eye contact. She parted her lips as if to say something, but then settled on a demure smile, one that had worked well on him already. There was no doubt that she had his full attention, but she waited until the absolute last minute and then cut him off as he started to speak.

"I'd bet th-"

"You've got this all backwards, Gregory," she started. "So I'm going to stop you right there."

He blinked at her in surprise, not liking the sudden change. "Listen," he began condescendingly. "Honey, I-"

"Don't be coming on to me…don't be calling me Honey," she said firmly, sitting forward in her chair. "I don't need you. You're the one who needs me."

At this his expression soured, and he squared his shoulders and straightened up. As if there were others nearby he looked around questioningly. "How so?"

"You don't have any ammunition."

He feigned confusion. "Who said that?"

"You're low on medication. You need things…maybe my community can lend a helping hand."

It was at this final remark that he closed off completely, refusing the idea of receiving assistance. He was ignorantly proud, the idea of her helping him making him feel inferior. Not having the upper hand was unacceptable to him.

Restlessly tapping his hand against the book on the coffee table, Gregory abruptly stood to his feet. "Thank you Callie," he dismissed her. "It was a good talk."

Staying where she was, Carrie watched as he crossed the room and returned to his chair at the desk. When he saw her still sitting there he looked at her with a pointed expression, gesturing to the rack where her coat hung. Nevertheless she didn't rush, noting how unhappy he was to see that she was still there in his space, refusing to leave. Taking her time she slowly got up from the chair and made her way over, pleased with the way his eyes were automatically drawn to her belly. Her pregnancy made him uncomfortable, not that it had stopped him coming onto her a little.

"We can help each other," she said kindly.

"We're doing just fine."

"Are you?" With a deep breath she broached the most sensitive subject of the day. "I hear you're having some trouble with another group, and that you're not so good with confrontation."

He feigned ignorance, looking away from her. "I think you've been hearing some fairytales, Callie."

"I don't think so, Greg," she pressed, intentionally shortening his name. Invading his domain even more she made her way around the side of his desk until she was standing by his chair, bringing him almost face to face with her belly. Now she reached back with her hands and then pulled herself up onto his desk with a coy smile, swinging her legs before crossing one over the other. The combination of her muddy boots near his clean trousers and her belly in his face was making him highly uncomfortable, which was exactly what she wanted. "Come on now. Why don't you tell me all about it?"

Trying to be subtle about it, Gregory pushed his chair away just a fraction, and then he shook his head. "I wouldn't put much stock in what Jesus tells you. He's very…exuberant at times."

"Alright then, here's what I've heard," she started, taking lead of the conversation now. "As soon as your walls went up, Negan's merry group of soldiers paid you a visit, and they wanted to have a little talk with you. They said some things…you said some things. Maybe you puffed up your chest and told them where to go. So they killed one of your people…Ryan."

Stopping here, she waited to see if Gregory would correct the name of the boy who had died, and when he didn't she couldn't help but wonder if he even noticed she got it wrong. For all intents and purposes he seemed to be ignoring what she said, his gaze firmly trained on his lamp, while his left hand rested on the desk. He was strumming his fingers against the hardwood, trying to appear indifferent.

"They killed one of you…more of you since then. And you give them everything. How does the colony feel about that?"

As she suspected, he finally spoke up at the mere hint she was questioning his place as an admired and respected man. "That's not the case at all."

"Then what is the case?"

"I'm handling it." He looked up at her with a smug expression. "Negan and I have an arrangement that benefits both parties."

"An arrangement?"

"Yes," he said as if it was obvious. "One _I_ negotiated with him. It's all taken care of," he assured her…and then he patted her on the knee.

Narrowing her eyes, Carrie looked down at his hand on her knee, the hand that had no place touching her. While another time a strange man putting his hand on her knee would have made her feel uncomfortable, today it aroused a different kind of emotion…anger. Gregory had just a costly mistake, one that he stood no chance of recovering from even when he took his hand back and looked up at her expectantly. She wasn't going to play nice any more.

"Oh, hard boiled candy," she said sweetly, looking at the decorative jar on his desk. "May I?"

There was no way he could deny her request, not when she was smiling so sweetly and reaching for it already. "You know, my Grandpa used to keep hard boiled candy on his desk too, in a Lalique crystal dish." She picked up the decorative jar and looked it over, and then tapped the side with her fingernail. "That's very pretty glass. Or is it acrylic?"

Not knowing what else to say or do, Gregory just played along. He forced a smile and nodded his head, his lips parting as if he was going to say something, but then gave up. Carrie on the other hand was perfectly in her element. Removing the lid she slipped her hand inside and then rudely rifled through the candies until she reached one at the very bottom.

"Mmm," she moaned when she slipped the candy into her mouth. "My Grandpa's were peppermint too."

Increasingly unhappy, Gregory looked away from her all together. It was clear what she was doing, that she was going out of her way to knock him down a couple of pegs. "I've not heard of many bullies who come to an arrangement with the people they're stealin' lunch money from," she commented, sucking on the candy as she spoke.

There was a heavy pause before Gregory spoke, and his renewed disdain for her was clear in his tone. "Well, clearly things are different with _me_ ," he said proudly.

"I heard things are getting worse. That your last tribute to them was a little light."

"Did you now?"

"Yes. I also heard your people are the ones who paid the price for it."

"As did I," he said emphatically, raising his head to look at her. "I shared their pain. Literally."

"Oh yes, I heard about your mortal wound," she said in exaggeration, using her boot to nudge the part of his chair nearest his stomach wound. "But you're handling it. I bet they have complete confidence in you."

"They do," he agreed.

"You're just perfect for them, aren't you."

"Well…some of us are natural born leaders," he boasted, leaning back in his chair. Using his hands for emphasis he continued. "My people trust me. Admire me, even. I've done wonders for this place."

"I wasn't talking about your people," she said sweetly, still sucking on the hard boiled candy. "I was talking about the Saviours. You're perfect for them. You listen, you do as you're told. You…what's the term I'm looking for? Roll over."

A low breath escaped Gregory's nose, and he glared at her. "What are you trying to get at, dear?"

"I know what's going on here. Negan's expecting more supplies from this place. And more…and more. If it keeps going like that, pretty soon you won't have anything left, and what happens then?"

"It will not come to that."

"What's half of nothing?"

"Now, just-"

"Without ammo, without fighters…you'd be a dead man." At this she slipped the candy between her teeth, keeping her lips parted as she crunched down on it. The sound made Gregory shift uncomfortably in his seat, telling her she had struck at nerve.

"Negan and I have a mutually beneficial relationship. It's in his best interests that my people keep producing, _not_ that he wipe us all out."

"Let's be frank with one another," she said, softening her tone a little. "Why haven't you tried to fight them?"

Giving a heavy sigh, Gregory pushed his chair back and then got to his feet. "I am not a fool, Terri. I negotiated the best possible deal for my people. Not that it is any business of yours," he snarled. "Now if you don't mind, there's the door!"

Though his patience was waning and his temper flaring, Carrie stayed exactly where she was. "Why haven't you tried to fight them?"

He ignored the question, instead marching past her and removing her coat from the rack. "It was lovely to meet you."

"Is it you who doesn't want to fight, or the people here?" When he brandished her coat towards her she ignored him. "I'm not leaving until you answer my question. Who is it? You, or the people here?"

His eyes narrowed Gregory advanced towards her, lowering his voice significantly. "Have you met the people here? Any of them?"

"Briefly," she stated. "They seemed capable of defending themselves."

"With what?" he questioned angrily. "With all of our guns? Our ammunition?"

"I can provide the weapons you need."

"I don't need anything from you!" he shouted at her now. "I'm the one who negotiated peace with the Saviours! I'm the one who keeps this place running! Me, not you!"

Carrie allowed a brief moment of silence to elapse, wanting him to take a moment to collect himself. "If we were to provide you with the weapons you need, would you be willing to fight the Saviours with us?"

Finally Gregory seemed to have had enough, and he thrust her coat towards her and then turned away. "If you don't mind," he said tersely, seizing the door and wrenching it open. "I'd like you to leave."

Through the open door she could see the rest of her group waiting outside, their curious faces peering in and frowning when they saw her perched on Gregory's desk. A moment later Rick moved into her line of sight, and she knew that he had been listening to the whole conversation. They had a lot to talk about now. She looked at Gregory a moment longer and then heeded his request, knowing when to stop pushing things. The waters had already been muddied, not that it was ever going to go differently. Sliding off his desk she took her time to straighten her coat and then slip it over her shoulders, but before she left she turned back to his desk. Opening the lid she reached into the glass jar and took another hard boiled candy, slipping between her lips with a sweet smile.

He glared at her a moment longer, but then forced a smile that clearly told her to get the fuck out. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Terri."

"It's Carrie," she corrected him, not returning the compliment. "And my offer stands. I hope you'll change your mind."

Leaving it at that she stepped out of his office, rejoining her awaiting group who were now picking up their weapons and preparing to leave. She shared a quick glance with Rick who seemed generally satisfied with what he overheard, and then she glanced to Lana. But though things had been admittedly cool between them lately, today Lana gave no indication that she had even looked at her, let alone been privy to the conversation she and Gregory just had. Instead she turned away and looked up the staircase to the first floor, admiring the beautiful interior.

"We'll be sure to help get your vehicle unstuck from the mud," Gregory said, addressing Rick as he ushered the group towards the front doors. "That way your can start your journey home without delay."

"Thank you for your hospitality," Rick said cooly, getting the hint. "I'm sure we'll meet again."

Without another word they began to leave, Jesus leading the way as they made their way out of the house and across the colony grounds towards the large and imposing gate. As they walked Carrie tried to look around at the Hilltop residents, noting that many of them were hard at work with various tasks even as they looked at the strangers in curiosity. Quickly she found that her group were flanking her, protectively herding her into the middle with them around her, and although these days she didn't resent their efforts to protect her, it was annoying right now. It was difficult for her to observe the Hilltop residents, to make any presumption as to whether or not they were capable of fighting a larger and more well equipped group. Gregory didn't seem to have much faith in their capabilities, though more likely it was himself that he doubted.

When they made their way through the gates and back into the world outside, Carrie made sure to fall into step alongside Rick. Getting his attention she brushed her hand against his, waiting until he looked around at her before speaking her mind.

"If we want the Hilltop to fight with us, we'll need to get rid of Gregory."

* * *

A/N Hi all

Just like with many other story lines, we are once again deviating from the TV show (ie no slaughter at the satellite station), but I promise it's going to be great! I hope you enjoyed the Carrie vs Gregory, and please leave a review!


	34. Chapter 34

Thursday, February 5

The world outside the car was quiet and peaceful, the normally depressing sight of their abandoned capital made bearable by the light dusting of snow they were getting. It felt strangely tranquil, even the sight of the Walkers stumbling by with their head and shoulders dusted with white. Rick couldn't remember how many years it had been since he had seen the snow, but it had to be easily more than a decade. Carl had never seen it in his life, and when they awoke yesterday to falling snow flakes he had been giddy with excitement, as had Carrie. Together they lay out on the road, two fools, laying there catching snow flakes on their tongues freezing their asses off.

He wished he could be at home with them that day…that he could be home every day. But the world didn't work like that anymore, especially now. Today while his family were at home drinking hot cocoa and trying to guess what Tara had planned for the baby shower, Rick was out on the road again, doing what he could to keep the community safe. Today they were back in the city, keeping their prearranged appointment with the Kingdom. Two weeks had passed since he and Carl left the Kingdom, two weeks since they had met Jesus and travelled to the Hilltop, that time having allowed them much opportunity to think on things.

In Alexandria things were falling into place. Already there was community sentiment for the notion of helping the Kingdom in war, the residents appreciative of what the community had provided for them. Carl's medical treatment and their trade relationship notwithstanding, many of them had met Brea and Colton when they visited following Spencer's death, and some like Anna and Tobin had visited the Kingdom when they first ventured there. The hearts of Alexandria were with the Kingdom, and slowly they were coming around to the idea that they had to go to war in order to protect themselves. The Saviours had them scared, and thankfully only few were naive enough to believe they could protect themselves by hiding. The Wolves had shown them the devastation they would face again when they were inevitably found.

Despite Rick's growing confidence in the alliance between Alexandria, the Kingdom and the Hilltop, there were preventative measures that needed to be taken in the mean time. Alexandria needed to prepare for the worst case scenario that something terrible happened, that the Saviour's found them before they had the opportunity to make the first move. If that happened, Rick knew they wouldn't have the leverage to negotiate the same kind of deal that Ezekiel had been able to. The Saviour's had compromised so that the Kingdom didn't rise up against them, but since then they had only become increasingly stronger. Alexandria was smaller, much less of a threat and therefore posing no reason to negotiate. If things went bad, the Saviours would come into Alexandria and wreak havoc on their home, taking and destroying whatever they pleased…given it's size that would include their armoury too.

With this in mind, Olivia and Carrie had already started falsifying their records. Their record keeping was impeccable with both written and digital copies of their food, general supplies and armoury, but that had to come to an end. Whatever records they kept needed to show less than a quarter of what they had, while all excess needed to be moved out of Alexandria and safely stored elsewhere. As if they were burying treasure for safe keeping their Pantry and shipping container had been almost emptied, vehicles loaded up with the supplies before being taken away. It was kept close enough for them to access should they need it, but far away enough to keep it hidden. Left behind was enough food and supplies to last them three months, a length of time that Rick hoped was more than adequate to cover any potential war that might break out.

The only supplies not completely taken away from Alexandria were their weapons and ammunition, for although some of that too had been taken off site for safe storage, much of it had been left a little closer to home. One way or another Alexandria needed access to their weapons, whether it was for defending themselves should they come under attack, or being the ones who struck first. Carefully stored in heavy duty boxes that would keep out moisture, much of their weapons and ammunition had been buried in the woods, hidden in the disgusting mass graves that belonged to the Walkers, or the gardens where the dirt was already upturned. Should things go wrong and the Saviours took their weapons cache just as they had done to the Hilltop, it wouldn't be everything.

As Rick sat there in the car waiting, it was tempting for him to lower the window, to put his hand outside to feel the snow falling onto his skin. So far it was only light, most of it melting the moment it touched the ground, but since it started yesterday it had begun building up. Nevertheless he kept his hands safely inside the vehicle, not needing to remind himself that he wasn't built for the cold. A hot, sticky Georgia summer he could handle, but not the cold…not snow. Feeling the same, Glenn and Lana had both been highly agreeable when it was suggested they wait in their cars rather than out in the elements.

Starting to feel a little impatient, though it wasn't unusual for one of their parties to be late to their meetings, Rick glanced into the rear vision mirror to Lana and Glenn in the back. They too were waiting quietly, and Glenn looked as though he was struggling to stay awake, his eye lids growing heavier with each passing minute. Wondering how many hours little Herschel had allowed his parents to sleep last night he turned his attention to Lana, studying her demeanour.

In recent months Lana hadn't been making any kind of fuss, instead keeping her head down as much as she could. She went about her various responsibilities without comment or complaint, simply doing as she was asked and getting on with things. Dramas like arguments with Carrie had died down now, and if she and Daryl were still sleeping together, they were both keeping quiet about it.

Though they had always anticipated this coming up again, overhearing on the surveillance that Lana's group were preparing to flee Alexandria had come as quite the blow. They hadn't taken well to the news that the Saviours were looking for Alexandria, and had been even less enthused by the notion of going to way than the rest of the community. From the day Rick and his group returned from the Hilltop Lana and Vetor had closed ranks, apparently setting aside their falling out for the time being. It seemed they wanted no part in this fight, that even after living in Alexandria for months they had no loyalty to the community that had taken them in.

In no time at all they had started making plans, and though it was Vetor who insisted on their departure, as usual Lana stood little chance of changing his mind. In spite of this Rick hoped there might be time for her to have a change of heart, which was why he had made such a point of keeping her involved in the preparations. He didn't want her to leave the community. For a long time he had felt a sense of responsibility to her, sympathising with how she had spent years under Vetor's manipulation. But now it had become more than just that, than a sense of responsibility. If their group was to leave, Alexandria would be losing highly capable fighters…Vetor included.

Vetor had been less of a thorn of late, for like Lana he seemed to be keeping to himself these days, particularly after his unfortunate accident on the construction crew. He'd not been the same since, having complained to Denise of migraines and double vision, his suspected skull fracture still tender and swollen. Since it happened he'd been sporting quite the bruise on his head, one that extended across half his forehead and eye, and only now did it seem to be receding. Despite his symptoms none of them had made the suggestion of taking him to the Kingdom for a second opinion, people like Rick simply hoping he would have the decency to keel over. Though they had no evidence he had anything to do with Spencer's death, the motive and insinuation was enough to sour opinions.

When he'd first learned they were making plans to flee Alexandria, a part of Rick was relieved. The problem was taking care of itself…if he had any chance of convincing Lana to stay then he was going to make the effort, but the sooner Vetor was gone the better. By now he didn't even care if they followed through on his plan to steal from the armoury and do a runner in the middle of the night. If it meant getting rid of Vetor once and for all, on his terms, then Rick was willing to let them go.

The smallest change in their surroundings would catch their attention, and today was no different. Though they were far away they noticed the arrival of the Kingdomers almost immediately, catching a glimpse of them through the trees that bordered where they had parked the cars on Constitution Avenue. Without hesitation they stepped out of their cars, Rick casting his eye over each of the group member and keeping count of who was there. Despite the Saviours lingering in the back of their minds they knew that they were safe today. The Saviours didn't come into the city anymore, meaning that they were safer here out in the open than they were at home. That in itself was food for thought.

In no time at all both groups had arrived at their usual place, yet unlike any other time they had met up to trade supplies, today they were relieved to see one another. These days the stakes were higher, making it all the more likely that some day soon one of their groups would not make it to a meeting.

"How's Carl," Richard enquired straight away, genuinely concerned. "I take it there have been no problems?"

"He's doing well, thank you," Rick answered, removing a polaroid from the pouch on his duty belt. "Mak and Brea wanted a picture."

"He's keeping the bandage off?" Alvaro asked. "They asked me to make sure."

"It stays off at home, but he's been putting it back on when he goes out. It's a slow process," he concluded, knowing that the doctors would be understanding.

"Jesus came by the other day," Richard commented, the hint of a smile playing on his face. "He told us he went to Alexandria, that the two of you met."

At this Rick scoffed under his breath, not feeling their first meeting had been so straight forward. The others too seemed to laugh a little, sharing his thoughts. "That's one way to put it."

"He's a slippery guy, isn't he," Richard joked, though he quickly sobered. "I hear he took you to the Hilltop. What did you think?"

"What did we think about the Hilltop, or Gregory? Because we had some mixed feelings about them."

"How's his spine?" Diane asked bluntly, apparently sharing none of their light hearted amusement today.

"He's still looking for it. Not that I completely blame him," he acknowledged, thinking about what they currently did and did not have at their disposal. "Personal feelings aside, their situation there is more delicate than the Kingdom's. They didn't quite get the same deal you did."

He too acknowledging this, Richard nodded. "The Hilltop are smaller, less of a threat if they were to rebel. They Saviours have more power over them."

"That's half the problem with the way this works," Colton added. "Every tribute, we're making them stronger and ourselves weaker. By now, they're strong enough to completely destroy Alexandria just because they felt like it."

There was a heavy pause now, each group acknowledging the magnitude of what had been said, of what they were both facing.

"We understand what we're up against," Abraham said darkly. "We already left a group of them in pieces and puddles."

"That group was just the tip of the iceberg," Colton continued vehemently, wanting to make them understand. "More of them would have come after that, they would have…"

He trailed off when Richard turned around and looked at him, a simple hand gesture telling him that it was enough, that the Alexandrian's understood what they were up against. There was another pause as he turned back to Rick's group now, and even as they waited he knew what Richard was going to ask.

"Have you given any more thought to what I asked? Will you fight with us?"

Rick shifted the weight between his feet, conscious that his people had not yet been fully consulted on this. "I think we both know that you're not ready to fight the Saviours. You don't have Ezekiel on board, and your people don't know there's even someone worth fighting. It's the same problem with the Hilltop, just for different reasons."

"If I get the Kingdom ready, if we-"

"Ezekiel?" Rick cut him off, going straight to the main road block.

Richard nodded. "If I get Ezekiel on board, will you fight with us?"

"Not without the Hilltop too. They may be small, but they have people who can fight. We need everyone on board."

It was at this that Richard seemed to frustrate. "We can do it without them."

"If we don't have them on board, we risk throwing them under a bus," Michonne said, speaking for the first time today. "The Saviours could retaliate against them, or they could give us away. We need them on board and ready before we do anything."

Dissatisfied, Richard took a breath and then turned to Dianne and Colton, looking at them for a moment. When he turned back to Rick his manner was rather straight forward. "The only way we can get the Hilltop on board is to get rid of Gregory."

Raising his eyebrows, Rick looped his thumb around his duty belt and peered at Richard for a moment, scrutinising him closely. "That was our thought exactly," he replied, not filtering his words. His group had talked about this extensively, the notion first raised by Carrie. "Whether his people overthrow him, or we do something about it, it doesn't matter. We need someone else in charge of the Kingdom."

"Do you think the residents will overthrow him?" Richard wondered, trying to gauge their thoughts. "Arrogance aside, he is their leader."

"I think they could be swayed. Some of them have already tried to take him out."

Wincing, Richard nodded in agreement. "Jesus told us what happened with Ethan. Things are escalating with the Saviours, it's the same story as what's happening at the Kingdom."

"How so?" Michonne asked.

"Gregory has managed to maintain peace, but the Saviours are adding pressure to both groups. They take more, say that our tribute is light, change the schedule."

"This is good in the long run," Dianne added. "It's more incentive for Hilltop to get rid of Gregory and fight."

When silence fell and Rick was not forthcoming with an agreement, Richard stepped forward and looked him in the eye. "Rick…will Alexandria fight with us, or not?"

Taking a moment's pause he mulled over the answer in his head. He knew already what he needed to say, that even though the people of Alexandria had really only been consulted once there was only one solution, war. It was inevitable they become involved, it was better they do so on their own terms rather then be forced into it by circumstances. Alexandria would eventually come to the same conclusion one way or another. Still, Rick was cautious with what he said.

"We're not rushing in to anything," he began, choosing his words carefully. "You need to get Ezekiel and the Kingdom on board before we help you make any kind of tactical move."

"Agreed. I'm working on Ezekiel…I'm waiting for the right time."

"We also need to do something about Gregory before I commit Alexandria. We need to get rid of him, and make sure the Hilltop have the weapons they need to fight."

"We'll take care of Gregory too," Richard assured him, this notion supported by Dianne and Colton. "Whatever needs to happen, we'll make it happen. As for their weapons cache, if the Kingdom and Alexandria both give them a little, neither of us has to give a lot."

Rick nodded in agreement. "I'm bringing Carl to the Kingdom for his checkup in two weeks. Let's revisit then," he suggested. "Get everything in order.

"Bring whatever weapons you can spare for the Kingdom, I'll make sure they receive them. We'll take care of everything."

"Does this mean Alexandria's on board?" Dianne asked, stepping forward, She looked at each of them before finally settling her gaze on Rick. "Rick?"

Though he had hoped to avoid this, it seemed they weren't going to let him get away without making a commitment. Thinking on what had been discussed he turned and looked at his people to gauge their thoughts, even though he already knew exactly what they would want him to say. It didn't matter that they didn't have the explicit consent of the Alexandrian's, that was something they would slowly come around to. But certain people had discussed this at great length, had already come to a unanimous agreement.

"When Ezekiel and the Hilltop are ready to fight, and only then…we're in."

"You're in?" Richard clarified, hope glimmering in his eyes.

"When those conditions are met, yes."

"And if something happens in the meantime?" he asked now. "If the Saviours turn on us, and we need your help?"

"We will help you," he promised. "But Richard…don't _make_ something happen. Be patient. Get everything in order, and when the time is right we will make a move together."

Listening and agreeing, Richard nodded his head and then came forward. He extended his hand towards Rick. "We have an agreement. Allies."

Confident that Richard would hold his nerve and go about this the right way, Rick didn't hesitate. With the support of his closet group and the growing support of the community he led, he shook Richard's hand to formalise their agreement. For now Alexandria would wait for Ezekiel and the Hilltop to be ready, and when the time was right they would prepare a move against the Saviours, something that would take out as many as possible and weaken any efforts to respond in kind. If they got this right, it could be over as quickly as it began.

* * *

Saturday, February 14

The voices were muffled, barely distinguishable from one another, forcing Rick to wait in frustration. In front of him Sasha gave him a short nod, reassuring him that the reason she had called him down from his shift early was coming, that she wasn't wasting his time. It was in her and Abraham's living room that he sat, listening through headphones to the surveillance recording they had on Lana and Vetor's townhouse. This wouldn't be the first argument they had overheard between the two, they fought tooth and nail even on their good days, but admittedly this was the first argument they'd heard in some time.

His patience was rewarded, and with the sound of footsteps the voices became clearer. Glancing at the laptop he noted that this was from the bug in the upstairs hallway, just outside Lana and Vetor's respective bedrooms.

"We can't do this," Lana was desperately pleading. "Rick would never forgive us."

"You think I care for him?" Vetor questioned impatiently, sounding like he had tired of this conversation. "I care not for how he thinks of us. He is nothing."

"He's not!" she insisted, her voice strained with emotion. "You want to burn every bridge we have, just like you always do. If we just tell hi-"

"We're telling him nothing!" Vetor suddenly shouted. "None of them! You know they tried to kill me. Look…look at what they did to me."

There was a long pause, and Rick could imagine Lana standing there with her arms folded across her chest, staring him down.

"Can you really blame them? They know what you did."

The sound of something smashing made Rick jolt, his concern growing. "I did nothing! They have your mind twisted. All of them with their tricks, making you mistrust me."

"We can tell Rick we're leaving," Lana pleaded. "He'll give us food, weapons, a car. Whatever we ask for he'll give it to us, I know he will."

"No," Vetor shouted again, a loud thud indicating he had slammed his hand against something. "I provide for us, not him!"

"We'll never be able to come back here!" Lana tried to appeal, begging him to hear her out. "It will be just like last time."

Increasingly frustrated with her refusal, Vetor's voice became darker as the conversation progressed. "I told you to stop bringing that up," he said lowly. "We did what we had to do."

"I…please Vetor. I just need a little more time. Just one more week, please."

To Rick's annoyance their voices started to fade as Vetor replied to this, replaced by heavy footsteps and then the sound of a door slamming. From there he heard only the occasional raised voice, but in no way could he possibly distinguish what was being said.

"That was barely thirty seconds. Where's the rest of this conversation?" he asked, removing the headphones and looking to Sasha and Abraham who were waiting expectantly.

"We couldn't hear anything else." she apologised. "But it was enough to make worried."

"I did a walk by a few minutes ago," Abraham added. "Everything's quiet there. It looks like Lana's gone home."

"Home where?"

"She's been staying with Carol and Tobin since Christmas." Frowning, Abraham turned to Sasha. "You didn't tell him?"

"I told you to tell him."

"I don't recall that conversation."

"Well it's not like I could write you a note on the refrigerator, but I definitely told you to tell him."

Impatient, Rick stopped them before they carried on much longer. "Why haven't we got bugs in their bedrooms?"

At this Sasha and Abraham turned back to him, apparently surprised by his question. "Because when we decided to spy on our own people, you said we had to draw a line in the sand," Sasha answered. "The bedroom was that line."

Wishing he hadn't drawn that particular line, Rick strummed his fingers against his knee and then listened to the recording a second time, a few things said making him feel confused. "Did you understand what Lana meant?" he asked them, knowing they listened to their mundane, every day conversation as much as possible. "She said something about _last time_."

Sasha shrugged. "We're catching snippets of conversation here and there, it's hard to keep up with the subtext. They've been arguing like this since last night. She wants to stay a little longer, do the right thing by us…he wants to leave."

"We should confront them," Abraham said boldly, unsympathetic to Lana's difficult position. "Tell them to take a hike up shit creek in a leaky boat if that's what they want."

"No," Rick shook his head.

There was a long pause now, and in his peripheral he could see Abraham and Sasha looking back and forth between him and one another. "So…" Sasha began uncertainly. "What _will_ we do?"

Still considering this, Rick thoughtfully considered the options. He'd been thinking this through for weeks now, Lana and Vetor occupying his thoughts almost as much as preparing for the Saviours. One way or another, this situation had to come to an end…even if Rick was unhappy with the way things turned out.

"If they try to run…let them." He took a deep breath, conscious of the magnitude of his instructions. "As long as they're not hurting anybody, let them go."

"Let them take our shit?" Abraham questioned, dissatisfied with his decision. "Might as well bend over and let them go balls deep."

"I don't want her stuck out there with nothing," he said, emphasising his words. "Lana, Mina, Mitchell…they don't deserve that. We've got enough to spare, and it's better than them trying to steal what we've hidden in the woods."

"They don't know where our shit is," Abraham reminded him, still dissatisfied. "For this very fucking reason."

Rick stood his ground with a shake of his head. He wanted this to be over and done with, to rip the band aid off so to speak. "If they want to go, let them go. Lana too."

There was a pause now, Abraham and Sasha looking at one another as they mulled this over, needing to come to their own mind.

"If they're going to make a run for it they'll do it at night," Abraham mused.

Agreeing, Rick nodded. "It'll be when at least two of them have watch scheduled, that way they can slip away unnoticed." He turned to Sasha. "What's the watch schedule like? Any nights where two of them have a shift at the same time?"

Fetching the small white board on which they kept their schedule, Sasha consulted the various names and times. "No, nothing like that. They might do a last minute swap…it will be Mitchell if that happens. He likes the night shifts."

"Leave a set of car keys out in the pantry," Rick requested, getting to his feet to leave. "Give them the old Chevy so they don't take one of the good cars."

"Shall I gas it up too?" Abraham questioned, trying to make a point.

Pausing at the front door, Rick looked at him over his shoulder. He understood and shared his lack of concern for Vetor, but for the others? Having been in charge of their surveillance Abraham had perhaps the deepest insight into what Lana had faced, into her struggle to do the right thing against the will of someone she hopelessly loved.

"Yeah. Gas it up for them."

Leaving that with them, Rick let things be and got on with his day, knowing he had a lot of elements to divide his time and attention between. He had been on watch for the better part of the day now, and though technically he still had another hour until the end of his shift his absence had been covered. There was no point in returning now, and so he opted to call it a day and head home instead. Even then his day wasn't over, there wasn't time to kick back and relax, not that he did that at all these days.

Carrie was about to enter her thirty sixth week of pregnancy, and in one short month she had gone from glowing and enjoying her pregnancy to a sweaty, hot mess. Everything had been going smoothly for so long, Carrie happy and joyful even in the midst of everything going on with the Saviours and their trip to the Hilltop. In the days that followed since that trip Rick made a point of trying to settle things down at home, to make sure Carrie and Carl didn't feel too much of the pressure others were.

A few days ago Tara had thrown her an elaborate baby shower that lasted all afternoon and well into the evening. There was food, cake, games, presents, karaoke and a movie of Carrie's choice, almost everyone who wasn't on watch stopping by the church and having a uproariously good time. When he too made an appearance to unwrap the presents, he truly thought that the sight of his pregnant and glowing wife was going to be the case for the remaining duration. She looked happy and care free, thoroughly enjoying her pregnancy…until the next morning.

Perhaps it was a jinx, or perhaps she had overdone it with the excitement of the baby shower, but when Carrie awoke the next morning it was as if her body finally realised that being pregnant was rather uncomfortable. A persistent back ache saw her becoming increasingly short tempered and cranky, and while her belly seemed to grow overnight so too did the discomfort of doing simple things. She now walked with a pronounced waddle that Rick found endearing, but not when it was combined with swollen ankles and difficulty getting up from the couch. With her cranky and impatient about everything, Rick found himself occasionally tip toeing around so as to not invite the ire of his pregnant wife. Carl on the other hand was a little less sensitive, for although he fussed over her when she asked for a drink or help doing the laundry, he didn't quite yet know when to shut up.

"So are you just wearing yoga pants forever now?" he joked to her over breakfast that morning.

Sinking into her seat at the dining table, Carrie narrowed her eyes at him, her expression making Rick hold his breath. "Do you have a problem with what I'm wearing?"

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Carl gaped at her for a moment. "N-no…I just meant that…" he stammered, glancing at Rick for help.

"Yoga pants are all that fits me right now," she said softly.

"And I was going to get you some more from the pantry," he said very quickly. "You know…so that you can chose different colours."

Noting that Carrie was letting it go, Rick released the breath he held and then caught his son's eye. _Nice save, son_ _._

"Oh for fuck's sake," Carrie moaned. With a heavy sigh she turned and looked into the kitchen. "I forgot to bring my breakfast over."

Seeing her bowl of cereal forgotten on the kitchen counter, Carl burst to his feet. "I'll get it."

Surprised, she blinked as her body language softened. "Thanks, Carl," she smiled, looking genuinely touched by his gesture.

When he set her bowl of cereal and strawberries down in front of her she seemed to forget his earlier comment, her demeanour shifting again as she started to eat. But moments later she was on the hunt again, her eyes shifting towards Rick before settling on his cup of coffee. Knowing what she wanted, he turned the handle to face her and pushed it across the table.

"Thanks," she said sweetly, taking it. "Just a sip, that's all."

 _Ah huh. Just a sip my ass._

Having long ago learnt when to hold his tongue and when to present her with a hot drink, Rick was coming through all this relatively unscathed, though he did enjoy watching as Carl learnt the hard way what not to do.

Making it home he stopped before going inside, taking off his wet boots and damp coat lest he track it all through the house. Though she wasn't normally a neat freak, lately Carrie had taken to cleaning compulsively, trying to keep herself occupied now that the weather had taken an unexpected turn. It was Valentines Day, and he didn't want to give her somewhat footprints clean and obsess over. Aside from the shaky start at breakfast their day had been just fine. He brought her chocolates in lieu of flowers, and she had pulled down her shirt and let him cop a feel…that was as romantic as it was going to get given he'd been out all day.

"How's everything out there?" Carrie called out from the couch.

"Just fine," he answered, the same response he gave her every time he returned from checking on the world outside their walls. Not only did he not want to worry her, there was no reason for him to answer differently. Things were fine, the surroundings quiet and undisturbed.

"Are you ready to see Denise?" she asked, using the back of the couch to pull herself upright. "She's expecting us whenever."

"I could use a shower first," he apologised, his stomach growling as he headed into the kitchen. Famished, he lifted the lid on the cake stand and selected a chocolate cupcake, but as he peeled back the paper case and took a bite he frowned. Carrie had made these this morning, slathering twelve cupcakes with chocolate frosting and an edible pink love heart…there were now three left.

"Did we have people over?" he asked with a mouthful of cake.

"Glenn came by, he needed laundry detergent. Why?"

"What happened to all the cupcakes?"

As soon as the words left his mouth the answer came to him, his conclusion supported by the way Carrie averted her eyes and then slowly lay back down onto the couch. "I don't know."

"Ahh," he said, seeing her embarrassment. "Must have been Carl."

Finishing the rest of it in one bite, Rick made his way upstairs and got cleaned up, enjoying a hot shower after being out in the cold for the last few hours. Though he wished it wasn't, the next five days were perhaps his last opportunity to spend time at home with his family, for very soon things were going to start getting critical on all fronts. Carl needed to go back to the Kingdom for his one month check up, a final review that would assure them the graft had healed well and was no longer a risk for infection. Rick, Richard and Jesus would be meeting there to review the current situation in each of the community, to supply the Hilltop with weapons and bring up the notion of war with Ezekiel. And when he returned home that day, Brea would be coming with him, having agreed to relocate for a couple of months to oversee the delivery of the baby. Although Denise had managed well during Herschel's birth, they were all eager to have another more experienced doctor on hand. It was a reassurance to both Carrie and Rick, with him having only just realised that although he was a father of two, this was his first child not being born by caesarian. He had as much experience in labour and child birth as Carrie did, and that was the cold hard slap of reality he didn't need.

This kind of worry was beginning to compound as the pregnancy drew closer to its end, particularly with the spectre of the Saviour's hanging over their heads. The last thing they needed was to be juggling a potential war and the birth of his child. He couldn't decide if he was more eager for the pregnancy to be over so they could avoid complications should things go wrong with the Saviours, or if he wanted her to remain pregnant for as long as possible so they didn't have a newborn on their hands. What was harder? Protecting a heavily pregnant woman, or a new mother and newborn?

"You ready to go?" Rick asked when he came back downstairs. Still famished he veered into the kitchen to find something to eat. "Bathroom?"

"Nah, I'm ready," she confirmed, eagerly hauling herself up from the couch. "Judy and I just need our shoes and coats."

 _So you're not ready_ _._ Wisely he chose to keep this thought to himself, and instead abandoned his search for something to eat and looked for Judith's coat and shoes. She hated putting these on, and just as he expected the moment she saw them she screwed up her face in disdain, already backing away and rushing back into the living room. Seeking patience he chased her down and somehow convinced her to put it all on, not that she made it easy for him.

"Passive resistance, huh?" he questioned when she intentionally went limp, looking up at him in defiance. "Keep that up. Makes it easier to put the handcuffs on."

Hearing his lightheaded tone Judith managed to crack a smile, laughing despite his success in wrangling her coat and shoes on. As he fastened her shoe laces he wondered what they were going to have for dinner that evening, for by the end of the week their rations were usually looking tight, even on Valentines day. He wasn't used to thinking this way recently, to wonder what he was going to provide his children to eat. But now with the prospect of war over their shoulders and half their food rations buried miles away, that type of thing was on his mind again.

"Hang on," Carrie said with a great sigh, turning and heading back into the house just as they were leaving.

He didn't need to ask where she was going. "You said you didn't need to go."

"I didn't then, but now I do!"

Figuring it best not to bother her, Rick kept his mouth shut as he headed outside to wait for her. With Judith on his hip he waited patiently, reminding himself not to bother his pregnant and uncomfortable wife.

"God, I feel like such a whale," she moaned a few minutes later when she waddled down the front steps, hanging onto the railing for balance.

"Sweetheart, you're pregnant," he tried to soothe her, taking her hand as they set off towards the Infirmary.

" _Sweetheart, you're not a whale_ would have been a more appropriate response," she muttered darkly.

"Alright, I see that now."

There was a pause, and still she didn't look satisfied. "You still haven't said it."

"Sweetheart, you're not a-"

"Don't bother," she bluntly cut him off. "You're just saying it because I told you to."

Taking a deep breath, Rick entwined their fingers and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "So we've reached that stage of the pregnancy, huh?"

"What stage?"

"The stage where nothing I say or do is the right thing. As long as I know that's where we're at, we'll be fine."

At this she seemed to soften, realising how irritable she was being. Readjusting her hand in his, she moved a little closer to him as they slowly made their way towards the Infirmary. Their shoes crunched over what was left of the snow, while on the road ahead of them Carl and Enid were tirelessly collecting snow and pooling it together. Despite their efforts to make snow angels there simply wasn't enough that hadn't already turned to slush, so Rick didn't feel too apologetic to interrupt them.

"Carl. I need you to take your sister."

Brushing the snow off his hands he looked at Rick with indignation. "Right now? Enid and I are hanging out."

"That's a lovely shade of lipgloss you're wearing," Carrie complimented, nudging him with her elbow. "Isn't it the same as Enid's?"

Flushing pink with embarrassment, Carl averted his face and used his sleeve to wipe his mouth. Taken aback by the sudden revelation, Rick looked at his son in both surprise and pride…he and Enid had been making out? Now that Carrie had mentioned it Carl's lips did indeed look a little red and swollen, too much so to attribute it to the cold weather. Making a mental note to ensure the bedroom door stayed open when Enid was visited Rick figured he ought to mention this to Glenn and Maggie, to ensure they enforced the same standards when Carl was visiting their house.

"Take your sister," he repeated, setting her down onto the ground and directing her towards the snow. As he did so he gestured for Carrie to go on ahead, wanting a moment alone with Carl. While Judith tentatively leant down to touch the snow, not that this was her first time seeing it, Rick straightened up and looked Carl in the eye, trying not to sound like he was scolding him.

"You and Enid, huh?"

"I guess so," he answered, making a point of avoiding eye contact.

Looking towards the end of the street he noted that Enid was still piling snow up, trying to coax Judith into joining her. "What happened with Kelsey? I though she was your girlfriend."

Now Carl seemed even more uncomfortable, but to his credit he looked up and began to explain with a heavy heart. "I think we broke up."

"What makes you _think_ you broke up?"

"Well…the day we left she said it might be better being friends."

"Ahhh," Rick said gently, sympathising. "That conversation's never easy."

"It's fine," he said nonchalantly, trying to downplay it.

"Tell me about Enid later," he requested, heading off for the Infirmary. "Keep your sister away from the lake."

Leaving him to it Rick headed down to the Infirmary, making sure to complete dry his boots at the front door. Inside Denise was bustling around while Carrie settled herself onto the bed, and she looked at him expectantly.

"Did you see that coming?"

Carrie scoffed. "The blind guy at the Kingdom saw that coming. You told me he had a girlfriend there."

"He got dumped," he said, coming to take his usual place by the bed. "Don't tell him I told you."

Carrie cringed now, as did Denise. "Poor kid, that's horrible. I still remember those days."

This time it was Rick's turn to scoff. "You've never been dumped in your life. Girls like you dumped boys like me for fun."

Perhaps feeling a little less sympathetic to him in general, Carrie grinned. "That's true. I would have broken your heart in high school. What about you, Denise?" she asked as she lay back on the bed, lifting her shirt for the doctor. "You a heart breaker?"

"Less of a heart breaker, more of the heart broken," she admitted, warming her hands before placing them on Carrie's belly. "I was in the Dumped Club with Rick."

While Denise got a start on their appointment Rick slipped his hand into Carrie's and patiently waited. There was nothing for them to worry about, no reason in particular she needed him to hold her hand, but he did so anyway. By now they were old hat at this, and he simply watched on as Denise pressed down and felt the baby.

"How have you been feeling? Anything troubling you?"

At this question Rick glanced at Carrie, and as he fully expected she launched into a lengthy tirade of her complaints and ailments, apparently still needing to get them off her chest. Ever patient Denise listened with sympathy and understanding, nodding her head in all the right places. Finally it seemed she had gotten everything off her chest, and though he had on occasion teased her for the list of complaints she had, he could see how visibly relieved she was. Thinking over everything that had happened recently, he tried to remind himself that Carrie was going stir crazy once again…she was still getting used to the fact that for the next few months her one and only task was to look after Judith and the new baby. She couldn't become mixed up in the war, she couldn't be part of any negotiations or relationship building with other groups. Right now, her pregnancy and associated complaints were just about the only thing she had to focus on.

"D-Denise," Carrie said urgently, squirming. "If you keep pressing on me right there I think I might pee myself."

"Sorry," she apologised, moving her hands away from the front of her pubic bone. Concentrating, Denise was silent as she continued pressing her hands into Carrie's belly, and then finally she looked up at her. "I think you know what I'm going to tell you."

Having gone quiet, Carrie slowly nodded. "Yeah, I think I do. It's not in the right position, is it?"

"No, it's not," Denise shook her head, spreading her hands out and feeling along Carrie's sides. "I'll do an ultrasound to get a proper look, but I'm almost certain it's breech. By now it should be head down, not head up," she clarified for Rick's sake.

When Denise ushered him to he placed his hand on the top of Carrie's belly, able to feel a firm lump on her right side. "That's the head?"

"I think so," Denise said, wheeling over the computer and preparing the ultrasound.

"I've been able to feel it there for a few weeks now," Carrie commented, taking his hand and moving it a little further around. "Sometimes it moves a bit, but it keeps going back to this spot."

"How bad is this?" he asked, wanting a frank answer.

As the computer booted up Denise considered her answer carefully, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Normally babies have turned into the head down position by now," she began, addressing both Carrie and Rick. "You've just hit thirty six weeks, so in all likelihood it will turn in the next few weeks. He or she might just need some encouragement."

"And if it doesn't turn? How bad is it?" he asked again.

The look of uncertainty in her eyes was not reassuring, nor was the way she fetched a folder of notes and carefully consulted it. "A breech birth is not ideal, but it is possible," she insisted, trying to reassure them. "The worry is that the torso and shoulders deliver easily enough, but by the time the head comes to pass the cervix may not be dilated enough."

"I…I read about this happening in one of Brea's obstetrics books," Carrie began, sounding worried. "They sai-"

"I told you not to read those," he said in irritation, cutting her off. "They're just every worst case scenario."

"What else am I supposed to do all day?" she snapped at him. Having made her point clear she turned back to Denise and continued. "They said that in a breech delivery the umbilical cord is compressed, and the baby can die."

Looking up from her notes, Denise gave a hesitant nod. "That's the worst case scenario, and we're no-"

"And because this is my first baby, it's more likely to happen."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Denise implored, taking a bottle of blue gel and squeezing it onto the peak of her belly. "You're barely thirty six weeks, there's still time."

"It should have turned by now."

"Some babies simply turn later, and there's still time." As she talked she started the ultrasound, moving the transducer over Carrie's belly as the monitor showed them the baby in profile. "There's plenty we can do to get this baby into the right position."

"But it's definitely breech?" Carrie asked, her voice soft.

"I'm afraid so," Denise confirmed, bringing the transducer low across her belly. "On the plus side, the feet and legs are nice and close to the body, and there's still a good amount of amniotic fluid. These are both good things."

Silence resumed for a few minutes, Rick and Carrie both watching the ultrasound as Denise kept looking around, taking her time to scope out the situation. As they waited Rick glanced down at Carrie, wondering how long she had known the baby wasn't in the right position. He'd seen her touching the top of her belly a lot lately, but he hadn't put much thought to it. Instead his attention had been focused on those damn obstetric books she kept on reading, books of worst case scenarios that were for doctors to read, not patients. Now that they were facing a complication she was more worried than she should be.

Denise finished up with the ultrasound, wiping the blue gel off Carrie's belly and then pulling her shirt back down for her. "Here's what we're going to do," she began, consulting her notes as Carrie sat up. "You can start with some techniques to encourage the baby to turn on it's own. Things like getting on all fours and sticking your butt in the air, some yoga positions are really good," she suggested, handing Carrie a sheet of paper with various diagrams.

"Is this all we can do?" she asked, not looking that reassured.

"For now, yes. When Brea comes she might decide to leave things and see what happens, or she might try turning the baby with her hands."

"That's an external cephalic version?" Carrie asked slowly, trying to recall the term. "I read that it hurts, and that the cord ca-"

"Brea can give you better information on that than I can," Denise cut her off, not wanting her to start worrying just yet. "But if nothing happens that's likely what she'll recommend." There was a pause now, and it appeared Denise was bracing herself before continuing. "You should also prepare for the possibility that she'll want you to go to the Kingdom for the birth."

Though Denise was speaking to Carrie, Rick immediately shook his head. "The baby is being born here."

"It's just a possibility," Denise repeated, pushing her glasses up her nose. "She and I already discussed every complication that could arise, and this was her plan for a breech. Their facilities are better, they have more people who know what they're doing if something goes wrong, a-"

"Those people can come here. That's why we're bringing Brea back, so that Carrie doesn't have to travel."

"Rick," Carrie said quietly, readjusting her hand in his. "Ezekiel might not want to send away both of his doctors. Especially given the state of things."

"The state of things is exactly why I don't want you travelling again."

For a moment Carrie was going to argue, but instead she chose to hold her tongue, perhaps not wanting to get into this right now. Clearing her throat she carefully folded the paper on which the yoga positions were printed and then shuffled her way off the bed, thanking Denise for seeing them. For a moment Rick stood there in disbelief, annoyed that the conversation had halted there. The notion of Carrie travelling to the Kingdom needed to be set aside immediately…it couldn't happen, not now.

They departed the Infirmary hand in hand, but there was no chance of them walking in silence. "We gonna talk about this?" he asked, squeezing her hand to get her attention.

As he posed his question he looked at her in anticipation, seeing that she had parted her lips to speak. He knew that expression on her face, that there was an argument right on the tip of her tongue, that she was ready to go for it. But her expression softened, and it seemed she was reconsidering.

"Maybe we can sleep on it," she suggested, giving a heavy sigh as she brushed her hair off her face. "You're not going anywhere in the morning, are you?"

"I can stay back a while if you want."

"Please," she requested, raising their joined hands and kissing the back of his hand. "Let's sleep on it. I don't want to argue today."

He was unhappy with the plan, preferring instead that they simply get the argument over and done with, that she realise he was right. But instead of pushing it he instead let it go, sensing her reluctance. This was bad news for them, perhaps it was better that they let it settle and think on things over night…perhaps she was right.

"I'm calling it," she began nonchalantly. "It's a boy. No doubt."

Sensing her need to lighten the mood, Rick played along and looked at her in suspicion. "Is that a guess, or did you ask Denise?"

"It's an educated prediction. A girl wouldn't be giving her mom this kind of trouble."

"Have you met Judith?" he questioned playfully. "She's been nothing but trouble the last couple weeks."

Carrie lightheartedly shrugged. "She's just testing the waters again, seeing what she can get away with. She's fine."

"She's coming into our bed _every_ night."

"What are you complaining for? You're not the one who's constantly awake and has to put her back."

This point he didn't argue, knowing the onus had been on her to do it. He'd been sleeping heavily lately, never noticing the way Judith crept into their bed when she became lonely in her own room. "We should train her to go into Carl's bedroom. Then she's his problem."

"Good idea," she remarked as they crossed their front porch. Taped to their front door was a piece of paper, one Carrie pulled off before he could. "The watch schedule?"

"Let me see," he requested, taking the piece of paper and recognising Sasha's neat cursive writing.

Following Carrie inside he scrutinised the names and the six hour shifts on each of their posts, which now totalled five with the new expansion. The timing almost too perfect, and barely an hour after they talked about it Mitchell rearranged the schedule so that he and his sister were on adjacent watch posts at the same time. As of midnight they would be covering the east and the north-east post…they were doing it tonight.

"Why did Sasha leave you that?" Carrie asked, removing her coat before stowing her gun in their safe. She waited until Rick passed over his Colt too, and then she closed the safe and headed inside.

For a few moments he stood there in the threshold and studied the schedule, his mind racing. Lana and Vetor were going to make a run for it that night…the prospect of letting them go was now very real. "She's just making sure I'm on board with everything these days, that I'm happy with the people who are on watch."

At this Carrie laughed. "Since when do you need to approve Sasha's scheduling? Hey," she called after a long pause, trying to get his attention. "You coming or what?"

"Where?" he replied absentmindedly.

When she didn't reply he looked up at her, surprised to find her pulling her shirt over her head. Her hair tumbled down across her shoulders, the straps on her bra slackening when she removed it and tossed it at him. He caught it with an approving nod, taking the moment to admire her body, liking of her train of thought. Who was he to argue?

"Something on your mind, Sweetheart?" he enquired, already unbuckling his duty belt. His eyes were helplessly drawn to her breasts, wondering if they'd be off limits today like they sometimes were.

"We gotta get this baby turned," she reminded him, unfolding the yoga instructions Denise had given them. Coming closer she brought his attention to the various poses, smiling as she pointed out one in particular. "While I'm stuck doing this pose, I can think of a way you might occupy yourself."

With the kids liable to come home at any moment there wasn't time to waste, and despite the magnitude of what was going to happen tonight Rick screwed up the watch schedule and lazily tossed it aside. Instead he chose to pay attention to his wife, eagerly letting her usher him upstairs to the privacy of their bedroom. Hell, it was Valentines Day, and Lana wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

Laying awake and starting at the clock that told her it was one thirty in the morning, Carrie tried her hardest to get comfortable. At barely thirty six weeks she was already starting to feel the occasional Braxton Hicks contractions, barely a sample of what was to come when she went into labour. Behind her Rick was sleeping soundly, snuggled up against her back as he tried to stay warm. Not used to this weather he was always cold, and dammit she was hot…why couldn't he just stay on his side of the bed and leave her alone?

She didn't mean to be so irritable towards him lately, it was just he pissed her off so easily. The nerve of that man to be breathing and existing, not pregnant and in full control of his pelvic floor…the bastard. Initially she had laughed it off when Maggie warned her to start wearing panty liners in her underwear, not believing that a simple sneeze would make her wet herself. After all, she was doing her kegal exercises religiously. She had figured out the hard way that Maggie was right…she was right about a lot things.

Things had changed lately, and it wasn't just the spectre of the Saviours and potential war lingering over them like a dark cloud. In the grand scheme of things it was stupid and trivial to care about her body, to be bothered by the fact she had put on weight on her thighs and ass, not that Rick seemed to have noticed. She felt stupid for being upset that her jeans didn't fit anymore, it was just everything had started happening too quickly for her to keep up with. Without warning none of her clothes fit, there were damp patches in her bra, she was winded walking up the stairs…and Rick hadn't noticed a damn thing. In one respect she ought to be pleased he hadn't noticed, she should take it as a sign that everything was okay and she was just overreacting, though it was difficult to feel that way all the time.

She was losing more and more control over her body, and after months of existing with a false sense of security over it all, the changes were most unwelcome.

Compounding the trivial problems she faced personally, the growing threat of the Saviours was making everything feel harder to manage. She wasn't going to hide the fact that she was scared, though she could see Rick making a conscious effort to try and minimise how dangerous the threat was, at least in front of she and Carl anyway. He didn't want them to worry, he avoided talking about any of it while he was at home, yet it was this that concerned her. If he was worried enough to try and hide it from her, then it was definitely worth worrying over. At least she was confident that Alexandria were not burying their heads in the sand, that they were doing something about this. Negan's people had already tracked them down once before, Daryl, Sasha and Abraham lucky to make it out of the encounter alive. Since then it was a miracle they had avoided any more encounters with the Saviours, particularly given Richard's insistence that they were out there. Not only were they looking for Alexandria, they were also looking for their own defectors, the three people who had encountered Daryl before stealing his bike and crossbow.

In the back of Carrie's mind was the horrible possibility that everything was going to go wrong, the strong likelihood that one way or another, some of their people were going to die. Sooner or later there would be a fight, whether it was a tactical move instigated by them or an attack from the Saviours, it wouldn't matter. A fight of any kind would lead to deaths, and selfishly, Carrie didn't care who it was or how many that died, as long as it wasn't her family. She wouldn't cope without Rick, she wouldn't manage to raise his three children and giving them the life he wanted them to have. If he died fighting for their future, she didn't think she would be able to provide that future without him there too.

Despite all that Rick and the rest of the community were going, it still seemed that some of them were determined to bury their heads in the sand. It was Lana and her group who seemed to resist all group discussion of the Saviours and war, them who had tried to avoid having anything to do with it. So far Rick had been forcing her to be involved, making her come to the Hilltop with them, making her go to the meeting in Washington where he and Richard negotiated the terms under which they would go to war. Any time there was a meeting to do with the Saviours or their efforts to protect themselves from them, Lana and her group were the last to arrive and the first to depart. They wanted as little to do with this coming was as possible, they were showing no loyalty to Alexandria and the people who had provided them a home for so many months.

Even with an objective view on all that, Carrie knew that her opinion of Lana only continued to decline. It was bad enough she continued to sleep with Daryl after claiming that she wouldn't, now she had crossed another unspoken line…at least it was a line to Carrie anyway. In an effort to get some space from her own people she had moved in with Carol and Tobin, and Carrie didn't mind admitting to herself that it made her jealous…it hurt. There were plenty of vacant houses or empty bedrooms into which Lana could have moved when she wanted to leave Vetor. Why did it have to be with Carol? Since when had the two woman had anything in common? They'd never been friends, they'd never interacted any more than two people who co-existed in the same space…and then they were living together.

She had hoped so badly that Carol taking time away from Alexandria would help her, that she would come home refreshed and feeling better about whatever was bothering her. While at first that seemed to be the case, for she beamed as she fawned over Carrie's belly and was a huge participant in making the baby shower an enjoyable affair, things had quickly gone back to the way they were before. Carol didn't come to visit, her interest in seeing Judith had waned once again, and whenever Carrie came to visit her she felt like her presence there was only welcome for a limited time. As if a timer started the moment she walked through the door, Carrie instinctually knew that she was going to overstay her welcome after only a few short minutes, that Carol wasn't interested in having her in her home. Rick seemed not to have noticed, and when she brought it up with him he simply told her to leave Carol alone…he didn't get it.

Still laying awake Carrie she reached over and turned on the light, startled to find a tiny figure squeezed onto the bed in front of her. She must have dozed off at some stage, for Judith had managed to make her way into the bed undetected. Curled up beside her she slept with her thumb in her mouth, looking so peaceful that Carrie hated to disturb her. Nevertheless she had to, but first she carefully climbed over her and slipped out of the bed, dancing around a little as she waddled into the bathroom to pee…again.

When she returned to the bedroom she scoped out what she was up against, knowing she had to move Judith into the centre of the bed, but it would be a delicate operation. When she leant over her belly brushed against Judith's face, so she made quick work of it when she gave Rick a gentle but firm push. He huffed at her, annoyed even in his sleep, but he slumped onto his back and allowed the extra room she wanted. She panted after she gently moved Judith over, exerted by the smallest efforts these days, and it was with great relief that she lay back down and placed her head back on her pillow.

No sooner than she had closed her eyes did Rick begin to snore, the deep rumble from the back of his throat annoying her more than it usually did. He didn't snore often, but when he did it was usually after a few too many drinks or a particularly long day of work. Increasingly frustrated by her lack of sleep Carrie glared at him through the darkness, and when she could take it no more she reached over and clenched his nostrils together, and then waited. Soon enough she felt his body lurch, his head turning away as she quickly rescinded her hand and pretended to be asleep. Trying not to smile she listened as he gave a heavy sigh and turned onto his side, the way he preferred to sleep.

"I know that was you," he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Love you."

Having the decency to quit snoring Rick went back to sleep, leaving her there wide awake. Resenting how peacefully he slept she lay there and tried to relax, wishing her mind would wander to something other than the baby and the annoying movements she could feel from it. While normally she would marvel over every kick or bump, at night while she was trying to sleep it was particularly tiresome. Nevertheless she couldn't help herself as she slipped her hand under her shirt and pressed the top of her belly, feeling what she had suspected for weeks now was the head. There it was in that same spot, rarely moving away and always coming right back when it did.

Today's appointment with Denise had only left her frustrated and worried, and she dreaded the conversation that was coming between she and Rick. She understood why he vehemently wanted the baby to be born in Alexandria, that he didn't want her travelling any more than she absolutely had to. He'd been reluctant about her visit to the Hilltop, and she suspected that it would be difficult to make him budge on the notion of her travelling to the Kingdom. In some respects he was right…with the Saviours breathing down their necks they needed to keep a low profile, and if she went to the Kingdom long term she would have to bring Judith with her. She couldn't bear to thought of leaving her behind in Alexandria right now, even if she was safe with Carl and the others.

It felt like no time had passed when she realised she needed to pee again, and she lay there for as long as she could stand to hold it, wishing the discomfort away. But eventually there was no holding it any longer, and she forced herself to get up yet again. Creeping out of the bed she tried not to move the mattress too much, for if she woke Judith up they'd all suffer for it, and she traipsed into the bathroom without needing to turn on the light. It wasn't until she had finished up and was laying back down into bed that she realised something was off…that the other half of the bed was empty.

Hauling herself up again she turned on the lamp, squinting as she looked at Rick's side of the bed. The blankets had been pushed back in a hurry, his watch missing from his nightstand and his coat missing from where he had tossed it over the bureau. Both curious and concerned she reached over and placed her hand on the empty sheets, finding them to be cold.

With an odd feeling in her stomach she got out of bed and looked for her satin robe, slipping it on and hastily tying it at the waist. She lingered only to check that Judith was fast asleep before creeping out of the bedroom, and when she saw the lights on downstairs she knew that something was amiss. Rick wouldn't have taken his watch and coat if he was just getting a glass of water. A quick glance down the hall told her that Carl too was fast asleep, undisturbed by whatever was going on, and with that in mind she slowly made her way downstairs.

All of the lights were on, and though she could hear very little she could feel the presence of people there, this thought immediately confirmed. Sasha was there, briefly visible as she crossed from the living room into the kitchen, promptly followed by Glenn. No one noticed her as she crept down the hallway, and it was there she lingered for a few moments, waiting to make herself known. Outside the porch light was on, and she could make out Daryl's silhouette as he paced back and forth, Carol too.

Unapologetic to disturb them, Carrie quietly made her way into the living room in search of Rick, momentarily surprised by how many people there were here. While Sasha, Glenn and Tara stood in the kitchen, Abraham and Tobin were sitting in the living room, the latter with his head in his hands as though something terrible had happened. But seated at the dining room table was Lana, her blonde hair falling over her face as she looked down, her shoulders shaking as she cried. On the table in front of her was a pen and a note pad, the pages of which were blank. For a long moment Carrie simply stared at her, flabbergasted. What on earth was going on?

In the corner of the dining room with his arms folded Rick was saying something, his voice so quiet that only Lana could hear him. At his words she gave a terrible shudder, gasping for breath as she lifted her head and tried to collect herself. When she looked up her eyes fell straight onto Carrie, but she quickly looked away in shame, practically blubbering as she clumsily wiped at her cheeks. Rick too had noticed her presence, but although he glanced at her he turned his attention back to Lana.

Losing his patience Rick started forward towards her, and Carrie didn't blame her when Lana physically flinched, recoiling as though he was going to hit her. But he didn't touch her, not even a little. Instead he leant his hands on the table beside her, murmuring something that again only they could hear. This time it seemed to help, Lana taking a deep shuddering breath while she shakily brushed her hair behind her ears. She looked down at the note pad and pen, her hands visibly trembling as she picked it up and held it in her hand for a moment. She stared at the paper before bringing the pen down and beginning to write, but whatever it was Carrie could not see it.

Satisfied, Rick slowly stepped away to give Lana some space, but the expression on his face when he looked at her was one Carrie had never seen before. She didn't quite know what to make of it, whether he was angry or upset…whatever it was, he was far from content. He softened a little when he came over to her, touching her elbow as he subtly ushered her back into the hallway from which she had come. Cooperating she did as he asked, not getting the impression that he was trying to brush her off. Instead she sensed that he wanted to explain, yet he wasn't forthcoming. He rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced back into the dining room, his face taut with stress.

"Rick," she began softly, trying to coax some information. "Did she…did she do something?"

Before he could answer the front door opened, Carol and Daryl coming inside before going in different directions. While Carol approached the dining table and took a seat by Lana, Daryl went into the kitchen, arms folded across his chest as he leant against the counter and stared at the floor. Having been watching them both Rick cleared his throat, looking at Daryl a moment longer before he turned to Carrie.

"Yeah…you could say that."

* * *

A/N

Okay readers, go! What do you think Lana's done!?

Prepare your hard hats for chapter 35 - obviously Lana has a bomb to drop.


	35. Chapter 35

A/N If I've completely butchered the Portuguese language I sincerely apologise! All I have is Google translate. And please remember, wear your hard hats for the bombs to be dropped :-)

* * *

Sunday Feb 15

The moment Rick crossed the threshold into the dark townhouse he could feel the sense of someone there, the buzz of activity that was going on. Going quietly he slipped inside with his Colt drawn, treading carefully through the darkness. As the others filed in behind him equally silent he allowed his eyes a moment more to adjust, watching and waiting as the last person through the door, Michonne, closed it with a soft click. There was a moment of tension now, each of them silent and still as they listened for any indication that their arrival had been detected. But the townhouse was completely silent, the dark shadows still. And then…footsteps.

As they became attuned to their surroundings they listened to the faint echo of footsteps above them, a muffled sound that might be voices. Lingering by the foot of the stairs Rick took his flashlight from his duty belt and pressed the end against his hip, dulling and controlling the light so that their presence remained unknown. Using only the amount of light that he had to, he observed the four backpacks that had been haphazardly dumped in the hallway, one for each Mina, Mitchell, Vetor and Lana. Out on the sidewalk were two plastic tubs, one crammed full of food and the other with general supplies. The neat and orderly arrangement of those supplies suggested to them that this had indeed been well planned, that Vetor had been hoarding and preparing these supplies for weeks now.

The intention had been to let them leave, Rick preferring to let them take what they wanted and run so long as they didn't hurt anyone, yet it hadn't worked out that way. Barely five minutes ago Sasha had roused him from sleep, and when he stumbled out of bed and joined her in the hallway she gave him the full picture. Lana didn't want to leave. She was begging Vetor, trying to change his mind to no avail.

"She wants to stay," Sasha had whispered, the two of them standing in the dark hallway outside his bedroom. "We can't let him force her. We should stop them."

Agreeing with her, Rick made the call to intervene, hurriedly dressing in the dark as he tried not to wake Carrie. In minutes they had the right people together and made their way to the townhouse where they kept their Pantry and armoury, taking whatever measures necessary to ensure that Lana was leaving of her own volition. There was doubt now, so he needed to hear it from her own mouth that she was ready to leave, that this was what she wanted.

Still only able to hear muffled sounds of conversation, Rick decided to make a move. Communicating in absolute silence, he, Glenn, Michonne, Sasha and Daryl began making their way upstairs, leaving Carol and Abraham watching the front door downstairs. As they crept up the staircase Rick saw a beam of light that faintly illuminated the hallway. The intruders had left the armoury door wide open as they pilfered it, working by flashlight so as to not draw attention to themselves. There had been no need for them to break through the heavy duty door or the combination lock, not that they would have managed it anyway. In the aftermath of the Wolf attack so many months ago Rick had finally granted Lana's group access. They had proven themselves more than adequately, and at the time their discussions of leaving Alexandria had died down. He had granted them access with a degree of confidence in them, though had still proceeded with an appropriate level of caution. It was Lana he trusted…not Vetor.

Waiting for the right moment, Rick and Glenn looked at one another before swiftly passing the open door and shrouding themselves in the shadows on the other side. For a moment the five of them collectively held their breaths, waiting for the conversation inside to falter, for Lana and Vetor to see them there, but nothing changed. Ready to confront them at a moment's notice Rise chose to bide his time, to take advantage of the position and listen rather than act. In a minute or two he managed to gauge what was going on inside. The sound of handguns bumping against one another, the rattle of ammunition in a cardboard box, the locks turning in their steel gun cabinets. They seemed to be working slowly and methodically, certainly in no rush of panic, not that both of them seemed happy with the situation. Though she spoke calmly, it was clear even on first impressions that Lana was still unconvinced, that she didn't want to go.

"Why can't we sleep on this one more night?" she asked in a low whisper. "Just one more night."

"I have made my decision," Vetor replied, his voice equally calm and soft. "I have already waited for you. I will wait no longer."

"We don't have to do it like this," she implored a moment later, sounding more urgent this time. "We don't have to do it at all."

When Vetor responded to her he did so in Portuguese, and though he didn't understand the words being said, Rick understood the tone. It was both a warning and a reassurance. _Everything is going to be okay, just do as you're told_. When he finished speaking there was a long pause, the silence stretching on until Rick was just about ready to make a move, and then Lana spoke again.

"Can't we wait one more week? _Por favor_ , Vetor."

"Is it him?" he asked bluntly, his tone of voice losing all sense of kindness. "Do you love him?"

"It's not about him," she answered without hesitation.

"Then what?"

"I just…I just want one more week, that's all."

Looking over at Daryl, Rick couldn't help but suspect that he was the one Vetor had been referring to, he was the only plausible explanation of someone else that Lana might love. Having heard enough, he signalled to the group that he was ready, and when they too gave the signal they moved in one fluid motion. Going in first he raised the Colt with his finger by the trigger guard, setting it straight onto Vetor who stood in the middle of the armoury. In a split second the rest of the group had followed him in too, the sudden change of Michonne turning on the light startling the would be escapees.

As he realised what was going on Vetor gave an angry shout, scrambling back against one of the gun safes and dropping the boxes of ammunition he carried. With a twisted snarl he seized his own gun and raised it in his defence, and momentary chaos ensued. As the five of them spread across the exit Lana lunged towards Vetor, shouting for them to stop while she tried to shield him. As they all shouted back at her to stand down Rick looked at her critically, softening when he saw that she had been crying recently, her eyes red and puffy. Sasha had made the right call that they should intervene.

"Lower the gun, Vetor," Rick instructed, the others falling silent and letting him take the lead. "It's five against one, don't be stupid."

Vetor seemed not to care that he was outnumbered, and he paid them no attention. Instead he was looking at Lana in disdain, moving aside and rejecting her effort to protect him. " _Você disse a ele_?"

"No!" she exclaimed desperately, panicking.

" _Quem_?" he shouted now. " _Quem você contou_?"

"No one! I didn't, I swear!"

" _Anjo_ …"

"I swear, Vetor. _Por favor, acredite em mim_."

Intervening before they could say anything else he didn't understand, Rick slowly took a step forward, never taking his eyes off him. The man was angry and cornered, accusing Lana of betraying him…and his finger was on the trigger.

"Enough," he began lowly. Making a point of it, he retracted the Colt's hammer and moved his finger to the trigger, a motion Vetor noticed.

"Rick, please," Lana implored him. "It's not what it looks like, I swear."

"I think it's exactly what it looks like," he stated, he and Vetor holding eye contact now. "Vetor?"

Despite being significantly outnumbered, Vetor seemed undeterred from his path. He proudly held Rick's gaze, staring him down with defiance. "It is to your benefit that we leave Alexandria," he stated smoothly. At this he looked away, making eye contact with the others there by Rick's side. "That is all you need to know. This is none of your concern."

"It is my concern, because those are our guns you're stealing."

"Consider them your parting gift to me," Vetor replied without shame. "A thank you."

"Thank you?"

"Yes. It is to your benefit that we leave."

Not taking that for an answer, Rick shook his head. "You're going to have to explain that to us."

"I have to do nothing for you," Vetor said sharply. "It is none of your concern."

As Vetor flexed his hand on the gun a flurry of tension swept about the room, everyone else doing the same to reinforce the notion that he was outnumbered, that there was nothing he could do to fight back against them. Despite this there was no change, and when Vetor turned to Lana and started shouting something in Portuguese at her, Glenn intervened.

"Alright, alright," he said smoothly, keeping his tone as gentle as possible. Moving a few steps to his right he got Vetor's attention and looked him in the eye. "Let's all take a breather for a moment."

As he said these words Glenn cautiously lowered his gun, keeping both his hands visible to Vetor as he holstered it safely on his hip. On the opposite side of the armoury Michonne did the same, lowering her katana before slowly reaching over her shoulder and slipping it back into the holster. Though Daryl, Sasha Rick were still armed with their usual preference of weapon, it seemed Glenn and Michonne's surrender was enough to relieve the tension, a show of good faith to Vetor that this didn't have to end badly.

"Come on," Glenn encouraged, gesturing to the gun Vetor held. "Put it down."

Staring at Rick, he shook his head. "No."

"At least take your finger off the trigger."

He too playing along with Glenn's instructions, Rick took a chance and slowly removed his finger from the trigger of his Colt. Holding Vetor's gaze he poked his finger away from the gun and wagged it at him, reinforcing Glenn's instruction. Even as Vetor glared at him and refused to budge Rick was cautiously confident. A bolt from Daryl's crossbow would only be an instant away, and with the hammer already retracted it would take less than a split second for him to fire. Finally, Vetor too removed his finger from the trigger, twisting his wrist so that Rick could watch him place it safely above the trigger guard.

Satisfied for now, Rick quickly sought to keep the conversation going, to not let it stall before it even started. He turned to Lana now, watching the way she stood in the middle, stuck between standing by Vetor's side and joining Glenn. Just like she had been for months she was torn between her love for him and her loyalty to Alexandria. Even on first impressions it was clear to see just how hard this all was on her. She was adequately dressed to be making an escape into the unforgiving world outside, her sturdy boots and heavy coat well suited to it, yet not one part of her wanted to go.

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

She looked at Vetor a few moments longer before turning to Rick, her voice soft. "You wouldn't have let me go."

"I would have, just not like this," he assured her. There was a long pause, and he made sure to hold eye contact when he continued. "Look me in the eye and tell me this is what you want. If it is, you can take what you need and go."

She turned back to Vetor, her eyes wide and pleading with him. But he was having none of it, impatiently shaking his head at her. _"_ _Anjo…somos perigosos aqui_."

"I wasn't asking you. I'm asking her," Rick said bluntly.

"Lana," Michonne began. "You don't have to leave if you don't want to. This is your home."

" _Somos perigosos aqui_ _."_

"If you don't want to fight the Saviours, we won't ask you to," Rick added.

It seemed this was the wrong thing to say, for Vetor fired up again and raised his voice. "We are not afraid."

This he ignored. "Lana, tell me right now. Is this what you want?"

Though her shoulders slumped in defeat, it seemed she was making a change, defeated. "He's right," she said lowly, looking back at Vetor. "It's too dangerous…it's safer that we leave."

"You don't have to fight them."

"I meant safer for you."

At this remark Rick faltered, unsure of what she meant. "How does losing four of our people make us safer?"

She was staring at Vetor now, her upper lip curling into an angry snarl the longer she looked at him. "Tell them," she said shortly.

" _Anjo_ ," he started, trying to placate her. "You're upset."

"Tell them why we're running away. Again."

"Lana," he said loudly, advancing towards her. He made it barely half a step before she was backing away, coming to stand by Glenn's side who had already come forward to intervene. "This is none of their concern!"

"He's the…" she started before trailing off, her voice heavy with accusation. She turned and looked at Rick now, her shoulders heaving for breath as she started losing control of herself. "He's the reason we're in this fuckin' mess."

" _Anjo, escute-m_ _-"_

"Shut up!" she screamed, her cheeks turning red as tears erupted in her eyes. A pained sob slipped from her mouth, making her pant as she raised her hands and pushed the hair off her face, trying to straighten her thoughts. "Please, just…shut up."

There was silence now, Rick and the others waiting on tenterhooks while Lana collected herself, hands clenched in her hair as she stared at the floor. While they gave her a moment Rick glanced over at Vetor, pleased that he had heeded her request to stop talking. He now stood there in silence, but even though he seemed to accept that Lana was going to say her piece he hadn't lowered the gun.

"You did this to us," Lana continued, her voice wavering only a little. She spoke in a low tone, looking at Vetor as she slowly lowered her hands and took a deep breath. "You never wanted me…but you never wanted anyone else to have me either. Not even _him_."

"Not even who?" Rick demanded, stepping forward.

She turned to look him in the eye, bracing herself before answering. "Negan."

Stunned by the absurdity of her answer, Rick faltered for a moment. The entire room collectively held their breath as this sunk in. "What does Negan have to do with any of this?"

"He has everything to do with this," she said bitterly, glancing at Vetor who stood in silence, fuming at her. "Richard said Negan's still looking for defectors," she continued, turning to Daryl now. "Dwight and Sherri? Tina was with them, too?"

Daryl nodded, though he remained undistracted from holding Vetor in his crossbow's sights. "Yeah, that was them. They were looking for 'em in the burn' out forrest."

"He might have been looking for them once, but they're not who he's looking for now," she said hesitantly, steeling herself before she continued. "Dwight and Sherri are either dead, or went back months ago. Negan is looking for me…for Vetor. We're the defectors."

Rick gaped at her, the magnitude of this hitting him all at once. Had he heard correctly? "Tell me everything."

"It doesn't matter now. We ha-"

"Tell me everything," he repeated, raising his voice a little. "Or he gets a bullet."

Not wanting to risk it, Lana nodded and hastened to explain. "We found their place by accident, and they let us stay. Negan liked us, all of us. We could have stayed there, but Vetor ruined it."

"How?" he pressed, wanting more.

"It was his idea that I go with Negan, that I become one of his wives. But he couldn't handle another man having me. You never want me until someone else does," she spat scathingly, her voice beginning to escalate.

"Negan's your husband?" he questioned, trying to keep up.

"No, I was his wife. There's a difference."

"We needed points," Vetor said loudly, trying to defend himself. "There were eleven of us back then. Eleven mouths to feed, to clothe, to shelter. I did my best with what we had!"

"But you ruined it! We had a good thing going there."

"Good?"

"We all had food, a place to sleep," she appealed. "We could have stayed there, Vetor! We had a life there."

It was at this that Vetor seemed to lose his temper, his features twisting into fury as he turned the gun around in his hands. With a great flourish he threw it to the ground with a loud clatter, the motion making Lana jump in fright. "It was a disgust to me!" he roared at her, his voice cracking as he looked around at them all. "Negan and all of his whores! All of them fucking with him, fucking his soldiers, having their babies…it was a disgust! I wanted better for you, but I'm the animal?"

Lana spluttered in outrage, struggling to find adequate words. "Just admit that you were jealous!" she cried in astonishment. "Admit that you can't stand the thought of another man having me. That's why we had to leave," she continued, turning to Rick now.

"What happened?" Rick asked, still holding his gun to Vetor despite his surrender.

"We got caught having sex," she simply said. "I begged Arat not to tell Negan, but she needed something to get onto his good side. She needed the promotion."

"What would he have done?" Michonne pressed, trying to learn as much as possible. The details mattered. "Would he have hurt you?"

Lana shook her head. "Not me. He'd never raise a hand to me, not even for being unfaithful. But Vetor…Vetor would have been killed, or had his face burned."

"Burned how?"

"With a hot iron…that's just one of his many quirks. Negan was out when we got caught, we managed to leave before anyone could tell him. We killed two innocent people when we escaped, and left one of our own behind…all because Vetor couldn't keep his dick in his pants."

There was a heavy silence now, Lana having finally confessed everything to them. Rather taken aback by it all Rick looked around at his people, relieved to find them as startled as he was. Lana was Negan's wife… _one of his wives_.

"This is all in the past," Vetor said softly, making an effort to manage his tone of voice. "As for now, it is in Alexandria's best interests that my group leave without any more delay."

"Why?" Rick questioned, though he had drawn his own conclusions.

"Negan will find you," Vetor assured him, just as Richard had. "He probably already has found you, and is just waiting for the right time. When he finds us with you, when he knows you harboured the defectors he has searched months for…it will be worse. He won't care what you did and did not know. You will pay for it too."

Considering this, Rick had to agree that he was right. Vetor and Lana being here could exacerbate things if Alexandria ever did some under attack. From what they knew Negan wasn't the most level headed or rational…how would he react upon learning his defectors had taken up residence with the new group he was about to target? It would become so much worse for them…and yet, Rick couldn't turn Lana away, not if she didn't want to go.

"Lana," he began gently, feeling the tension and heightened emotions beginning to level out now. "Do you want to stay?"

At this question she hesitated, and as he suspected she might she turned to Vetor and looked at him when she answered. Even now, she took her cues from him. "He's right," she said, her voice tight. "It's better for you if we go. If Negan finds us here…"

"You haven't answered my question. Do you want to stay?"

His insistence seemed to push her closer and closer to the brink, her lower lip shaking now as her eyes welled up. "Vetor…maybe we should."

"What are you talking about?" he questioned in dismay. "We cannot stay, _somos perigosos aqui_ _."_

"Lana," Rick pressed, wanting to be absolutely clear. "He's not staying."

"Just one more week," she begged Vetor, her whole body trembling as she started returning to his side. "That's all I need, please."

" _Não_ _,_ " he protested in exasperation. "Why do you change your mind so? One week it is yes, next week it is no. Why?"

"Because I asked for it," she replied, trailing off into Portuguese, begging him to hear her out.

" _Porquê_?"

She paused now, looking at him in desperation. " _Estou grávida_ ," she tearfully whispered.

His expression fell in an instant, and when he physically recoiled from her he narrowed his eyes. " _Grávida_?"

" _Sim_ ," she replied, still tearful. " _Eu sinto muito_ _, Vetor._ "

"Enough," Rick intervened, impatient with them both. "What's going on?"

" _Eu cometi um erro_ ," she said urgently. " _Eu into muito_."

Still looking at her in disdain, Vetor slowly shook his head before gesturing to Daryl. "His?"

"I'm fixing it," she said insistently. "I swear Vetor, I'm fixing it. I just need more time."

"Fixing what?" Rick demanded tacitly, taking a large step forward though his gun pointed at Vetor never wavered "What have you done that needs to be fixed?"

Shrinking away Lana distanced herself as though afraid of him, moving instead towards Glenn whose hands were empty of a gun. "It's not your problem."

"I'm making it my problem. What needs to be fixed?"

She looked to Glenn as if he was going to step in, as if he would protect her from having to answer the question Rick had asked. But although he gave a nod of encouragement, that was all he did for her. As she looked around to the others for help her eyes were wide with desperation, really not wanting to tell Rick what she had done that needed to be fixed, and then she looked to Vetor. Seeing that he too would not support her a look of defeat came over her, and she swallowed heavily before looking at the opposite wall as she answered in a whisper.

"I'm pregnant."

Those two words brought about an excruciating silence, one in which the occupants of the armoury felt a surge of dread coming over them. It was clear by her behaviour and tone of voice that this was not to be congratulated, that for her that was not a good thing. But Lana wasn't the only one Rick was concerned for in that moment, and as he lowered his gun from Vetor he turned and looked to Daryl just as understanding dawned on him too. With his lips parted in surprise he was slowly lowering his crossbow, flabbergasted. Vetor had already figured out that he wasn't the father…that left one other person.

"You're…" Daryl mumbled nervously. Unable to get anything else out he straightened up, uncomfortably shifting his weight between his feet while he stared at her expectantly.

Lana on the other hand, seemed less concerned with his reaction. "I just need one more week," she insisted, turning back to Vetor. "We're taking Carl to the Kingdom in a couple of days, they have what I need. I can fix this, I just need more time."

Now feeling like he was intruding on what should be a private conversation, Rick stepped aside so she and Vetor could properly talk. He glanced at Daryl who was watching the conversation unfold, his face blank and impassive.

"I will take you to the Kingdom," Vetor said tersely. By his side his hands were clenched into tight fists. "I will take care of it."

"They won't let us in the gates," she argued insistently, having already thought this through. "Not without someone like Rick or Michonne, that's why we have to wait. They're expecting us in a couple of days anyway, we're taking Carl."

"We are leaving tonight!" Vetor growled, raising his voice again. " _I_ will fix your problem. _I_ will take care of you, like I always have."

Without warning Daryl suddenly stepped forward, his movements jerky and awkward, and for a moment he dithered as if not knowing what he was going to do. He was looking between Lana and Vetor, slowly raising one of his hands as he tried to placate the latter. "Nah…" he began, his voice softer that Rick had ever heard it. "Just wait a minute…" he said hesitantly, turning to Lana now. "We'll figure this out."

"This is none of your concern," Vetor said lowly, looking at him in disdain. " _She_ is none of your concern."

Daryl ignored him. "You gonna sleep on it, alrigh'? Figure it out tomorrow…"

There was silence again, and when it seemed Lana was not going to respond in any which way, Rick stepped in again. In one swift movement he raised his gun to Vetor once more, catching his gaze and holding it. "You'll sleep on it," he instructed, buying Lana some time. From the pouch on his duty belt he took his handcuffs and tossed them over. "Cuff your hands together."

Catching the cuffs, Vetor's upper lip curled as he narrowed his eyes at Lana. He said something to her in Portuguese, something that made her face become taut with emotion and her shoulders slump in defeat.

" _Eu cometi um erro_ ," she replied urgently. " _Me perdoe_. _Vetor, por favour_."

"Enough," Rick said loudly, infuriated by the way he couldn't understand. He didn't know what Vetor was saying to her, but he could gauge that it was cruel. "Cuff your hands, now."

Though he did as instructed, opening the cuffs and fixing them around each of his wrists, Vetor still didn't seem to be done. He said something else to her in Portuguese, something that sounded cruel just like before, but this time she gave no response. Instead she stood there in silence as Glenn and Michonne came forward to escort Vetor downstairs, drawing their weapons in anticipation of trouble. But he went cooperatively, just wanting to get his last kick in to Lana. He would spend the rest of the night in the jail cell that Tobin had built last month, one that had been a surprise to behold but would be put to good use.

Now came the awkward silence, those remaining unsure of what to say next, how to broach the sensitive subject that lingered in the air. Daryl and Lana stood on opposite sides of the room, both avoiding one another's gaze while the news of her pregnancy sank in for them all. Before too much time could pass Lana cleared her throat and took a deep breath, but she said nothing as she made her way across the room to the door. Either she was following Vetor or was trying to find a blessed moment of privacy, it didn't matter.

"Lana," he stopped her as she reached the door. "My house, right now. You've got a lot to tell me."

Though she slowed to a stop, she shook her head. As she spoke she raised her head and glanced at Daryl, but just as quickly looked away. "Not now. In the morning."

"Now," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She was gone in a flash, but Sasha quickly followed her, and Rick had no doubt that Sasha would get her under control, that she would cooperate. He was willing to let her stay in Alexandria for however long she wanted to, but there was no denying that she was throwing herself upon his mercy…now it was time for her to reciprocate. She had a hell of a lot to tell them, and he was determined to get every last scrap of information from her.

As he contemplated the necessity of pulling Mitchell and Mina down from their watch posts and interrogating them too, Rick looked up to Daryl, the instruction on the tip of his tongue. Yet he faltered now, conscious of what they had all just learned. Daryl looked dazed an unfocused, his crossbow held loosely by his side as he hid himself behind his hair. But as if feeling Rick's gaze on him he looked up, and the expression in his eyes was clear. _Tell me what to do_ _._

With a heavy sigh Rick started for the door, knowing that there was very little Daryl could do right now. It seemed Lana had made the decision about how she was handling this news, a decision that left little room for Daryl to make his own input. As he walked him by Rick clasped his hand onto Daryl's shoulder, the only show of support he knew how to make.

* * *

Until last night, Lana thought that the idea of finally telling someone a long held secret would be a relief, that she would feel liberated. But if last night had taught her anything, it was that telling someone the truth didn't free her from it…in reality telling Rick the truth had only made things worse. In reality she felt sick to her stomach, literally. Her stomach had been in knots for weeks, but now it ached with the magnitude of what happened last night, her chest feeling tight and her thoughts scattered all over the place.

Sitting on the front porch of Carol and Tobin's cottage, Lana gave the floor a small push to keep the swing rocking. The simplicity of feeling her body rocking back and forth seemed to occupy her mind, allowing her to sit in silence while slowly but surely her thoughts collected themselves. She was exhausted, having had little to no sleep last night, and as she tried to keep her energy up she raised her cigarette to her lips and took a long draw. When it was finished she took a deep breath before lighting another, needing something to do with her hands lest she claw her own eyes out.

In the background she could hear Tobin in his workshop at the rear of the cottage, his voice carrying like it always did. Carl was there with him that day, the two of them working on some sort of project that required a bandsaw and many planks of wood. Lana supposed she ought to be glad that Carl was back there working, that these days he felt well enough to get back into his former hobbies like working with Tobin…but honestly, she didn't give a fuck.

Carl had walked by her that morning when he let himself into the house to find Tobin, and judging by the perfectly normal way he greeted her he knew nothing about her pregnancy…no one did. Everything was perfectly normal so far. No one else who had walked past her that morning had behaved any differently, no one had looked at her the way they did when they learned that Carrie was pregnant all those months ago. That was just how Lana wanted it. She didn't want any of these people to know her situation, and especially not to know what she intended to do about it. They'd find it terrible, they'd make a point of involving themselves in her business and trying to change her mind…problem was they stood a chance of changing her mind. She didn't know what to do, she didn't know what she wanted…there was no easy answer, no single solution for all of her problems.

Yesterday had been Valentines Day, and though she hadn't been expecting anything from Vetor given the state of things between them, it still hurt. She hated seeing so much happiness yesterday, hated that Olivia had rationed balloons and heliums for decorations. Glenn had gifted his wife an enormous bunch of flowers and a corny teddy bear that had been scavenged from a carnival, while Denise and Tara had shared a picnic by the lake. Mitchell gave Anna some wind chimes for their porch, Carol had swiped extra rations form the Pantry to make a nice meal for Tobin, Carl mustered the guts to kiss Enid…Lana hated every single one of them.

In her mind she had fantasised that in the spirit of everyone else's romance, Vetor would suddenly change his mind, that he would declare his love for her and ask her to come home. But he hadn't…he hadn't done any of the things Lana had hoped for. It had been six weeks now since she had moved out of their home, and not once had he asked her to reconsider, he hadn't said a thing. The only way she knew he cared about her in some capacity was that he had waited so long for her before trying to do a runner from Alexandria. That he had consulted her about, had kept her involved in the planning of, he reluctantly agreed to her request for more time…until he didn't.

They couldn't afford to wait any longer, she understood why Vetor suddenly decided they were leaving, that he was willing to go without her. They had to run from the Saviours, there was simply no choice in the matter. Them being here was endangering themselves, but it was also endangering Alexandria too. If Negan found them here, whatever he was going to do to them would only become worse. He would show no mercy, he would punish Alexandria for harbouring his fugitives.

It felt like too much for her to comprehend anymore, too difficult to rationalise the way she had felt during her time living at the Sanctuary. That place had been a salvation the day they accidentally stumbled upon it. The Saviours had accepted their group of eleven without hesitation, and Negan had given them an ultimatum. Leave with nothing more than they already had, or stay and become part of the Saviour's group…but staying would be a commitment. Once you were in there was no backing out, that was the rule.

They opted to stay, Lana feeling there was little other choice at the time. She had eleven people who needed food and shelter, and in recent months she had been struggling to provide that to any of them. Her group had been dropping off like flies, five of them had died from Biters or sickness in the last month alone. So they agreed to stay and work for their keep, unafraid of hard labour even on the fences with the Walkers…but of course it wasn't so simple. The points system was designed to be just enough to sustain a person, to give them a bed and enough food and water to make it through each day, but nothing more. Terrence's infected tooth had left him indebted to Negan, a debt that along with others only became harder and harder to catch up on.

It had been Vetor's idea for her to marry Negan, but her choice to actually do it…at least that's what she told herself anyway.

She had quickly found that although the expectation of having sex with Negan was perfectly clear, he didn't seem to be in to forcing them. There were those among the wives that had come around to the way of life, who enjoyed having sex with him and didn't seem to get jealous of the others. It hadn't taken long for Lana to come around to that way of thinking either, for the perks sure as hell made up for the impersonal nature of her relationship with Negan. Sure they had sex, Negan having taken a liking to her body and frequently bragging that she was a model in the old days, but for the most part things were working out. Their debts were waived, she could sneak food and supplies to the rest of her group in the general population, she had nice clothing, lipstick and a hairdryer…it was perfect. Even Negan himself wasn't so bad…he could hold a conversation, and he never left his wives frustrated by a fleeting orgasm.

Lana had always known what the Saviours were, that they were nothing more than a group of thugs out to intimidate and murder innocent people…but Negan seemed to have a unique ability to justify the horrors he inflicted on people. He spoke with such conviction and belief that ultimately it was easy for Lana to overlook the horrors he inflicted on other groups and instead focus on what he might do to her own group. The way he carried Lucille about was a stark reminder of what she had seen him do, even to his own people.

But just like always, things soured because of Vetor. It was his idea that she become Negan's wife, but it hadn't taken long for his jealousy to manifest. This wasn't the first time Vetor had ruined a relationship for her, even in the days before the outbreak. He had been her first, losing her virginity to him after two years of flirting and wondering if she would ever have the bravery to do something about her crush on him. Finally they had given in and slept together, leaving Lana devastated when at the end of a perfect weekend together he told her that it couldn't happen again. So she had tried to move on, had started dating guys she modelled with, going on dates and spending the night with them…and every time Vetor had turned green with envy. After the outbreak she had hoped things would be different, that the way he had abandoned all others in order to protect her as they made their escape from Florida indicated that he loved her, that he wanted her. But nothing had changed. He still didn't want to be in a relationship with her, but nor did he want anyone else to be either.

With Negan it had been no different. Barely two weeks into her sham marriage had Vetor come on to her, meeting up with her in a darkened hallway and kissing her as though it might be the last time ever. She had been overcome with joy to know that he still wanted her, to know that there was still hope for them…and then he started talking about leaving the Sanctuary. Lana had been immediately opposed to the notion, for although their situation was less than ideal, their people had a roof over their head and food in their stomachs. They were getting by, they were even accumulating extra points for the future. Besides, they had heard the stories of what happened to people who tried to leave. It wasn't necessary for Negan to hunt down the people who left, in fact it was a waste of resources…he did it to make a point, because it made him more powerful in the eyes of the people who already feared him.

Vetor knew all that too, and still he didn't care about the risks. He hated the position he had put them in, not that Lana had been forced to sleep with another man, but that she became content with the arrangement. Once again he grew jealous, resenting that Negan expected fidelity from his wives unless it was with his specific approval. As a reward he allowed his soldiers to sleep with any wife of their choosing so long as she consented, only too happy to share what was his with those men who met his approval…it just so happened that Vetor was not one of those men. But Vetor hadn't listened, frequently making a point of meeting up with her so they could sleep together, so he could reinforce to her that he was the only man she was allowed to love, and the only one who would love her back.

The day they were caught by Arat, pants down with Lana bent over hood of a car in broad daylight, she couldn't help but wonder if Vetor had set it all up. Everyone knew how desperate Arat was to move up the ranks of Negan's soldiers, to earn a promotion that would see her forgiven for one hell of a mess she had created for them. She was the perfect one to catch them in such a compromising position, guaranteed to go straight to Negan. Information about unapproved men sleeping with his wives was of the highest value, and surely had earned Arat the promotion she so desperately needed.

Ultimately they never saw the aftermath of Negan learning what Vetor had done, that he had been sleeping with his wife. Getting exactly what he wanted, Vetor had sufficient reason to flee the Sanctuary. They knew what happened to men in this type of situation. At the very least he would be mutilated by a hot iron to the face…at the worst, Negan would use Lucille to render his punishment for him. They had seen both scenarios up close and personal, and Lana couldn't risk that to happening to Vetor. They had left immediately, managing to subdue Arat just long enough to buy themselves half an hour. That's all it took to steal enough weapons and supplies before getting their group into position. They managed to cram ten people and their loot into a station wagon and get away before Arat came around from the blow to the head, but they didn't get away with everything. In the chaos of it all, Frankie had been left behind at the Sanctuary, left to bear the consequences.

Months later, they were back in almost the same position again. They had long suspected that Negan would spare no expense when it came to looking for them, which was why it had been such a God send the day Aaron and Daryl came across what was left of their group. At first they had made a run for it, fearing that it was the Saviours who had found them, and Daryl had been the one to catch up with Lana as she ran. He had seized her by her shirt and tripped her, pinning her to the ground before roughly telling her to shut up and quit fighting him, that he wanted to help her. Even months later she remembered that moment of looking up at the face she didn't recognise, knowing instantly that help had come, that they were going to be alright. She had no idea that their past was going to continue haunting them, that their mere presence in Alexandria would endanger the very people who had saved them.

For some time things had been perfect, though initially it was difficult settling into Alexandria. Vetor didn't want to be there, he wanted to take some loot before making another run for it, but eventually things had settled just enough for them to get by there. Then the quarry herd happened…and then the group that had held up Daryl, Abraham and Sasha.

There was no doubt in Lana's mind that it was Tim and his boys club, or as Negan liked to call them, Timmy and the Dick Brigade. They were routinely sent out by Negan to search for other groups they could take over, for communities they could coerce into providing for them. Their encounter and subsequent escape wasn't lost on Lana, for although Alexandria had come out of that relatively unscathed, it had served as a wake up call for her. The Saviour's were never going to go away. They would continue looking for Lana's group of defectors, and they would continue scouting out other communities to take advantage of…sooner or later, Negan was going to discover them.

Yet despite knowing the Saviours had almost closed in on them, they couldn't run. She had been injured from the motorcycle accident she had when the Wolves attacked, and it took longer than expected for her to feel well and able bodied again. At the time they had been grieving for Sonya's loss, and it didn't take long for Mina to crack under the pressure and refuse to leave Alexandria. It was then that Lana finally managed to put her foot down with Vetor, to insist that they stay despite the near encounter with the Saviours. The sense of community she had developed had only grown stronger during the weeks that followed the herd evacuation. She had seen the way the community came together to grieve, comfort one another and then rebuild their home. That was what Lana wanted, what she had been wanting all along, and so she refused to leave.

Back then the threat of being forced to leave her behind had worked on Vetor, just not anymore.

Almost two weeks ago Rick and Richard's groups had met up in Washington, a meeting in which he had pledged Alexandria's allegiance. For him the decision was easy. He was making the first move, ensuring that Alexandria was ready and prepared to defend itself and attack first if necessary. But for Lana's group, the declaration of allegiance was the last thing they wanted to hear. They couldn't go to war with the Saviours, not without revealing what had happened and making everything worse. That night Vetor had decided they would leave soon, had resumed his slow work of pilfering supplies from the armoury and the Pantry. It should have been simple, the imminent war a definite sign that they needed to leave…but to his disbelief Lana began to stall him.

It was around this time that she realised something that had yet to make an appearance on schedule, her period. She put off taking a pregnancy test for as long as she could bear, procrastinating about it as she struggled to chose between wanting to leave and the possibility that she might need to stay a little longer. Eventually she couldn't want any longer, and after swiping a test from the Infirmary she went back to her room at Carol's place and did it. As she peed on the stick and then waited she reminded herself of how she used to be back when she was modelling, paranoid that she had fallen pregnant even though the most intimate thing she had done with someone was kiss or hold their hand. That's all this was…paranoia. She told herself that again and again, that the test would be negative and her period would come in a few more days. And then the test was positive. Her reaction had been rather underwhelming, and she simply sat there on the bathroom counter looking at the two blue lines, already trying to figure out how to fix this. She wasn't scared, she wasn't upset or angry…she just needed to fix it, that was all.

The next morning she went to see Denise, drinking half a pint of iced tea before going through the motions of another pregnancy test. When the result came back Lana was braced for it, she was prepared. All day now she had been rehearsing what she said next, practicing the words over and over in her head to respond to Denise's inevitable suggestion that they do an ultrasound.

"I don't need an ultrasound," she replied stoically. "I need to just nip this in the bud, right now."

She only had to count back once to figure out who the father was. She hadn't slept with Vetor since well before Christmas, that time he had cruelly told her he was responsible for Spencer's death, and she'd had her cycle after that. Since then the only man she had slept with was Daryl…the dates all made sense, all pointed to him. The knowledge that he was the father was the final indication that she could not tell Vetor about this. He would do the math, he would know it wasn't his, and he had figured it out last night just as quickly as she knew he would.

She had resigned herself to the fact that she had to leave Alexandria, that it was the only way to protect the people here that she cared about…but now she needed to postpone it. To her there was only one solution that she could live with, and that was to terminate the pregnancy. It wasn't personal, she liked Daryl a hell of a lot, but she was leaving Alexandria, going on the run from the Saviours. Now was not the time to be pregnant.

Certain of her decision she told Denise what she wanted, being a good patient and discussing all the options and talking them through, but she was firm in her decision. It was then that Denise gave her the tricky news, that Alexandria didn't have the medication she would need…but the Kingdom did. All she had to do now was wait a little longer for Carl's prearranged appointment. Lana would accompany him and the others to the Kingdom, and Denise would come with her to get what she needed. Denise would stand by her every step of the way, providing support and advice…until then she just had to be patient.

That was the reason she had been trying to stall Vetor, the reason she kept asking him for more time. She didn't want to tell him that she was pregnant to Daryl, she didn't want to ruin any chance they might have of reconciling their relationship in the future, but she needed time. There was no way that the Kingdom would provide her with any kind of treatment if she simply turned up there out of the blue. She knew how these things worked, for although Richard and the others knew her, it was Rick and Michonne that they trusted. She would need to be with them in order to get inside the Kingdom, so she simply had to wait.

Now though, it had all gone to shit. Vetor refused to wait any longer and forced her hand last night, and somehow Rick caught wind of it. Briefly she wondered if Mina had told him what they were planning, for she too had only reluctantly agreed to their plans, but there was no point in dwelling on it. Rick had reacted exactly as she had expected him too. He was angry that they were stealing from Alexandria and leaving in the middle of the night, frustrated that she hadn't come to him and asked for what she needed. He would have given it to her had she asked for it…they could have avoided all of this had it not been for Vetor and his refusal to wait any longer. It was his fault she had to tell everyone about her situation, his fault that everything had become so fucked up. He ruined things everywhere he went…yet somehow she still loved him, she still wanted to be with him.

Over two hours had been spent at his house last night, him interrogating her for every detail big and small, demanding she draw maps, floor plans, watch points, listing all the names and the hierarchy. All in all she had told him everything, keeping quiet on only a few details that she knew didn't matter, that she knew she couldn't tell anyone.

She was exhausted by it, not physically, but mentally, emotionally. She could see the way they were looking at her, like she had just dropped a flaming bag of dog shit on their door step, which she supposed she had. But at the end of it Carol and Tobin ushered her home, letting her return to their home as if nothing was amiss. That morning when she failed to make an appearance at breakfast Carol had opened her bedroom door, promptly telling her to get up before opening the drapes and yanking the duvet off her. Though having been up half the night should have entitled her to sleep well into the afternoon she was grateful for Carol, that she cared enough to not let her hide away like she wanted to.

Only adding to her turmoil was Daryl, the man in question making his way down the street to her. He had just appeared around the corner of the townhouses, and she didn't waste time hoping that he was going somewhere else. He walked with the air of a man walking to his execution, dragging his feet and wishing he were anywhere else but there, but to his credit he didn't falter. They hadn't spoken a single word to one another since last night, not even when he was there at Rick's house listening to her give account of her time with the Saviours.

God, the look on his face last night, the sheer astonishment mixed with fear. She expected nothing from him, she wasn't asking for his input, and that look on his face had only been part of the reason. But then at the end he had stepped up for her, intervening just as she was about to crumble to Vetor's demands. He stepped in and decided they would sleep on it, he bought her some time.

The last thing she wanted to do was face him after last night, but if he was coming this way there would only be one reason. As if he shared her reluctance to have this conversation he seemed to be dragging his feet as he walked, hands dangling awkwardly by his side until he raised one to scratch the side of his face. She suspected that he too hadn't gotten much sleep last night, that even if he went to bed he would have laid awake staring at the ceiling. If things had played out the way she wanted them to he never would have known she was pregnant, he never would have had to deal with this shit too. Having intended to spare him from this, she hadn't exactly prepared herself to have this conversation.

What was she supposed to say? _I'm so sorry you knocked me up that I'm getting rid of it without even telling you?_ She didn't know how well he'd take that.

As he came closer Lana placed her foot on the floor and stopped the swing from moving, and then she got to her feet. She crossed the porch and came to the step, catching the way Daryl looked up at her in surprise, wondering where she was going. But instead of leaving and trying to avoid him, she sat down in the centre of the porch steps. It was a clear signal that he was not being invited inside, that she was keeping him at arms length. Getting the hint, Daryl slowed to a stop when he reached the pavement before her, but he didn't come any closer. There was an awkward silence now, the two of them as uncomfortable as the other. Without warning she started to feel nervous…none of this was his fault. She had come on to him that day, she had initiated the relationship knowing full well that it could get messy for him. Carrie had warned her about this, she had warned her not to hurt Daryl…and that's exactly what she had done.

As that thought occurred to her she recognised the expression on his face, the way he averted his gaze and hid behind the wisps of hair that covered his eyes. He was trying to disconnected, to lessen the hurt that she had already inflicted. Feeling worse and worse about it all, Lana opened her pack of cigarettes and then held them out to him. It was a simple gesture that spoke volumes. Cigarettes these days were a hot commodity, rarely shared or given away…today, hers were a peace offering of sorts, a way to break the ice.

Recognising the gesture for what it was, Daryl seemed to visibly brace himself before coming closer, and with a low murmur of thanks he plucked one out of the box and then dug around in his pockets for his lighter. He looked marginally more comfortable now to have something in his hands, particularly something so familiar and comforting. When he took that first awaited draw his shoulders softened a little, and he stopped nervously shifting his weight between his feet. But the moment of peace lasted on for that, a moment. Now he was looking at her uncomfortably, his gaze having falling on her own cigarette that she had just lit. She sighed on the inside, realising the root of his discomfort. Her pregnancy.

"I'm not keeping it," she said bluntly, raising the cigarette to her lips. Hadn't she made that clear last night?

Daryl nodded slowly, his eyes darting away. "Okay."

At the sound of his voice her heart sank…she'd never heard him sound like that. Disappointed. Against her better judgement, she asked a question that she feared the answer to. "Do you want me to keep it?"

He didn't make eye contact. "It's mine then, is it?"

She didn't resent that he asked the question. "Yes."

Still he avoided eye contact, but he seemed to nod in acknowledgement of what she said. "Alright then…"

"Alright then, what?"

This time he said nothing at all, unwilling to commit to a position, not that she was surprised. Figuring there was nothing more to say she looked away and then took a long draw from the cigarette, holding the taste and flavour in her mouth and relishing it. From the corner of her eye she was watching him, waiting for him to turn around and leave. She'd made her decision, and he was unwilling to commit to a position on the matter. There was nothing more for them to say, was there?

"How yah feelin'?"

She blinked at him. "What?" she questioned, and not because he had mumbled.

"How are you feeling?" he repeated, enunciating the words clearly. With a bite of impatience he raised his head and looked at her directly, awaiting her answer. "You sick or anythin'?"

Still she was surprised, but she managed an answer. "I'm alright. Don't feel sick."

"How many weeks are yah?"

She shrugged, having not given it much thought until now. Taking a moment to count she settled on her best estimate. "Four, maybe five."

He nodded to acknowledge what she had said, but seemed to have nothing more to say. The awkward silence resumed, and Lana resisted the urge to tap her foot on the step. She looked around impatiently, wishing that someone else would come along and interrupt them, that she could find some ready made excuse to flee the conversation and hide away again, but one came. Inside her was a growing sense of frustration, making her feel like her hands were literally tied, that there was nothing she could do about anything. Things just kept happening, and she had no control or influence over them…she didn't know what to do about any of it, and no one would tell her what the right decision was.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked him directly, determined to get an answer out of him.

"Ain't up to me."

"It affects you."

"Yeah," he nodded, starting to avoid eye contact again. "But you gotta do what you gotta do."

"So…you don't care either way?"

He gave no reply but for an awkward shrug of the shoulders, still refusing to commit to a position. "Just…" he began, trailing off as he regained his train of thought. "Just don't do nothin' cos you think you're gonna fix him."

"Who?" she enquired, though it was clear who he referred to. "Vetor?"

Nodding, he continued. "Ain't nothin' change men like him, not even a baby."

"I know," she sighed, noting that her answer came as a surprise to him. He looked at her peculiarly, having perhaps thought she wasn't self aware enough to understand Vetor. "Why do you think I'm here living with Carol and not him? I know he won't change."

"So…you done with him then?"

At this she looked him in the eye, concerned about where this was heading. She and Daryl knew what their relationship was and what it wasn't…he shouldn't care what happened between she and Vetor. "What difference does it make to you?"

"I dunno," he mumbled, pawing the ground with the toe of his boot. Finished with his cigarette he bent down and dragged the butt along the asphalt, extinguishing it before slipping it into his pocket.

"You said you weren't bringing me flowers," she reminded him.

"It's a little different now, don't yah think?"

"No," she said bluntly. "It's not different."

It was clear he hadn't expected that, that he wasn't prepared for an outright rejection, for that's exactly what it was. Her being pregnant hadn't changed anything between them, the parameters of their relationship were the same. They slept together to have a little fun, and so that Lana could make Vetor jealous. They both knew what this was, they both knew when it was time to get dressed and leave after sex…had that changed for him?

"Me being knocked up doesn't mean we go riding off into the sunset on the back of your bike."

He nodded in agreement, still pawing the ground with the toe of his boot. "Don't mean we gotta be assholes about it either," he muttered, clearly a dig at her attitude. "Things are different now. They gotta be."

Her hands feeling restless, Lana picked up her pack of cigarettes and opened it, but when he saw what she was doing Daryl stepped forward. He held out his own pack to her, sharing his in exchange for what he had already received. Being gracious, she took one and thanked him for it. In much the same vein he seemed happier now too, going about the familiar ritual of bringing it to his lips and lighting up.

"I'm starting to think…" he began conversationally, looking up towards the nearby walls. "I'm starting to think it weren't such a good idea to take all them risks."

Feeling a sudden swell of lightheartedness, Lana laughed as she remembered the first time in question. They been outside the walls when they had come across one another, and upon finding a nearby car that was secure enough they took advantage of their opportunity, contraception be damned. After that it just easier and easier to take the risks again, to rely on him pulling out in time.

"Well…shit happens."

Nodding in agreement, Daryl started shifting his weight between his feet again. "You think this is the first time this shit happened to me?"

It didn't take a genuine to figure out what he was getting at. This wasn't the first time he'd dealt with an unplanned pregnancy. He was trying to be supportive…he was trying to talk this through with her. "What happened then?"

"One of them got rid of it," he said simply, though his voice softened when he continued. "Other one was stillborn…ain't never known why."

 _Fuck_ , she thought to herself, feeling horrible for him. What was she supposed to say now? "Boy or girl?"

"Boy…she called him Tristan."

Silence fell between them yet again, one that Lana sought desperately to fill. Talking to him wasn't making any of this clearer for her, in fact it was making it worse. Why had he told her about that, about his son? Was he trying to make her feel bad? Was he trying to change her mind? Or was he, as she suspected, just trying to talk this through any way they could?

"Rick's taking Carl to the Kingdom on Thursday," she said, trying to fill the silence. "I'm going with them so I can see Brea and Mak." She didn't need to clarify why.

"I'm comin' with yah."

"You don't have to do that," she said gently, not wanting him involved anymore than he had to be. "You don't have to do anything."

"I know I don't, but I will," he insisted, scratching the back of his head. "Was going anyway…you know, as back up out there."

"Right. Thanks," she added, not wanting to sound ungrateful. She had tried to keep him uninvolved from any of this, to spare him the headache, but if he genuinely wanted to accompany her then she ought to let him.

"What about after?" he asked now, peering at her. "You goin' off with _him_?"

To this, Lana took a moment to respond. Despite having kept it together so far, now felt a great lump in her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she stopped them before it became obvious. "Vetor left this morning," she said tightly, clearing her throat so that she could properly speak. "Don't pretend you weren't there kicking him through the gate."

"He ain't gone…not really."

"What do you mean?" she said urgently, feeling her heart lift. _He wasn't gone?_

"He's only gone to one of the safe houses. He's just layin' low for a while."

At this her heart sank back to where it was before. Vetor had left, but at the same time he hadn't…he was waiting for her, and she didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. "How'd you convince him to do that?" To Vetor, staying in the safe house that had been prepared by someone else would be akin to accepting charity, something he was too prideful to bear.

"His idea," Daryl answered. "Must be stickin' close for some reason."

They both knew the implications of Vetor's decision, that there was the possibility he was sticking around just to wait until Lana had taken care of what she needed to. Him staying close to Alexandria was a signal to her that not all was lost. He was willing to wait for her, but smart enough to know that his name was mud in Alexandria, that he was no longer welcomed there. Maybe it wasn't all bad…maybe once she had taken care of this problem like she intended to, she could return to Vetor and everything would be okay.

Or maybe she'd return to him, and nothing would change.

"Whatever yah do, just don't do it cos yah think it'll make him happy," Daryl instructed, twirling his cigarette around between his fingers. "And you gotta decide right away."

"I have to go with him," she said lowly, wanting to be upfront with her intentions. It wasn't to Daryl's benefit that he start getting his hopes up about anything. "And not just because of him. The Saviours…if they found us here, it will just make things worse for Alexandria."

There was a heavy pause as Daryl mulled over her response. "You wanna stay?"

"What I want doesn't matter."

"You ain't been kicked out. You ain't gonna be, neither. You wanna stay here, you can stay."

At this she scoffed under her breath, bringing the cigarette to her lips. "I'm not so sure Rick would agree."

"He's the one who said it."

"He did?"

Daryl looked at her strangely now, surprised with her. "You don't do a lot o' listening, do yah girl?"

"No, I guess not," she muttered, her mind whirling. Daryl was right. Rick had told her she could stay if she wanted to.

"Maybe you outta try it out for once," he said roughly, looking impatient with the whole conversation. "You don't gotta leave, and you don't gotta do what anyone says…not me, not Rick, not _him_."

"And what should I do then, huh?" she questioned, the sting of hurt and anger entering her voice now. "I'm twenty three, pregnant, and my group either hates me or hurts me…or both. What am I supposed to do with that?"

Her question seemed to frustrate Daryl, his features twisting in annoyance as he shook his head in disdain. "Mina and Mitchell, they fuckin' stayed for you," he started, lecturing her. "Could'a gone off with him, but they stayed here waiting for you to decide what yah wan'. And they ain't the only ones you got rootin' for you," he finished, sounding surprisingly hurt.

"Then what?" she fired back, feeling her throat tightening again. "Once the Saviours have slaughtered half of us, a best case scenario by the way, we're just gonna…what?" she asked, looking at him pointedly. "You gonna stick around? Raise a kid in whatever shack we build, change diapers, keep Walkers away when it cries…you gonna do all that?"

He seemed angry with her now, his jaw flexed and lips twisted into a scowl, but she didn't feel afraid of him. His anger stemmed from hurt, that much she could see already. "Won't be the first fucking time I done any o' that. And it's about fuckin' time you opened your ears and listened, girl. You wanna fuck off with him and go back to eating worms, go right ahead," he snarled, tossing his cigarette butt to the ground at her feet, leaving it for her to clean up. "But ain't no one forcing you to do anything."

Turning on his heel he left without another word, shoulders hunched and head bowed as he strode away. She had no doubt that this conversation was likely to be his only input into the matter, that the next step was up to her. Moving down to the lower step she reached down and picked up the cigarette butt he had discarded, feeling the heat from where it had been burning, the warmth from his lips. She turned it over in her fingertips again and again, her decision slowly becoming clearer and clearer to her.

She knew what she wanted to do, what she needed to…but she wasn't ready to say goodbye.

* * *

A/N I hope you enjoyed the twist - Pretty PLEASE leave a review for me to get excited about :-)


	36. Chapter 36

Wednesday, February 18

By now the snow was almost completely gone, something that disappointed Carrie but came as a relief to Rick. Though he had enjoyed the novelty of watching the kids playing in the snow, he was by nature more accustomed to the sticky and uncomfortable heat of Georgia summers, not a Washington winter. These days he spent most of his time shivering and quietly complaining about the chill in the air, snuggling up to Carrie in the middle of the night in an effort to stay warm.

She on the other hand had been enjoying the brief snow they got that year, having always looked forward to seeing Manhattan city dusted with snow, brilliant white adorning the trees in Central Park and making it look like a wonderland. Here in Washington she was so close to her home town that they could make it with a day of driving, but the risk was far too great simply just to fulfil her nostalgic desires. Making her way home from the Pantry with three new tubes of toothpaste, Carrie made a point of stepping on the remaining clumps of snow, even though by now they were nothing more than grey mush. Nevertheless she took what she could get, longing for next winter when she wouldn't have to watch from the sidelines as Rick and the kids went sledding.

Taking the long way home, she kept up a brisk pace and enjoyed the way her heart pounded in her chest. There were a lot of things she missed right now, a glass of wine, sledding in the snow, but the opportunity to go for a spirited jog was top five. She knew that it was probably okay, she was healthy enough overall, but she doubted that she still had the balance and coordination to go jogging safely. Her centre of gravity felt different, and she found herself stumbling occasionally or briefly losing her balance…God what she wouldn't give for this baby to be born already. She had four more weeks to go, that was all….four more weeks.

On the street ahead of her was Carl, Enid, Glenn, Maggie and baby Herschel, everyone laughing uproariously as Glenn tried and failed to do a trick on the skateboard. Loosing his footing the board flew out from under him, Enid chasing it down and expertly hopping aboard, completing the very trick he had been attempting. Carl applauded her before taking his turn, and out of habit he pushed up the sunglasses he was wearing, a new look he was trialling now he didn't need a bandage.

As she drew nearer Carrie smiled at their antics, but it was to Herschel and Maggie she paid the most attention. While Maggie sat on the curb Herschel was sitting between her legs, and despite his snow suit making him look like the Michelin man he was a lump of pure charm. He was beaming at her while she approached, showing off the tiny tooth that had finally erupted on his bottom gum.

"I noticed Judy is at Carol's place today," Maggie commented.

Grateful that she could nod affirmatively, Carrie slowed to a stop. "She come over this morning and offered to baby sit. Said I should be putting my feet up, not chasing her around."

"That's true," Maggie agreed sympathetically.

"Did you, uh…did you talk to her?" she asked tentatively, unsure if she wanted to know the answer. She had voiced her concerns about Carol a couple of days ago, relieved to find that Maggie felt the same way, that she too had noticed a change.

"I did. Not anything specific, I just asked how she was doing. Said she didn't seem herself lately."

"What did she say?"

"She agreed," Maggie answered. "I think maybe the world's just getting her down."

"Maybe," Carrie muttered, hastily apologising when Herschel admonished her for not paying attention to him. Taking a risk she lowered herself down into a squat and tickled his rosy red cheeks, admiring his tooth again when Maggie pulled his lip down to show her. "Maybe Rick was right."

"Don't say that too loud."

"He did say I was reading too much into it, that I was taking it personally. If the world is just getting her down, we've all been there."

"You know, I think with Carol it's…" Maggie began, trailing off as she collected her thoughts. "When I found out I was pregnant and Glenn was on the supply run to Georgia, Carol was there for me. She was there for me all through the preeclampsia, when I was struggling to breastfeed. And she was there for you after Pete," she said gently, apologetically bringing up his name. "Maybe now she's just being there for Lana. She probably suspected something was wrong a long time ago."

"Okay, but who's there for Carol?" It was a question for both of them…for all of them.

"She's knows we are," she assured her. "We had a good talk."

"Thanks Maggie. I…I appreciate it."

Without further preamble she started to get up, but to her frustration she realised that crouching down this far had been a terrible mistake. Losing all semblance of dignity she somehow managed to get back to her feet, but her knees and lower back ached in protest, reminding her that she was still yet to do her yoga for today. Four days after Denise confirmed the baby was breech, and still no luck with coaxing it to turn over.

"You okay?" Carrie asked, noticing a strange look on Maggie's face.

"Just praying real hard that Glenn doesn't break anything."

"I heard that," Glenn called out, soaring by on the skateboard before executing a near perfect flip. While Carl and Enid cheered and shouted _finally_ , Glenn turned back to Maggie with a smile. "Anything to say?"

"You can still change diapers with a broken leg."

Leaving them all to it Carrie returned home, keeping an eye on the time. Rick and Daryl were currently out taking watch, probably scouring the highways to ensure they had safe passage on their way to the Kingdom. Today was Carl's one month check up following his return home, and the group travelling with him would be staying maybe a few nights. It would all depend on how things went with Lana, on whatever decision she made about her pregnancy. This was a subject that Carrie had been trying not to think about, knowing that while it was really none of her business, all she wanted to do was butt in and make her own opinion heard. Being pregnant herself didn't mean she had much insight into the decision Lana was facing now…while she had struggled to accept her pregnancy when she had first learned of it, she had a much stronger support system than Lana. With that in mind, she had avoided the temptation to butt in.

When she closed the front door she went into the living room and revelled in the silence, knowing she was going to have to get used to it. It was going to be strange having Rick, Carl and Daryl gone again, for she had just gotten used to having a full house once more. She was used to the noise, to the extra cleaning and tidying up that was necessary with additional people…and now they were going away. In a couple of hours it would just be her and Judith, the two girls hanging out and passing the time until their family returned.

Needing to get on with things she fetched a basket of clean clothes from the laundry and then braced herself before climbing the stairs, something that was quite the workout lately. Going all the way up to the attic she stopped in the threshold of Daryl's bedroom and took a breather, her heart pumping in exertion, and then she got started. With Rick and Daryl both out doing whatever it was they were doing there wasn't going to be much time for them to pack, not if they wanted to depart on schedule. They wanted to leave by two o'clock at the very latest, allowing themselves more than enough time to make it to the Kingdom before night began to fall in the late afternoon. Conscious of this, Carrie made a point of being organised, happily going about the task of packing their bags on their behalf. There wasn't a hell of a lot else she had going on today…

In his room she bustled around and found the bag he used on long trips, packing it with the clothing she knew he preferred, tossing in his toothbrush and paste she'd taken from his bathroom downstairs. He didn't need much to get by, likely he'd return with most of his clothing unworn, but that didn't matter to Carrie, as long as he had the option. Not worried about being too neat she simply stuffed his things in, wishing that she didn't know he went commando…it was just one of those things a person learnt when doing laundry for the whole house.

Rushing through the task, for all she really wanted to do was put her feet up again, Carrie hastily packed a bag for both Rick and Carl, leaving each of them sitting on their beds for them to add anything else into. Satisfied that the most time consuming part of the job was done and that they would leave on schedule she kicked off her shoes and put her fluffy slippers back on, rather intent on wearing only these for the next few months. With plans to kick back with a cup of tea and a book she hastened back downstairs, but when she reached the foot of the stairs and looked to the front of the house she stopped in her tracks, rendered frozen in surprise by the sight of the person at the front door.

Awkwardly lingering outside the front door was Lana, her arms folded as she paced back and forth a few steps. She looked anxious about something, not that it was any surprise given the circumstances of recent days, but it made Carrie worry for her. Since the revelation that she had been a part of the Saviours, that she had been married to Negan, Lana and her group had been keeping a low profile in the community. Though few knew of her pregnancy, everyone knew of her history, what forced them to flee the Sanctuary…perhaps the only saving grace for them was that Vetor had finally taken a hint and left, though it grated on Carrie's nerves that he was only a few miles away. Enjoying the hospitality of one of their safe houses he was waiting for Lana, Mina and Mitchell to join him, presumably after she had terminated her pregnancy to which he wanted no part of. There was no proof that he had anything to do with Spencer's death, but even setting that aside Carrie hoped for the news that he had been taken down by a Walker, that the world had done them all a favour.

As if she could hear this thought Lana suddenly looked up, jolting in surprise when she realised Carrie was standing in the living area watching her. Horror and embarrassment crossed her face, her cheeks flushing with pink as she stood there with her mouth agape, and were the situation different Carrie probably would have laughed at her. Instead she simply raised her hand in a non-threatening wave, a gesture of treaty, of welcome. But to her disappointment the gesture backfired, and as if she had been scared away Lana turned on her heel and disappeared, fleeing across the porch and down the steps before Carrie could even react.

"Dammit, Lana," she muttered under her breath, moving to the front door to watch as Lana strode back up the street. What had she come there for? Was she looking for Daryl? For her?

Answering her question Lana suddenly stopped in her tracks, her shoulders heaving for a moment before she turned on her heel and back tracked, returning to Carrie's house as quickly as she had left. Standing at the door Carrie saw the look of determination and nerves in Lana's eyes, an expression she hadn't seen before, but to her credit she didn't falter this time. Returning to face whatever she had come for Lana ascended to the porch and looked at Carrie who was cautiously opening the door to her.

"I wasn't casing the joint," Lana blurted out, her voice louder than necessary. "E-even if I was, you're the only person here who locks your damn doors."

Not wanting to get into the reason she made a habit of locking doors, Carrie took a slow breath, ensuring that her tone of voice would calm Lana down. She seemed even more nervous now, words tumbling from her lips before she could really think them though. "I believe you," she said gently. "Are you looking for Daryl?"

"No," she said bluntly, her brow furrowing. "He went out hours ago."

"So you're…looking for me?"

There was silence now, but to both their relief Lana didn't blurt out another hurried thought. Instead she seemed to take her time now, her features softening as she slowly nodded her head.

"Do you want a cookie and some really bad instant coffee?"

Another pause came to pass, and then Lana nodded again. "Yeah…that sounds nice. Thanks," she added as Carrie welcomed her inside. Already knowing how she took her coffee she headed into the kitchen and set a pot onto the stove, the water heating while she prepared two mugs with dried coffee and sugar. As she stood back and waited for the water to boil she cast her eyes over Lana, who had seated herself on one of the the kitchen stools. She leant forward with her elbows on the counter but her face turned away, avoiding Carrie's gaze in favour of looking around the living areas.

"Sugar?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Aren't I sweet enough?"

On the inside Carrie smiled, glad that Lana had responded the way she did, and then she muttered, under her breath. "Ten sugars for you then."

From the other side of the kitchen Lana rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath. But even after weeks of icy encounters followed by outright avoidance it seemed to be enough to break the ice between them, and after the brief spar they both relaxed a little. While the water started to boil Carrie took out a plate and added some chocolate chip cookies to it, but it wasn't until she opened the refrigerator that her mouth began to water. On the top shelf was a small container of left over gravy from their meal last night, and if Lana wasn't right there Carrie would have dipped her finger in, knowing full well how delicious it had tasted.

"Come sit down," she offered as she passed Lana her mug, gesturing to the living room. "It's warmer."

A little too polite to be herself, Lana took her mug and the plate too, carrying it into the living room and setting it down onto the coffee table. Following her in Carrie braced herself for whatever teasing was about to ensue, and she set her mug down before fetching her large gym ball. Rolling it over she caught the way Lana looked at it in amusement, barely keeping her smirk to herself as she watched Carrie sitting down on it, but to her credit she didn't say anything.

"The coffee's nice," Lana complimented, still overly polite.

"Thank you."

Pushing the plate of cookies to the corner of the coffee table where Carrie could reach them, Lana took another sip of her coffee and then balanced it on her knee. There was silence but for the occasional sound of a sip or a cookie crunching, the two women unsure of what to say or who should start. So much had been going on lately, and though Carrie knew almost all of the details there was the unspoken understanding that none of it was actually her business.

Rick had made his decision perfectly clear to the community as a whole, having acknowledged Lana and her group's history with the Saviours before declaring that they were Alexandrian's now. For as long as they wanted to stay they were a part of the community, they would be protected and homed here for as long as they wished. He had refused to hear any argument against it, and there sure as hell had been some arguments, but thankfully those seemed to die down pretty quickly. Nevertheless, as quickly as they had been welcomed into Alexandria they became social pariahs, tainted by their history.

The night she came down and found Lana sitting at the dining room table Rick had been in mid-interrogation, drilling her for all the details she could provide about the Saviours. He wanted to know everything she could relay, how the Sanctuary was run, who the people were, the hierarchy, their skills and weapons, the other communities they targeted. Simultaneously Mitchell, Mina and Vetor were elsewhere in the community, separated from one another and answering the same questions, drawing the map to the Sanctuary and various outposts and the floor plans of the building. A great deal of information had been gleamed, Alexandria learning more about their enemy in one night than the Kingdom had learned in over a year. While many saw the discovery of Lana's past as something terrible, Rick and the others saw it as a miracle…this information could mean all the difference in the impending war for freedom.

Already there was the worrying spectre that the Saviours knew where Alexandria was, that they were just biding their time before attacking them, but they didn't know what Alexandria knew about them. They didn't know that the three communities they would have under their thumb were already aware of one another, already conspiring together…and they had the perfect reconnaissance. Today when he went to the Kingdom for Carl's final check up with the doctors Rick would be sharing this information with Richard and his group, fuelling their confidence and enabling them to start forming a game plan. They would be taking the first step towards freedom…when the time and plan were right, they would act on it, they would take the Saviours out.

"Your kid is like a fucking tornado," Lana suddenly commented, sounding exasperated. "She's everywhere, you know?"

Carrie managed a laugh, knowing this all too well. "Yeah, that's my Judy."

"She doesn't shut up, either. No offence," she added.

"None taken," Carrie assured her. "She's been chatty lately. I'd say she'd talk underwater given half the chance."

"My sisters were like that," Lana added, she herself starting to talk excessively. "They'd go under the water talking, and they'd come back up still going. Dad used to call them Noise Pollution One and Two…they even answered to it."

Though Carrie chuckled and tried to keep things lighthearted, very quickly the silence resumed…whatever had brought Lana here wasn't going to rise to the surface without a little probing. "Lana," she began tentatively, breaking the long silence. "Are you doing okay?"

Immediately her features brightened, but thankfully she didn't pretend everything was alright. "Who the fuck knows?" she exclaimed jokingly, trying to be funny. But a moment later all humour was gone, though she still tried to smile through it, trying to keep it together. "I told you he'd do it…that he'd leave me one day."

There was no need to clarify that she was talking about Vetor. "I'm sorry that he's gone."

"No you're not," Lana shot back straight away, her voice darkening now. Taking a sip of her coffee she settled back into the couch, crossing her leg over the other.

"No, I'm not," Carrie admitted, figuring it was better to be honest. "But I am sorry that it's hurt you."

There was a pause now, Lana looking almost surprised by what Carrie had said. Had no one acknowledged what she was going through until now? It didn't matter that everyone disapproved of their relationship, that they all thought she was better off without Vetor. She loved him, and right now she was in pain.

"He's only at a safe house," Lana said, trying to sound as though she had it all sorted out. "He's just waiting for me. Once I'm done at the Kingdom, I'm leaving too."

Carrie paused, uncomfortable with the acknowledgement of why Lana was going to the Kingdom. But although she had her opinions about that, her opinion had not been asked for. "I wish you weren't leaving."

"No you don't."

"I do. I wish that you'd stay in Alexandria."

Lana raised her eyebrows, and then pushed at her again. "Even if I got rid of _it_?" she questioned, challenging her.

At this she paused, she had to. "What you do about your pregnancy is none of my business," she acknowledged, though she was dying to tell Lana that she was making a mistake. "But I stand by what I said. Alexandria is your home, and I wish you were staying."

Apparently ignoring everything she had just heard, Lana took a sip of her coffee and then leant forward for a cookie. "These look good. Carol must have made them, huh?"

"I made them," she replied with a smile, knowing how Lana liked to tease her for her cooking, even when it was completely unfounded. "So, what's the deal with Mitchell and Mina? Are they staying or going?"

"They're, uhhh…they're waiting for me," she stated. "We're even on speaking terms again."

"So, they want to go too?"

At this Lana paused, and then she avoided that particular question. "Once I'm done at the Kingdom we'll meet Vetor at the safe house, and then we'll go. Rick's giving us a car, some supplies. We can set up somewhere far away, make our own place."

"You didn't answer my question. Do they want to go too?"

She looked uncomfortable, and she made a point of averting her eyes. "I don't know," she admitted. "I think they're a little undecided now. They've been trying to talk me into staying."

On the inside Carrie rejoiced, but she kept her expression neutral. "What would that mean for you?"

Still not looking at her, Lana shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know."

"Is going to the Kingdom tomorrow really the right thing to do?"

"I'm going," she stated firmly, looking her in the eye now. Her tone changed, and she now appeared more resolute than ever. "Mina and Mitchell just want to have their say, that's all.

"So, you've decided what you're going to do?"

"Yeah," Lana nodded, her voice sounding a little high pitched. She looked at Carrie nonchalantly, eating the last piece of her cookie. "It's what's best."

"Best for who?"

It seemed this was a question Lana didn't want to answer, which made Carrie question even more the reasons behind her decision. It took everything she had to not launch into a tirade of advice, to not start insisting that Lana refuse to terminate her pregnancy, to not terrify her with the possibility she would regret it. Instead she chose her words carefully, trying to empower her decision making rather than bully her into someone else's opinion.

"You know, you don't have to decide this straight away. How far along are you?"

She shrugged. "Four or five weeks, I think."

"But you're-"

"I'm definitely pregnant," she cut her off. "I peed on a stick, can't fuck that up."

"It could have been a false positive."

Lana shook her head. "No, Denise made me do another test. Made me pee into a cup, like that ain't gross as fuck. Thank God she didn't put it into the fridge, Tara might have thought we had apple juice again."

Carrie laughed at the joke, though mainly for Lana's benefit rather than amusement. "All I'm trying to say," she began lightly, trying not to sound as if she was lecturing her. "Is that you don't need to decide right now. You've got time."

"Did you think about it?" Lana asked gently. She looked at Carrie in apprehension, perhaps unsure if she really wanted to get in to this.

"Briefly," she admitted, figuring it was best to be truthful. "I thought about a lot of things…a lot of things I'm glad didn't happen."

"Well it's easy for you," Lana dismissed, kicking off her shoes and pulling her feet up onto the couch. She was settling in and making herself comfortable…she wanted to talk. "I don't have a husband. I don't have a family."

On the inside Carrie cringed, hating that Lana was willing to leave Alexandria for people who she didn't even consider to be family. "If something happened and Rick never came home again, I'd still be okay. I wouldn't be alone with this baby, not for a second. And neither would you."

At this, Lana seemed to turn sheepish. "Yeah, I know. Daryl said the same thing."

"When Daryl makes that kind of observation he's usually right…he's very annoying that way."

Though she managed a small laugh, Lana turned her gaze into her mug of coffee, taking a few moments to think. Letting her take her time Carrie reached forward and took another cookie from the plate, and as she took a bite she started to think it could use a little something else…how would just a smear of mayonnaise go on this cookie? They had plenty of the sachets she liked, Carl had helped her hoard them in the closet beneath the stairs.

Lana sat up a little straighter, staring at Carrie incredulously. "I can't take this any more. What the hell are you sitting on?"

"It's a gym ball."

"But why?"

Carrie sighed, having not anticipated getting into an in depth discussion about her baby with a woman who planned on terminating her own. "It's comfortable, and helps with posture. I'm trying to get the baby to turn over."

"Ohh, it's breech?" she asked in great interest. "My brother was born like that, and I swear he was one giant fuck up. Must be something about getting things wrong on day one."

"Well, that's what we're trying to avoid. I have to spend a lot of time upside down with my feet in the air."

"Well, at least they're not too swollen," Lana complimented, surprisingly supportive.

Carrie grinned. "Not when you get two foot rubs a day. Three if I cry before breakfast."

"I'm impressed," Lana praised. "Sounds like you've got it all sorted out."

"Mostly."

Like usual the silence fell again, leaving them both to mull over what had already been said. As she let the silence linger Carrie looked into her mug of coffee, and although it wasn't the nicest tasting she was disappointed that she was almost finished. Once Lana was done with hers there would be less reason to stay. They had talked already, not that much had been changed or achieved, though that likely wasn't what Lana had come here for. In all likelihood she was lonely, trying to pass the time with a somewhat friendly face. Though they hadn't spoken for some time, there had to have been something good between them that encouraged Lana to come here today, something that told her it was okay to seek her out as a friend.

"I'm dying to know," Carrie finally began, figuring she ought to ask her question before Lana tried to make her inevitable departure. "What was Negan like?"

Surprised, Lana slowly looked up at her. "What do you care?"

"He's a threat to us. All that we've heard about him makes it sound like he's the big bad wolf who's going to come and blow our straw house down."

"I already told Rick everything."

"You didn't tell me."

In spite of her reluctance, Lana answered loquaciously. "Negan was horrible. He was cruel, sadistic. He enjoys what he does to people, he likes them being afraid of him, he likes the power…but he's also perfectly normal too."

"How so?" Carrie pressed, more and more interested to hear this.

"He treated my group well," Lana shrugged, sipping her coffee to buy herself a few moments. "We were strangers and he let us into the Sanctuary, he gave us options…he didn't even take it personally when none of us wanted to be his wife. And when I changed my mind about that, he didn't hold it against me."

It was the latter Carrie couldn't get out of her head, the concept of Negan's _wives_. "So he just has a…a harem?"

"It's a free country," Lana shrugged, not thinking much of it. "There were five when I left, including me. He's probably got more by now. If Sherri's still alive, she'll be one of the new ones."

"How do you know that?"

"If she and Dwight went back there, marrying Negan would have been her only option to keep Dwight alive."

"They defected, didn't they? Like you did?"

"Yeah. They never did so well as workers. Tina was a diabetic, and her medication cost a lot of points, so they were always in debt to someone." Lana paused, looking at Carrie in scrutiny. "It wasn't so bad."

"Being Negan's wife?" she questioned. "Being one of his _many_?"

"It sound disgusting…it is disgusting. But he treated us well. He never hurt us, never abused us…if you didn't want to have sex with him you didn't have to fake a headache. His ego could take the rejection, and there was always another wife willing to put out."

"I just…I don't get it," Carrie sighed, even though that was far from the truth. In reality she understood perfectly well…sometimes all you had to bargain with was your own body and someone else's lust for it. What these women did was no different to what she did with Granger's group, though it felt wildly different. While they got luxuries and a comfortable life in exchange for sex, she was tormented and abused, Granger's group not living up to their end of the agreement.

"The Saviours aren't all bad. They can be weirdly respectful sometimes, like opening doors for me and shit. Negan would look after someone like you."

Carrie frowned, surprised by the disdain in Lana's voice as she made that last remark. "Why would he look after me? Am I wife material?"

"Anyone with tits and a half decent body is wife material, it doesn't mean you're special," Lana muttered. "He'd look after you because you're pregnant."

At this her heart faltered, and she resisted the instinct to place her hands over her belly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Not even the Saviours want to die out. They're thinking to the future too," she stated simply. "You think you and Maggie are the only women repopulating the earth? All that sex going on, they've popped out a couple of babies in that place."

Again Carrie cringed, unable to stand the thought of being married to a person like Negan, let alone having a baby to him. "That's…horrible," she said, unable to find the right adjective to adequately sum up her disgust.

"Not really," Lana argued. "Pregnant chicks there get free medical care, extra rations for their points, they get a decent mattress. They're looked after, kids never go hungry. Like I said, they'd look after you. Negan's not so bad if you forget about all the other stuff."

"You mean like robbing communities, burning faces, beating people to death with his baseball bat?"

"Lucille," Lana corrected her. "The bat's name is Lucille."

Carrie rolled her eyes. "That's so juvenile."

"Be sure to mention that to him," she replied sarcastically. "I'm sure he'll have a counter argument of some kind."

Realising that she was being a little insensitive, that she had no justification to make light of Negan and what he did, Carrie softly muttered an apology. For a few moments she sat in silence and tried to take it all in, still wrapping her head around it even after having been learning more and more about Negan over the last few weeks. As she thought she looked up at Lana, imaging her as one of the many wives, dressed in nice clothing and with her hair blow dried, spending her days waiting around until Negan sought her out for sex. Though their two situations were starkly different, with Carrie having endured greater violence at what felt like her own naivety, they weren't so different. Both of them had their free will and autonomy taken from them, someone else making use of their body without care for the harm it caused them.

"I get it now," Carrie began gently. "I get what you said before…about the things you had to do for your people."

Lana looked up at her, but her features remained impassive. For a long moment she simply stared at Carrie, holding her gaze before slouching back into the couch and turning away. Her mouth twisted into a grimace, but just as quickly her expression faded back to neutral. However voluntary becoming Negan's wife had been on the surface, it wasn't truly done willingly.

"The day we ran, I had to leave Frankie behind," she began heavily, her fingernails tapping against the ceramic handle. "She was working inside, and we couldn't tell her without tipping someone off. She's still there…if she's alive that is."

Carrie's lips parted to share words of encouragement, to assure her that Frankie understood, that she didn't hold it against her, but instead she held her tongue. Those words were meaningless, and more than likely untrue. Frankie had been abandoned by her entire group, left behind to fend for herself against Negan. To Carrie, that didn't seem like something forgivable.

"You had to do it too, didn't you," Lana asked next, looking up at her again. "You had to fuck your way to the top?"

Like it always did, the mention or thought of what happened made her chest tighten a little, the surge of memories making her feel vulnerable until she pushed them away again. "Not in so many words. But yes, something like that."

"Does Rick know?"

She nodded, recalling both the day she told him about the things she had done, and the day they encountered Granger together. "He knows enough. Not the details, but enough."

"And how do you know that you love him?"

Blinking in surprise, Carrie peered at Lana in curiosity, surprised by the question about love. Where had that come from, she wondered. But the question was no off the cuff query. Although she was trying to be nonchalant about it, Lana was hanging on for Carrie's answer, waiting with bated breath.

"Falling in love with him was easy," she smiled, fondly remembering the early days of their relationship. "I think that might be the easiest thing I've ever done…but I'm not constantly head over heels for him, and I don't love all parts of him."

"But you do love him," Lana pressed.

"Of course I do."

Lana sighed now, sitting forward. "How do you know?"

For a moment Carrie paused, conscious that her first attempt hadn't answered Lana's question to her satisfaction. "I think he might be the only person I've ever really known…I mean really know," she emphasised. "I trust that the person he shows me is who he really is. We didn't used to be completely in sync with one another, we are more these days, but he's never hidden himself from me. I know him…that's how I know I love him."

"Makes sense, I guess," Lana muttered, looking at her empty mug while she ran her finger around the lip. "That shit's important…"

"Can you say that about Vetor?" she asked, wanting to challenge her.

"I haven't loved Vetor for a long time," she said heavily, still looking at her mug. "I loved who I wanted him to be…just took me this long to figure that out."

"Then why the question about lo-"

Without warning the front door swung open, the atmosphere broken by heavy footsteps and chatter as Daryl, Carl and then Rick made their way into the house. There was the usual commotion now, Daryl hanging his crossbow up on a hook while Rick and Carl kicked off their shoes, each of them oblivious to the visitor they had in their living room. As she waited Carrie looked at Lana in apology, for not only was their coffee date likely to be over now, she wasn't quite sure how things were with Daryl at the moment. At this very thought Daryl came into view, literally scratching his ass as he made his way into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

"Yah wan't somthin'?" he asked the room at large, emerging from the refrigerator with a bowl of roasted vegetables from last night and the left over gravy.

Rick shook his head and then gave Carrie a hasty greeting before going upstairs, needing to change out of his muddy and blood stained clothing. Carl on the other hand eagerly reached for a cold potato and dipped it into the gravy.

 _You bastards_ , Carrie thought to herself. _That's my gravy_ _._

None of them had noticed that Lana was there, particularly given that she was presently curled up on the couch trying to avoid being noticed. She was holding on tight to her coffee mug, nonchalantly looking into it, and Carrie longed to know what was going on inside her head.

"Hey Carrie, did you finish the laundry today?" Carl asked, now dipping a carrot into the gravy and then taking a bite. Despite this he continued talking with his mouth full. "I need clean shirts to take with me to the Kingdom."

At this question Daryl looked at him incredulously. "Good God, man. Don't anger it," he warned.

Carrie just rolled her eyes. "For your information Carl, yes, I finished the laundry. I also packed a bag for all three of you, did a whole shift on watch, cleaned the floors, emptied the dishwasher, scrubbed the bathrooms and cut Judith's hair. If you're not careful I'll cut yours too."

Looking particularly uncomfortable with that suggestion, Carl muttered a swift apology and then turned back to the bowl of roast vegetables, selecting another piece of potato and dipping it into the gravy. Daryl on the other hand stood there awkwardly, having just realised who it was sitting on the couch opposite Carrie. There was an awkward tension in the air, both Lana and Daryl actively trying to avoid eye contact, their discomfort making Carrie more and more curious to know what was going on between them. Had they talked about the pregnancy? Had Daryl been supportive and understanding, or had he been a complete asshole about it…Carrie had her doubts about the latter.

"Don't take too long," Daryl muttered to Carl, pushing the bowl of vegetables into his hands. "We're outta here in half an hour." Without another word he turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, making a retreat from the uncomfortable situation.

"What are you gonna do, leave without me?" Carl questioned in annoyance. "I'm the reason we're going to the Kingdom."

Glad to note that Carl still seemed unaware of Lana's pregnancy, Carrie set her empty mug onto the coffee table. "Maybe you should go upstairs and take a shower before you go," she suggested.

"Nah, I'm good. I had one this morning."

"Carl," she said pointedly, waiting until she had his attention. "Go away. Now."

Looking between she and Lana he got the hint, though that didn't stop him looking at her in exasperation. "Fine. Whatever."

"Wait," she stopped him as he opened the refrigerator. "Leave the food on the counter."

He dumped the vegetables and gravy on the kitchen counter before leaving, making his annoyance with being kicked out clear with his heavy footsteps on the stairs. Not caring that he was annoyed Carrie apologised and turned back to Lana, but she was disappointed to see that she was getting up. Though there had been no interaction, clearly her encounter with Daryl had made her feel uncomfortable, bringing to an end their conversation. At this Carrie was disappointed, not feeling that their talk had come to a natural conclusion. There was still more to say, Lana still had more on her mind…and in an hour she would be leaving for the Kingdom where she would have to make a decision about what she wanted.

"You don't have to go," Carrie said kindly. "You don't have to go now, you don't have to go to the Kingdom…you don't have to go anywhere."

"I know I don't have to," Lana said, collecting both empty mugs and the empty plate. "But I'm going. It's my decision."

"Yes," she acknowledged. "Is Mina or Mitchell going with you?"

"No."

She knew it would never be allowed, that Rick would likely put his foot down and refuse the very idea, but Carrie made the offer anyway. "If you want me to, I can come with you."

At this Lana actually laughed. "Seriously? Nine months pregnant and you'll hold my hand while I get rid of mine?"

"If you wanted me to, yes."

Lana's amusement faded now, realising that Carrie meant it. Standing in the kitchen she held her gaze for a moment, but then shook her head. "Denise is coming with me…but thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied, a little relieved that Lana hadn't taken her up on the offer. But Denise would be there for her, Denise would help coach her to the decision that was right for her and then support her through whatever that decision was.

"Hey," Lana said next, her eyes crinkling with amusement as she opened the dishwasher and saw that it was crammed full with dirty dishes. "You didn't empty this."

Carrie scoffed at her naivety. "No. Just like I didn't scrub the bathrooms or clean the floors."

"Was any of what you said to Carl true?" she asked, rearranging some things before loading in the two mugs and plate.

"I did pack their bags and take watch, but that was only for an hour."

This time Lana grinned, shaking her head to herself, yet the light hearted moment didn't compel her to stay. "Thanks for the coffee" she said as she made her way towards the door.

Wanting to see her out, Carrie pushed herself up from the gym ball, annoyed when it rolled away and bumped into Judith's toy chest. "How bad did it taste?"

"Like a cup of ball sweat."

"And yet, you drank every last drop."

While Lana slipped her shoes back on Carrie went to the front door, opening it for her and following her out onto the porch. It was there they paused a moment, the method of their goodbye awkwardly lingered in the air, and Carrie didn't blame her for not wanting to hug her. Rick had joked that it was like a basketball between them when they hugged, but for Lana that was probably too close to home right now.

"I'm…" Lana began, though she wasn't looking her in the eye. Instead she was looking around at Alexandria, restlessly brushing her hair behind her ears. "I'm going to the Kingdom," she said firmly, sounding like she was talking herself into it. "I'm getting the pills I need…but I'm still going to think about it."

"You'll come home first?" she asked, hiding her relief when Lana nodded. _She's on the fence about it_. "Taking your time is the right thing to do," she began heavily. "But whatever you do decide…everything will be okay."

Lana nodded, murmuring a soft thanks before she went on her way. For a few moments Carrie watched her go before heading back inside, going about the struggle of switching her slippers for proper footwear. Upstairs she could hear everyone bustling around, Rick's heavy footfall on the stairs indicating that he was on his way down, and then all too soon they were all ready to go.

Bundling up against the cold, Carrie simply watched on as the Hyundai was packed with their personal belongings, while the back of the military truck was methodically loaded with the arsenal of weapons and ammunition that were to be supplied to the Hilltop Colony. Though Gregory wasn't yet willing negotiate the terms of an alliance that would fight the Saviours, Richard, Rick and Jesus were preparing for the day that happened. Whether it was Gregory or a predecessor, soon enough the Hilltop were going to fight he Saviours alongside Alexandria and the Kingdom, and to do that they would need weapons. For now though, Alexandria were delivering those weapons to the Kingdom where Jesus would meet them, ensuring that if the worst happened to them the stockpile to share would be safe elsewhere.

Feeling the baby stretching about inside her, Carrie waddled her way over to the rear of the military truck and looked inside. It never failed to bring her to awe when she saw the true extent of the weapons cache, and this was just a small portion of what they had. These days their armoury looked bare, the vast majority of weapons and ammunition having been taken out of Alexandria to be safely hidden elsewhere lest the Saviours one day find them.

"Mom…Mom?"

Hearing the sound of that familiar voice, Carrie lowered her gaze to the appropriate height and looked around for Judith, beaming when she saw her appear amongst the other well wishers down by the gate. Looking adorable in the winter coat that practically engulfed her, Judith happily strolled over to Carrie and then reached up for her, already babbling away to relay her day away from home. With a low groan she bent down and picked Judith up, a task that felt particularly strenuous and difficult these days, not that Judith had noticed. Though she was pleased to be perched on Carrie's hip she looked at her belly in annoyance, often feeling that it was in her way when she tried to cuddle up to her. Nevertheless she didn't skip a beat, still babbling away at her.

"I take it she's had a good day," she queried Carol who had followed her over.

Carol smiled cheerfully, for once looking as though it was genuine. "She's been very busy," she said, reaching out and pulling Judith's jacket down from riding up. "We didn't do anything special."

"It doesn't have to be special," Carrie assured her. "She likes coming to visit, don't you Judy?"

Stopping halfway through her sentence Judith considered her question, and then gave a brief nod before continuing what she was saying, her chatter not waning for even a moment. While they waited for the travellers to finish up with the packing and get ready to leave Carrie and Carol stood with one another, talking more in those few minutes than they had in a long time. Perhaps she was simply in a good mood today after having taken Judith, but for once she didn't seem to be itching to get away from Carrie, to leave and retreat back into her cottage where she would stay for the foreseeable future. Whatever she and Maggie had discussed, it had helped.

Today, the only thing Carrie could do was hope that Carol's good mood stuck around. It had been her idea that she take Judith for the day, that she allow Carrie some peace and quiet to finally get a few things done before Rick, Carl and Daryl left for the Kingdom, and it had been an offer Carrie gladly accepted. Carol hadn't babysat Judith in months, and the little girl had been as thrilled as Carrie by the notion of spending the day with Carol.

"Her diaper was dry after her nap," Carol commented. "Rick said she's sometimes dry in the morning."

"Sometimes," Carrie clarified. "You think it's time to start potty training?"

"Maybe. We could wait until her birthday next month, give her some underwear to try out."

"You'll tell me how to do it, right?"

"Of course, I'll show you how it's done," she winked at her. "What are you doing for dinner tonight?"

Having been watching as Rick checked on things in the back of the military truck, it took Carrie a moment to answer. "Dinner? Erm…probably leftovers from last night."

Carol shook her head in disapproval. "Give Judy an early bath and then come on over. Tobin has evening watch, and I'm not cooking spaghetti for one."

A smile crept onto Carrie's face…it had been months since Carol invited her around for anything, least of all dinner. "Spaghetti Tuesday?"

"It is Wednesday after all. I was thinking I'll invite Tara too."

"With Denise going away I think that would be nice," Carrie agreed. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she answered, her tone indicating surprise for the gratitude. "When the baby's here I'll be able to make you Tiramisu for dessert…my recipe is deadly."

At this Carrie grinned, feeling her heart swelling. "I wouldn't have my Tiramisu any other way. Can you believe some people have it without the alcohol?"

Carol scoffed playfully. "What a waste of time." She turned to Judith now. "Can you say, Mommy's getting hammered?"

Frowning, she tried. "Mommy's…"

"Mommy's getting hammered," Carol coached her, pronouncing it slowly. "Say it loudly."

"Carol!"

"Mom's…hamma…Mom's hammered."

"Good girl!" Carol praised. "Say it again, louder."

"Mom's hammered!"

As the other Alexandrian's turned and looked in confusion, Carrie could only cringe. "I'm not hammered," she laughed, trying to reassure them. Shaking her head she turned back to Carol. "I expect that from Daryl, not you!"

Carol only shrugged, unconcerned. "They need something else to gossip about at book club."

With this, Carrie had to agree. Though it probably wasn't Carol's original intention, there was no denying that such a joke might draw attention away from Lana and her group, even if just temporarily. Everyone knew they were defectors from the Saviours, but no one knew that she was pregnant to Daryl, and they intended to keep it that way. Lana didn't need the added pressure of more people knowing her secret than already did.

"Come over at five," Carol requested, already taking her leave. "You can put Judy to bed in my room, maybe we'll watch a movie or something."

"That sounds nice. Thanks for having her today."

Waving goodbye to Judith and then the others, Carol simply turned on her heel and went home, but this time Carrie didn't feel down about any of it. Maybe this was an about-face on Carol's part…maybe things had changed enough for her. Maybe all she needed after all was a little time to come around, to be alone and process the horrible deaths they had endured over the last few months and since the outbreak itself. From now on things were going to be different, Carrie knew it.

* * *

Unable to help himself, Rick just had to look around when he heard Judith loudly proclaiming that her mom was hammered, taking great delight in the way Carrie was trying to shush her. Standing in the back of the military truck surrounded by the generous cache of weapons they were contributing to the Hilltop Colony, he looked out and laughed to himself when he saw Carrie's embarrassment, the way she tried to reassure the other Alexandrians that she was in fact perfectly sober. Her cheeks were pink, and as Judith continued insisting that she was hammered she seemed to give up and simply ignore her. Rick on the other hand was perfectly bemused. There had to come a time eventually when one of the kids embarrassed Carrie in public, it was a rite of passage for every parent. Though it was ten years since he had done it, Rick still had not forgiven Carl for telling the County Sheriff " _my daddy says you're a dick_ ".

Turning back to the arsenal, Rick cast his eye over everything and made sure it would be secure for the journey, that nothing would go bouncing around in the back. They had spent months building their stockpile of weapons, and it seem foolish to be just giving so much away, but it was a strategic move, one that if played out well would ensure their safety in the future. So long as the Hilltop didn't get any mistaken ideas about whose side they were on, Alexandria and the Kingdom would have strength in numbers. The Saviours couldn't take them all on at once.

"Let's go," Rick decided, jumping down from the back and then helping Abraham close everything up. "Are we all here?"

"Carl's probably still at my house," Glenn answered, looking up the road. "I'll go get him."

"Please," Rick muttered, wondering what was taking Carl so long to say goodbye to Enid. Then again, perhaps he didn't want to know what was taking him so long. "Lana? Where is she?"

"On her way," Tobin spoke up. "Left her packing to the last minute."

Though he was annoyed by her tardiness he didn't let it show, conscious that despite his decision she was allowed to stay, most community sentiment wasn't exactly on her side right now. Wanting to leave quickly he started saying his goodbyes, making his way over to where Carrie and Judith were waiting expectantly.

"I'll be back in a couple of days," he assured her, placing his hand on her arm and kissing her. But by now they were getting used to it, aware of how important trips like this were for Alexandria. He had no doubt that this would not be the last time he had to leave her and his children behind.

Carrie moved with him when he started to pull away, asking for more. "That's how you kiss your wife goodbye?"

Getting he hint he kissed her again, this time letting it feel more leisurely. For a few happy moments he thought about last night when they were in bed together, eager to fool around but both too sleepy to put in the majority of the work. It had been all hands roaming lazily, slow kisses and heavy sighs, and then he was inside her. Even then they felt no hurry, completely relaxed and content to take their time with one another. Thinking about it now, Rick knew that night was going to get him through a few days away from home.

"No more slandering your mother," Rick said to Judith, taking her in his arms now that he had a minute or so to spare. He kissed her on the cheek and held her close, but Judith was well used to this scenario. She seemed generally unconcerned by his impending departure, which was the way he needed it to be for her.

"Bye," she told him, tolerating another kiss before pointedly pushing him away and reaching for Carrie instead.

As if on cue Carl and Glenn appeared at the top of the street, while Lana appeared in the other direction, both groups heading down to join the departing group. Rick turned back to his family and watched as Carl gave Carrie an obligatory kiss goodbye on the cheek, before doing the same with his sister. Just as she had done with Rick she waved goodbye, but seemed generally unconcerned by the fact that he was leaving.

"I'm riding in the truck. Hey Abe, can I drive?"

"My dingle-berried ass you can drive."

"Is that a yes?"

"Take care," Rick requested of her, touching his hand to her belly before they shared one more kiss. "I love you."

Carrie smiled, holding his hand against her belly for just one more moment, but then she let him go. "We love you too. Travel safely."

"I'll bring back some food from Chef."

"I never doubted the man for a second."

While Abraham, Sasha and Carl climbed into the military truck, Rick and the other four headed for the Hyundai. While Daryl slammed the trunk shut Rosita was hastening for the front passenger seat, and it was only at the last minute that he realised he was going to have to sit in the back with Lana. As she too realised this Lana turned to Denise and grabbed her by the arm, quietly imploring her to take the middle seat and be a buffer.

Unconcerned by who sat where, Rick lingered by the driver's seat and watched on while everyone else filed into the vehicles and shut the doors, and only when he was the last left standing did he take the driver's seat. There was silence in the car, and a quick glance in the rear view mirror showed him Lana and Daryl sitting in the back with Denise between them, everyone pointedly avoiding one another's gaze. Whatever had happened between Daryl and Lana since the revelation of her pregnancy, it hadn't done much to help the shock of it. Conscious of everything going on, he also took note that Abraham, Sasha and Rosita were all making this journey…there were a lot of relationship dynamics and hurt feelings at play here, but he wasn't anticipating trouble.

With his rifle resting across his lap, Rick started the engine and then looked around as the Alexandrian's backed away from the vehicles, while Tara came forward to open the gate and farewell them as they departed. Going first Rick led the way, glancing at Carrie and Judith and raising his hand from the steering well in farewell. With some encouragement Judith was wildly waving her hand at them as they left, while Carrie smiled and continued hiding her disappointment to see them going.

In no time at all the two vehicles were on the wide open road, making the familiar journey to the Kingdom as if it was any other day. A small group of them had already been out that day scouting the route, making sure it was clear and that there were no unfriendly types around. They would head due east into the city and then north up to Palmyra, the route they always took…simple. All in all their travel wouldn't take more than an hour. They would arrive at the Kingdom with plenty of daylight to spare, time to settle into their housing quarters, for Carl to catch up with his friends. Though on the surface they were there to bring Carl and Lana to the doctors, the main purpose of this trip was to regroup with Richard, to ascertain where things were at in regards to the Saviours.

A great deal had happened over the last few days, not even accounting for the fallout of Lana's pregnancy and Vetor leaving her. What they had come to learn about Lana's group and the Saviour's had changed everything, and though at first the discovery of their secret felt like a betrayal, now it was their greatest strength in the fight against the Saviours. After interrogating Lana, Vetor, Mitchell and Mina, Alexandria now knew exactly where the Sanctuary was, how to get in, the layout and organisation, how it was defended, how many people lived there…where Negan lived.

This trip was about defining their next move. By now Richard should have made headway in convincing Ezekiel it was time to fight, and if he hadn't convinced him already then the news of their extra information and advantage was sure to help. For the first time ever the Kingdom would now be two steps ahead of the Saviours. They had allies and information. Once they had Ezekiel on board once and for all they would tackle the issue of Gregory and the Hilltop, the last roadblock standing in their way. Jesus too would be visiting the Kingdom today to join their discussions, and that meant they would need a sensitive approach when it came to discussing Gregory in front of him. They couldn't presume that Jesus would be prepared to overthrow and potentially kill his leader, regardless of the man's cowardice.

Thirty minutes into their journey, and still not a word had been said by any of them. The silence was increasingly uncomfortable, and Rick kept finding himself glancing into the rear view mirror to look at Daryl and Lana. He knew they had talked things over at some stage, that Daryl had told her to do whatever was right for her about the pregnancy…there was nothing more he was able to do, even if he resented her decision. He was powerless here, though even knowing him so well Rick couldn't gauge what it was that Daryl wanted to happen next.

Over the last few days he had been wondering if perhaps Daryl had developed feelings for Lana, if them sleeping together had started leading to something more, but he tried to shake this thought. He couldn't assume that just because it happened between he and Carrie, that Daryl and Lana were predisposed to falling in love. They were all very different people, and while Rick wouldn't have slept with Carrie in the first place if he didn't feel the flicker of something for her, Daryl on the other hand treated sex and love very differently. For him sex was a tit for tat exchange, nothing more. That didn't mean he was going to fall in love with a woman he slept with.

Unable to stand the heavy silence for much longer, Rick parted his lips to ask Rosita to find a CD in the glove compartment, but a sudden movement she made caught his attention. Until then she had been slouched in the front passenger seat with her feet up on the dashboard, but now she sat up straighter and peered down the road. Following her gaze Rick did the same, and when he saw a lone figure on the road ahead he watched it with caution. In general there was no particular reason to be alarmed by the sight of a bodily figure walking alongside the road, Walkers were a nuisance on the best of days, but something about this one had caught Rosita's attention.

"Don't slow down," she said quietly, taking her rifle in hand and then moving her seat back, ignoring the surprised protests of Daryl behind her. Even from a distance they could tell the figure moved with the smooth gait not associated with a Walker, and their hands didn't swing by their side as if it was a person travelling on foot…they were holding something.

"That a Walker?" Daryl questioned, leaning into the open truck where Carl's crossbow rested atop their bags.

"I don't think so," Rick answered, lowering his foot onto the gas and reaching for the radio on his belt.

"What is it?" Denise asked quietly, her brow furrowed in worry. Beside her Lana too was arming herself, casting her eyes around to the north side of the road.

Not answering her question, he raised the radio just as Rosita lowered her window and brought her rifle to the ready. "Abe, do you copy?"

He responded without delay. "Copy."

"We might have something on the road, I want you to slow down a little until we've cleared it."

"Copy that. Over."

In seconds they were closing in on the lone figure, and the closer they came the more certain Rick became that it was a person, not a Walker. Nevertheless he had no intention of stopping for them, not until he got a clear glimpse of what it was they were carrying in their hands…even then he wasn't exactly in a charitable mood. They were less than a hundred yards away and closing in at considerable speed when the figure did something of significance, and as if in slow motion they came to a stop and then whirled around, and he felt the bullets hammering the car before he heard the gun firing.

In the split second that followed Rick slammed his foot onto the gas, the car's speed accelerating quickly as they closed in on the shooter. The sound of bullets slamming into their car and whizzing past him only inches away was drowned out by Rosita, who hadn't hesitated to open fire through the passenger window she had already lowered. He ignored the white hot burn of the expended shells bouncing off of his hands, ignored the terrifying burst of red that he saw in his peripheral vision, and instead focused on keeping control of the car. He saw the startled face of the gunman a split second before he ran him over, both sickened and satisfied when he watched his body crumple and roll up the hood of the car. The windscreen cracked under the strain of the bullets and the body, but in an instant it was thrown clear and he was slamming on the brakes.

He skidded to a stop further down the road, Rosita scrambling for the radio to tell the others to go back. As the shock settled Rick slumped back into his seat and tried to catch his breath, looking himself up and down for evidence that he had been shot, miraculously finding none. Using the rear mirror he watched everyone in the back, Daryl and Lana scrambling to help Denise whose head lolled back against the seat. Her eyes were open in a blank stare, Daryl clutching her neck as dark red blood streamed over his hands.

"Denise?" Lana whimpered. She seized the front of her shirt and shook her, the motion making her head loll forward onto Daryl's shoulder. "Denise!"

Having some to a stop in the middle of the road, Rick looked back the way they had come to the body that lay prone in the centre of the road, unmoving. It was then that he realised it was he who made the fatal mistake, that stopping even for a split second in which he could catch his breath had made everything so much worse.

From the ground around them arose more figures, a group of at least twenty surrounding them on all sides and closing in fast. Without time to look at them and gauge the threat, no time in which to pick up the rifle that had fallen into the footwell, Rick could only turn around to those in the back. There was no need to take a second look at their attackers, for they could only be from one group, the Saviours.

"Lana, get down!" he instructed her, for the Saviours couldn't know she was with them. "Get down!"

A shot was fired, the driver's side mirror shot clean off. "Hands up!" someone shouted at them. "All of you, now!"

While Rick and Rosita did as instructed, in the back seat Daryl lunged towards Lana, seizing her by the collar and wrenching her down and out of sight, but by now it was already far too late. With his hands in the air and twenty guns trained on them, Rick knew better than to try and fight, and so there was nothing he could do but allow the first Saviour to open the driver's door and wrench him out.

* * *

A/N Hey readers, I hope you enjoyed my spin on Season 6 Episode 14, Twice As Far. Please leave a review to let me know what you think about that, and about the Carrie and Lana scene - cheers!


	37. Chapter 37

_"Lana, get down!" he instructed her, for the Saviours couldn't know she was with them. "Get down!"_

 _A shot was fired, the driver's side mirror shot clean off. "Hands up!" someone shouted at them. "All of you, now!"_

 _While Rick and Rosita did as instructed, in the back seat Daryl lunged towards Lana, seizing her by the collar and wrenching her down and out of sight, but by now it was already far too late. With his hands in the air and twenty guns trained on them, Rick knew better than to try and fight, and so there was nothing he could do but allow the first Saviour to open the driver's door and wrench him out._

Kneeling on the ground with his hands in the air, Rick was cooperative as Rosita was brought around and shoved down beside him, her hands too raised into the air. Behind them there was a commotion from within the car, Daryl having hit the interior locks before lunging at Lana, and whatever he was doing incited the Saviours. A shot was fired, Lana screaming as she was showered with glass, then both doors were opened and they were wrestled out to the ground. Dragged by her coat she fell heavily onto the ground, yelling out as she started fighting back. Scrambling to her feet she swung at one of the Saviours and landed a heavy punch to their face, but a split second later they overpowered her and wrestled her back to the ground.

"Don't fuckin' touch her!"

Out of sight Daryl too was fighting, but despite his angry growl there was a heavy thud as he was shoved against the car, and Rick silently implored him to stop. As he waited he glanced to his right at Rosita, sharing her scowl before looking back down the road, glad to see no sign of the military truck in the distance. Seconds later Lana was brought over and shoved down to the ground, allowing Rick a brief glimpse of the bright red blood smeared across her face, noticing the distinct pattern that looked like a handprint. She was turning onto her front and keeping her head down, allowing her blood stained hair to fall across her face. She was hiding her identity, Daryl having smeared her face with blood to obscure as much of her features as he could.

There was another scuffle as Daryl was brought around, but he was marginally more cooperative now, and when he was shoved down and told to put his hands up he did as he was told. Making eye contact with him Rick shared a brief nod, wordlessly telling him that they would be okay, they would make it out of this alive. Around them the Saviours were falling into a line and flexing their grips on their weapons, trying to intimidate them. Not letting them get to him, Rick raised his head just enough to look at each of them, counting fifteen all together. Each of them were armed, wearing heavy shoes and clothing that would protect them not only from the cold weather, but also the Walkers they were sure to encounter.

"All of them out," the man in charge instructed, clicking his fingers at two men and pointing to the car. "All of them."

Clenching his jaw so that he didn't say something stupid, Rick watched in disgust as two of them reached into the back of the car and dragged Denise out. There was a thud as they dropped her to the ground on the other side of the car, and then the awful sound of denim on the asphalt as they dragged her around. Her head was lolling back, her long pony tail caught up beneath her, and then they let her go once she was beside Daryl. Rick wanted to look away, to not torture himself with the sight of her body treated with such disregard, but he forced himself to look. Her eyes were still open in a blank stare, her glasses askew on her face reminding him how she used to push them up her nose when she was nervous. This woman had saved his son's life, had brought him back from the brink of death…and there was nothing he could do for her.

"You got something to say to me?" the one in charge began, starting forward and coming to stop in front of Daryl.

There was silence, Daryl slowly raising his head and look up at the man. He too doing the same Rick cringed when he saw the horrific scars on his face, the mottled skin stretching the entirety of his left hand side features. But it wasn't until he recognised the weapon he carried in his hands that he made the connection, that he realised this had to be Dwight. In his hands was Daryl's old crossbow, the one he had carried since the very beginning, the one Carrie had used to beat Pete to death with. This man was the defector that had been fleeing the Saviours the day they evacuated the herd from the quarry, he and his girlfriend had stolen Daryl's bike and left him…yet despite everything he was fleeing from he had returned to the Saviours.

"You gonna clear the air?" Dwight badgered, trying to incite a reaction. "Step up on that high horse?"

Still there was silence, Daryl staring up at him with narrowed eyes. Between them Lana leant forward with her hands on the road, head bowed and her hair forming a curtain around her face. She and Dwight had known one another back at the Sanctuary, if she was recognised by him then this was all going to be over. They'd be killed, and the Saviours would step up their search for Alexandria even harder. In a moment of self-doubt, Rick knew that Vetor had been right…it was dangerous for Lana to be with them.

Dwight was still sneering down at Daryl. "No. You don't talk much."

Taking a few steps back he gestured the others forward, and in seconds they were disarmed, one of the Saviours reaching down by Rick's hip and taking his Colt from the holster. Cooperating for now they allowed themselves to be disarmed, and on the pretence of comforting Lana he reached over and placed his hand on top of hers. He waited until the Saviour disarming her had stepped away, and then in a low murmur he told her "Don't say a word, not one." Her Australian accent was too noticeable, it would identify her in a heartbeat.

"What was that?" Dwight questioned, moving towards Rick now. "What did you say to her?"

Daryl intervened, taking the attention away from Lana. "I should'a done it," he growled lowly.

It seemed to get Dwight's attention, the mere comment a refusal from them to participate in his standover. "Hey, what's that?" he asked, turning to him instead. "Seriously. I didn't catch what you said."

"I should'a killed yah."

Dwight stared at him for a moment, holding his gaze. "Yeah, you probably should have," he said quietly. "So here we are. It kind of begs the question, right? Who brought this on who?"

As another pause came to pass Rick made a point of looking around at each of the Saviours again, but he didn't dare look back down the road they had come. With so many of them watching he couldn't afford to double check that Carl was still staying back, he couldn't alert them to the fact they had more people with them. A quick check of what they had on their person indicated they had only one handheld radio among them…it was likely they hadn't been listening in, just lying in wait instead.

"Everyone stand up," Dwight instructed, brandishing Daryl's crossbow at them. "I want to take a look at you all."

Playing along until the time was right, Rick cooperatively began getting to his feet, but not before placing a gentle hand on the back of Lana's neck, a reminder for her to keep her head down. Daryl and Rosita obeyed too, but Lana was the slowest of them, gingerly getting to her feet and then stopping halfway erect. Her right hand was injured, blood dropping down her fingers and onto the road below, but she kept her head down and her shoulders hunched forward. Rick couldn't tell if her trembling body was an act or genuine fear…it could be either given she was now facing the history she had tried to run from.

"You too," Dwight instructed her, sounding impatient. "Stand up."

"Leave 'er," Daryl said sharply, and he took a swift step to move in front of her. "She's fuckin' pregnant."

At this Dwight paused, but he didn't soften. "I don't care. Stand up, n-."

"What do you want?" Rosita asked, interrupting him.

In an instant Dwight turned his attention from Lana to Rosita, telling them something all very important - he could be distracted with only a little effort. "Oh, I'm sorry darlin', I didn't catch your name? I'm D," he introduced himself, smirking at her. "Or Dwight, you can call me either. So…what's your name?"

She glared at him, but stood her ground. "Rosita," she answered sharply. "What do you want?"

"Well, Rosita. It's not about what I want, it's what you and Daryl are going to do. You're going to let us into your little complex, it looks like it's just beautiful in there," he smiled, goading her. "And then you're going to let us take _whatever_ and _whoever_ we want. Or, we'll blow her brains out," he threatened, gesturing to Lana. "And then yours, and then his…and then Daryl's. I hope it doesn't come to that."

There was silence now, none of them having anything worth saying in response. Everything that had played out so far was exactly what Richard had prepared them for. A surprise ambush, being lined up on their knees, threatened with death…except Negan, except the baseball bat. Where was all that? Was he coming at all, or was this all he had sent to attack Alexandria? But in spite of the situation they faced Rick felt himself regaining an element of control, having noticed a small amount of movement in the tree line behind the Saviours, movement he wouldn't have noticed had he not been meant to. They got there quickly, Christ his people were good…

"Really, no one else has to die," Dwight insisted. "We just try to start with one. You know, maximum impact to get our point across. So what's it going to be?"

"We're not taking you anywhere," Rick decided, speaking directly to Dwight for the first time.

To his satisfaction this utterance of defiance bothered Dwight, making his mouth twitch a little. "What was that?"

"I said, we're not taking you anywhere."

At this Dwight managed a smirk, and he looked at him in amusement before turning to the other Saviours. "Did you hear that? He's not taking us anywhere." There was a murmur of laughter now, each of the Saviours readjusting their weapons and shifting their weight between their feet. When Dwight turned back to him he withdrew his gun from the holster on the front of his belt, and then he raised it to Lana. "You're going to take me to your place, or I'll shoot her. It's really that simple."

Rick shook his head, noting that his finger wasn't yet on the trigger. "You might have fired the first shots…but I guarantee I will fire the last."

Dwight raised his eyebrows at him. "You'll fire the last shots…with all your guns?" he asked mockingly, looking him up and down.

"This is how it's going to be," he began confidently, though he was anything but. "I'm going to make you this offer once, and once only. Walk away now with all your people…or you won't be walking anywhere ever again." He paused, allowing Dwight to continue sneering at him. "Think real hard about your answer."

Dwight was having none of it, and so he made a point of moving his finger to the trigger now, making sure Rick saw him doing it. "You're a tough guy, right? You've got it all figured out….you won't be for long."

His finger had barely touched the trigger when he dropped the gun with a yelp of pain, followed by the high pitched whizz of a round and the low echo of a rifle and suppressor. Dwight howled as he clenched his hand to the top of his forearm from which a stream of red blood erupted, and as he stumbled backwards the group of Saviour's around him raised their weapons in response.

"That was your warning," Rick said loudly, hoping that Abraham and Sasha would be able to hear him. "Walk away now, while you still can."

"Find them!" Dwight yelled in outrage, pointing his bloodied arm at three of the Saviours. As they fell back and started off in the direction the shot had come from Dwight scrambled to collect himself, his fingers slipping as he brought the crossbow back into his hands, but when a round hit the road inches from his foot he leapt back again.

"She didn't miss," Rick warned him. Beside him Lana was lowering herself to the ground, staying out of the firing line as she reached for the gun Dwight had dropped. As she got back to her feet she passed it to Daryl on her left, still trying to hide her face.

"Change o' heart, you prick?" Daryl growled, pointing the gun at him.

A loud shot was fired, this one from Abraham in a different direction, and one of the Saviours fell to the ground yelling, dropping his weapons and clutching the back of his leg. From there things seemed to go downhill, another of the Saviour's dropping their weapon to come to the man's aid, while those who had headed off looking for Sasha started to fall back, unsure of what to do. While he watched them unravelling Rick turned to his right at the familiar sound of an enormous engine, and now he was pleased by the sight of their military truck ambling down the road towards them. With Abraham and Sasha on the ground it could only be Carl in the driver's seat, Carl who laid his hand on the horn as he picked up speed.

At the sight of the incoming vehicle chaos ensued amongst the Saviours, everyone of them breaking rank in an instant. Whatever the intention was today, Negan hadn't exactly sent his A team, that much was clear by the way they fled while leaving behind the weapons they had just taken from their would be victims. Racing forward Rick seized the nearest rifle just as Rosita and Lana did the same, whereas Daryl lunged directly for Dwight. As the two men fought for the crossbow Rick and the others opened fire on the Saviours, shooting those who were running for cover and those who fired on the truck that was closing in, their rounds barely making a scratch on the bulletproof exterior.

In seconds the fight between Daryl and Dwight was over, the latter relinquishing the crossbow and then fleeing under the cover fire provided by his men. Meanwhile Daryl lay there on the road, gingerly sitting up and touching his stomach, but there was no time to go to his aid. Seconds later their military truck veered off the road and then mowed down the Saviours, both those fighting and those fleeing, and Rick absolutely had to stop and watch. One by one they went down, the few lucky ones who had made it to the tree line getting away unscathed, Dwight included.

As the truck passed and screeched to a stop they opened fire again, shooting at the retreaters as they too returned fire, but only for a few moments. From a distance he watched as Dwight turned around and fired one last parting shot, one that went no where in particular, and then he fled into the trees and got away with three or four others. Rick shared a quick glance with Rosita and Sasha before they set off on foot, fully prepared to hunt down every single one of them, but at the last second he was forced to stop.

"Rick!" Lana was calling to him. "Wait!"

Waiting only until he was certain Dwight and the Saviours were out of sight did Rick turn around, his heart sinking as he looked back to the car. Daryl was being helped into the back of the car by Abraham, clutching his stomach as he slumped heavily across the backseat. His fingers were marred by bright red blood, smears left on the outside of the car in his wake.

"Stab wound?" Rosita questioned, getting into the back and unceremoniously climbing over him to settle herself on his legs. "How deep?"

"Shallow, I think," Abraham answered, climbing out the other side. "There's active bleeding."

As Rosita applied pressure Daryl grit his teeth in pain, swearing at the top of his lungs. "Mother f- cunt faced bitch stabbed me!" he growled, raising his head only for it to fall back onto the seat. "Bitch stabbed me."

"We need to go," Rosita called out, removing her jacket and using it to stem the blood. "Home is closest."

While Sasha and Lana scrambled to jump into the front Rick raced around to the rear, imploring them to wait just a moment longer. While he opened the trunk and cleared a space, Carl knelt beside Denise's body and straightened the glasses on her face, his hands trembling as he looked down at her in shock, unable to comprehend what had happened.

Ushering him out of the way Rick and Abraham picked her up, taking as much care as they could as they lay her down in the trunk of the car. While Abraham kept pushing their bags out of the way to make room for her legs, Rick turned Denise's face away and removed his pocket knife, not relishing the next task. As horrible as it was it had to be done, they couldn't even wait to allow Tara to be the one to do it on Denise's behalf…they did not let their own people turn. In one swift move he thrust the knife beneath the back of her skull, plunging it to the hilt so he was confident that she wouldn't turn.

When he removed the knife he allowed her head to turn back, then pulled her glasses off and used the sleeve of his jacket to close her eyes. When he replaced the glasses over her eyes he looked at her a moment longer, taking the only opportunity he had left to silently thank her. He was forever in her debt for saving Carl's life that day…without her his son would be dead.

The car's engine was stalling on them, smoke appearing at the edges of the hood as it ticked over and over, but to no avail. "Get him out," Sasha instructed, abandoning her attempts to start the car. "We'll have to take the truck, let's go!"

"No!" Rick called out, his heart faltering as he considered his next words. He looked at the truck waiting twenty yards down the road, the back of it crammed full of guns and ammunition, weapons they absolutely had to get to the Kingdom. They needed Hilltop on their side, and for that they needed something to offer them…this couldn't wait.

"What is it?" Sasha questioned, looking him in the eye. "Rick?"

"We…we have to get to the Kingdom," he said heavily, emphasising the urgency of this. "We have to get these guns there, and they've got doctors."

Sasha blinked, her lips parting as she looked around to watch Abraham hurriedly helping Daryl to the truck, Rosita keeping up and holding her jacket against his stomach. "Home is closer," she argued.

"We're halfway there, we'll radio ahead, have them meet us with a car at the edge of the city," he bargained, already making his way towards Daryl, catching him before he began climbing into the cabin of the truck. "Daryl, we-"

"Kingdom," he grunted roughly, hissing in pain as he pulled himself up.

"Are you crazy?" Lana exclaimed, rushing towards them in outrage. "We have to get him home, now!"

"Lan-"

"Those guns are more important than him?"

"We're goin'," Daryl growled at her, slumping down across the front seat. "So quit yah bitchin'."

She turned her outrage directly to him. "Quit my bitching?" she questioned as she climbed up, Daryl moaning when he realised she was joining them in the cabin. "You're a fucking dick head! You've been stabbed, you realise that, right?"

Leaving them to it Rick hastened away to help the others, he and Abraham opening the trunk of the now useless Hyundai. Moving her again, Rick apologised as they pulled Denise back into their arms and carried her to the truck, unwilling to leave her body unattended. When Sasha cleared a space for them they did their best to get Denise in with as much grace and dignity as they could, hating the way her head lolled about on the floor, her glasses falling off for a second time.

"Carl, let's go!" Abraham bellowed, leaping down from the back and rushing to the cabin to take the driver's seat. "Ass in the truck, now!"

"Come on!" Rick too called out, he and Sasha standing in the back of the truck waiting for him. "Carl!"

Inexplicably he was wandering through the overgrown grass on the side of the road, his head bowed low. Conscious of every second wasted Rick called out to Carl again, but he looked up to acknowledge them only when the truck's engine roared to life. He held up his hand, asking for just one more minute, but before Rick could say no he had lunged for something on the ground. Having found what he was looking for he made a run for it back to the truck, brandishing Rick's Colt in explanation, and when he saw the sunlight glinting on the barrel he was suddenly less impatient. As he jogged back to them Carl looked over his shoulder and then raised the gun, giving a twisted sort of smile as he fired a shot into the air, wasting a precious round.

Standing at the edge of the truck's rear Rick reached down and took Carl's hand, quickly helping him up into the back while Sasha called out to Abraham, giving him the all clear. Before Carl even had time to find somewhere to sit the truck was in motion, the sudden jolt making them all falter as they tried to orient themselves. They were all breathless as they sat down on the many crates and boxes of weapons, Carl's gaze falling onto Denise's body. In spite of everything that had transpired in the space of merely five minutes, they each fell silent in horrified contemplation. As they drove away Rick looked back the way they had come, watching their abandoned car disappear while Dwight and his surviving group fled the scene. The Saviours had been unprepared for Rick's group to fight back…but at the same time, Rick too had been unprepared. Denise lifeless before him was proof of that.

It was ten minutes before Carl nudged him, passing over his Colt. He took it back without a word, and he looked up only when Carl asked him to, saying his name to get his attention.

"You still fired the last shot."

* * *

Merely two hours later, Rick found himself in the same doctor's office in which he and Carl had spent much time. For thirty minutes now they had been there with Brea and Mak, the two doctors assessing Carl's skin graft and asking him a myriad of questions, consulting the extensive notes Denise had kept over the last month. Today was cause for celebration, the official _all clear_ that the graft had taken successfully, that it was free of infection and healing as planned, but even that news didn't make a difference to what had happened that day.

Colton, Dianne and Mak had met them at the edge of the city with a bona fide ambulance, taking Daryl into the back before returning to the Kingdom at great speed, faster than they would have made it in the military truck. Rick went with him every step of the way, and not to his surprise so too did Lana, though she did nothing more than sit there in horrified silence and watch on. By the time they made it to the Kingdom and managed to get him to the Infirmary there were already three residents waiting outside, their sleeves rolled up as precious blood drained from their arms.

Mak and Brea took him straight into their makeshift surgical theatre, Rick and Lana left waiting outside in disbelief. For the longest time they simply stood there with one another waiting, for although the wound seemed only shallow these things had a way of turning bad quickly, especially these days. It took a while for him to take notice that Lana's face was still covered in Denise's blood, and when he pointed it out to her the entirety of what happened to them seemed to hit home for her. Beginning to tremble she sank down onto a nearby chair with a heavy breath, staring at the floor.

"This isn't your fault," he said quietly. Taking the seat beside her he passed her a damp cloth he had taken from the nearby consulting rooms. "They were waiting for us to come past, they didn't even know you were with us."

She sniffled, staring at the cloth for a moment before raising it to her face. "It doesn't feel like it," she murmured. "Denise was only coming because of me."

"She was coming for Carl too," he murmured, though this was only half true. If it were only Carl seeking a doctor's visit at the Kingdom, Denise would have likely stayed home.

"I can't believe they went back," she muttered under her breath, vigorously rubbing the cloth against her cheek. "They're so stupid."

"You mean Dwight?" he questioned, recalling the leader of the less than competent team of Saviours, the man with the horrific scars on his face.

"Yeah. I knew they ditched Daryl, but I didn't really think they went back."

There was silence for a short while now, Rick glancing up when he saw movement in the corner of his eyes, but it wasn't Brea or Mak coming out of the surgery. Instead it was Richard, carrying a First Aid kit that he set down on the floor next to Lana. Providing a few soft words of condolences he gently set about cleaning up her hand, apologising when she winced in discomfort. From her wrist down to her knuckles were three scratches, deep enough in parts that they had bleed, leaving trails of dried blood coursing down her fingers. Though she looked all the worse for wear she was lucky to have come through it all relatively unscathed. As they waited Rick watched her from the corner of his eye, wondering how much today's events would influence her coming decision of whether to stay in Alexandria or to join Vetor out on the road.

"The rest of your group are here safely," Richard told him, still carefully tending to Lana's hand. "Dianne's with them now. Looks like just a few scrapes and bumps."

"Thank you," Rick murmured, though he said nothing more. Richard's ongoing hospitality wasn't going to make what might have to happen any easier.

Within the hour things began to turnaround, Daryl receiving a tentative all clear following his surgery with Mak and Brea, and after an appropriate time spent rest they were allowed in to see him. But though Rick celebrated his lucky escape and sat by his bedside a while, now was not the time to relax. What should have been a simple journey to the Kingdom had become a disaster, one whose consequences would harm more than Daryl and Denise. For so long they had operated with a contingency plan, but now Denise's death left them in a difficult position, grief aside. He knew in advance what the doctors were going to say to him tonight, and the potential consequences that held for Carrie and their baby. Although this would be his third child, it would be his first not born by caesarian, and that thought alone terrified him. What they faced meant that tonight had to go smoothly, and that if push came to shove Rick could not give in.

"Carl, wait for me outside, please," Rick instructed, his doctor's visit having come to an end now he had the all clear.

Doing as he was told without protest, Carl thanked his doctors again before making himself scarce. There were a few moments of silence as they waited for him to leave, conversation resuming only when he had closed the door behind himself.

"How's Carrie doing?" Brea asked, broaching the subject first. "Did Denis…" she trailed off awkwardly, taking pause before continuing. "Did Denise bring her file?"

Nodding, Rick passed over the manilla folder of the notes Denise kept on Carrie's pregnancy. A few innocuous drops of blood marred the exterior, the yellow paper making the blood look brown instead of red. It had been sitting on Denise's lap during the journey, and in the chaos of it all Sasha had the state of mind to get it before they fled in the military truck.

"The baby's in the breech position," he began explaining, watching on as Brea opened the folder and began looking through the paperwork. Beside her Mak was sitting quietly, peering over at the paperwork without comment.

"She's only thirty six weeks," Brea commented. "It will probably turn on its own. Did Denise discuss intervention options?"

"Yes. Carrie's been doing some yoga, stretches. Denise said that you would know how to turn it with your hands if you had to."

"I'd give it another week or so, but yes, we can consider that. We have a licensed chiropractor here, Bren. We should consider the Webster technique as a starting point. It can help promote pelvic alignment and release tension in the pelvis and uterus, and has a pretty good success rate without the need for manual manipulation. How is she otherwise?"

"Generally uncomfortable," he said shortly, looking at the two doctors who were avoiding eye contact with him. He knew what was coming, he knew what they were going to say.

"And foetal movement? Has she noticed any changes? Anything worrying her?"

"You can ask her yourself tomorrow," he said gently. "I know we had planned on staying for a few more days, but given what happened out there we're leaving for Alexandria before dawn."

Now came the uncomfortable pause, Brea looking up at him tentatively before turning to Mak. Like always he sat there in silence, his arms folded across his chest as he continued perusing some of Denise's notes. Nevertheless Brea was clearly deferring to him, and a short nudge to his arm got his attention…but Rick didn't doubt for a moment that he was perfectly aware of the current tension.

"Given the nature of what happened today," Mak began softly, slowly lowering the notes to look Rick in the eye. "We feel it's unsafe to travel."

"It is. Which is why Carrie needs to stay in Alexandria."

"It is unsafe for _us_ to travel," Mak continued, making his position very clear.

"You know already what a heavy blow it is to lose a doctor, someone who can save lives," Brea said apologetically. "There are two doctors here for over a hundred and twenty people. We're stretched thin as it is. If one of us were to die, it-"

"This was our agreement," Rick reminded her, sitting forward in the chair. "An agreement we made months ago.

"That agreement was made under different circumstances," Mak argued, his tone never wavering outside of softly spoken. "Things have changed. You must bring Carrie to the Kingdom to have her baby."

"No," he said emphatically. "It's safer to travel _now_ , right now. Any Saviours out there are busy licking their wounded pride, we can travel safely tonight, but after that-"

"I'm sorry, Rick. But-"

"Does Richard know about this?"

"Richard?"

"Yes, Richard. Is this coming from him, or you?"

"I have no doubt you'll bring this to his attention."

Rick hesitated, his argument on the tip of his tongue, but that's where it had to stay. He knew what he wanted to do, that he ought to demand Brea come back with him, to remind her of the dangers Carrie faced without a doctor's support for the birth, but it would be wasted breath. Brea and Mak knew all these things already, and though it was them with who he was concerned, they were not the ones he needed to negotiate with. Instead he changed tact, simply nodding his head as if submitting to their will.

"Thank you for seeing us," he said, and though he was sincere in his gratitude they could no doubt feel his dissatisfaction.

Making it clear the meeting was over he rose to his feet and gestured for Carrie's file, taking it back and then thanking them each one more time. Out in the hall he found Carl patiently waiting, and sitting opposite him was Lana and Sasha, the latter attempting to take Denise's place as a supportive face. While Carl was no doubt curious as to why Lana was there to see the doctors, for teenagers did tend to be nosy sometimes, Rick doubted he had been rude enough to ask.

"Lana, come on in," Brea said, giving her a welcoming smile as she held the door open and waited for her.

Her eyes downcast Lana got to her feet, clutching her own medical file that was marred with spots of Denise's blood, and she went in alone. Leaving Sasha to wait for her, Rick and Carl made their way down the hall to the next room where Daryl was laying in recovery, resting now that he was out of the woods.

"What's up with Lana?" Carl whispered. "Is she sick?"

"That's none of our business," he said pointedly, a gentle reprimand.

"But if she's sick, then w-"

"None of our business," he repeated, knocking before opening the door to the room where Daryl was recovering.

All was quiet inside, the room dimly lit by a single lamp near Daryl's bed. He lay quietly on his side, appearing to be asleep and resting comfortably. Coming inside and approaching the bedside he began to gauge the room, feeling the tension. On one side of Daryl's bed sat Abraham, his feet kicked up onto another chair while he closed his eyes and got some rest of his own, while on the other side of the bed sat Rosita. Glaring daggers at Abraham she was the epitome of _if looks could kill_. Clearly there had been no progress in terms of her proffering forgiveness. Hell, though he had largely stayed out of their messy breakup Rick couldn't blame her for the way she felt.

"What's the consensus?" he asked her quietly, gesturing to Daryl.

"He won't stay here," she murmured, looking at him exasperation. "But Mak wants him to stay at least until tomorrow. If there's going to be complications, they'll happen in the next few hours."

Rick sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied Daryl's sleeping form. How long did they have before Dwight and his men regrouped and were back on the hunt? Their window of opportunity to get home safely was short, but he had to weigh that up against the risks of taking Daryl out of the doctor's care too quickly.

"They want him to stay a week, but if we don't take him home with us he'll only make things worse trying to get back alone."

"I have to agree with you there," Rick replied, knowing what to expect when it came to Daryl. "We'll wait as long as we can…see what happens in the next few hours. I want you to get a full run down from Mak. You're our doctor now."

Not dwelling on the magnitude of those words, Rick nudged Abrahams' chair with his foot, suspecting that he wasn't really asleep. Rousing immediately he sat up in his chair and gave Rick an expectant look, wanting to know how things went with the doctors, but his silence said it all. Knowing he had Abraham on board for what they needed to do he glanced over at Rosita to gauge her opinion, relieved when she gave him a short nod of agreement.

"Wait here with Daryl," he instructed Carl, gesturing to the chair that Abraham was now vacating. "Help him if he needs to get up."

Needing to enact the next step whether they liked it or not, Rick and Abraham left the rest of their group behind and began organising themselves.

* * *

Thursday, February 19

They waited as long as they could, but in the end there was no denying that they had to arrive home before daylight. It was approaching four o'clock in the morning, by now making it twelve hours since Daryl had come out of Mak and Brea's surgery, and he had been stable since then. He had outright refused all requests to stay at the Kingdom, and had endured Mak's lengthy lecture about the risks of being stabbed in the lower gut, but he was not to be swayed. Whether they liked it or not Daryl was coming home with them, and praying that he wasn't signing his death warrant by letting him have his way, Rick agreed to take him home.

It was bitterly cold out this early in the morning, a light sprinkling of rain making Rick antsy to get back on the road as soon as possible. They had little else to pack other than some emergency gas and drinking water, making their efforts to get on underway blissfully short. In the open trunk of the borrowed station wagon lay Denise's body, tenderly wrapped in a white sheet the Kingdom had given them. Tomorrow they would arrange a funeral and bury her in Alexandria, arrangements they were becoming too well practiced in.

Waiting out in the cold dark night with them were Richard and Jesus, the latter having made his own journey from the Hilltop to take collection of the guns Rick had brought with them. Having lost their armoury to the Saviours a long time ago, Jesus and the Hilltop were solely dependant on the weapons and ammunition that Alexandria and the Kingdom were supplying them with, weapons without which left them ill equipped to wage war against the Saviours. Rick felt bad about what he was about to do, for his fight wasn't with Jesus, but it was Jesus who would suffer the fall out if Richard didn't meet his demands.

From around the corner another vehicle arrived, a light grey van that was also on loan from the Kingdom. Abraham was in the driver's seat, and he pulled it to a stop behind the station wagon and waved Rick over, wanting him to take a look. Opening the passenger door he looked into the rear, noting that it was separated from the driver's cabin by a steel cage. Every element came under scrutiny now, Rick seizing the cage and giving it a rough shake to test its stability. Though the van and the cage wasn't the most ideal for their needs it would be sufficient for a brief journey home. They would have to tolerate some poor company in the back, but it would be safe enough…it would be worth it too.

Joining them a short while later was the rest of the group, Daryl wrapped in a warm blanket and sitting in a wheelchair. He was still sedated, likely the only reason anyone had convinced him to sit in a wheelchair, and lingering awkwardly by his side was Lana. Nevertheless to her credit she was there, fussing with the blanket around his shoulders and making sure the IV bag didn't become kinked. Perhaps it was for the best that Daryl was sedated and couldn't tell her to quit with the fussing.

Eager to be back on the road Rick came forward to help, and between he and Rosita they helped Daryl get to his feet and then into the car, taking the front passenger seat. "You alright?" he asked in concern, taking care not to jostle the surgical drain in his side.

Daryl nodded affirmatively, his elbow instinctually coming to hover in front his wound, protecting it from any bumps. Though he was conscious his eyes were glassy, and when he spoke his words were slurring. "Wha' she do?"

Following his directions Rick looked up, unsurprised to find Lana still hovering a few yards away, clutching Daryl's pillow. "I don't know," he answered, for there was only one thing to which Daryl must be referring to. "You want the pillow?"

Not giving an answer Daryl's eyes fluttered closed, grimacing a little as he turned away. Gesturing to Lana for the pillow he carefully slipped it behind Daryl's lower back, spreading out the blanket to ensure sure he would be warm and comfortable for the journey home.

"I just need one more minute," he said to Sasha, gesturing to where Richard and Jesus stood waiting nearby. "We'll be on the road soon."

"We doing this?" she clarified, looking to Abraham. They all knew what the play was, and they were all ready to stick to their demands if they had to.

"We're about to find out," Abraham said gruffly, he and Rick turning away to get a start on things.

Until their journey today it had been their intention to share their newfound knowledge of the Saviours, the information Lana's group had given them critical to gaining an advantage over a group that had more numbers and firepower. But now that knowledge was leverage in Alexandria's favour, leverage that Rick now had to utilise whether he liked it or not. Everything was going smoothly, Ezekiel seemed to be on board with their plans, and Jesus had things under control at the Hilltop…there was only one bump in the road that had to be addressed.

"We're grateful for what you've done," he began, wanting to at least start on good terms. "I can't thank you enough for saving Daryl's life."

Richard nodded slowly. "If the tables were turned, I know Alexandria would do the same for my people…they are," he emphasised, acknowledging their alliance.

Not letting Richard's gratitude influence him, no matter how genuine it was, Rick began the difficult conversation. "We've come to learn a great deal about the Saviours," he started, pleased by the way Richard's eyes widened in surprise. "We know where they live, the floor plans of their building, how many outposts they have, how many spotters on which highways…"

"How?" Richard asked in awe, looking between him and Abraham. "Did you follow them again?"

"The how doesn't matter," Rick answered, keeping quiet about Lana's history.

"Well, let's…" Richard began, trailing off when he looked around at the cars. Realisation slowly dawned on him. They were leaving immediately….they weren't sharing any of this with him. "Rick, you need to tell me these things. We're in an alliance."

"We will tell you," he agreed, glancing at Abraham before continuing. "But first, we need the agreement we already reached months ago. I want Brea to come to Alexandria, now."

Richard's face fell, and though he tried to hide it he wasn't quick enough. "I've heard that things have changed for them. I spoke with Brea last night."

"They're scared. So are we, but the fact is, we need Brea in Alexandria. That was part of our understanding."

"Our understanding?" Richard questioned, sounding perturbed. "For your allegiance?"

"Yes."

"No," he said firmly, shaking his head. "It may have been an arrangement, but it wasn't the terms of your allegiance."

"It is now," Abraham stated. "Brea comes with us tonight, or we're out…and we take our guns home with us."

"Surely you can understand why they don't want to travel," Richard implored them, gesturing to the back of the station wagon where Denise's body lay.

"Carrie is thirty six weeks pregnant, and the baby is breech," Rick stated, holding firmly to his ground. "This is serious for her. She cannot travel."

"It's safer to travel right now," Abraham reminded him. "Those pricks are off cowering in the dirt somewhere. It has to be tonight."

Richard sighed, looking down at the ground as he collected his thoughts, and they allowed him a few moments. "I can't, Rick. I'm sorry."

"Not good enough."

"I can't make her go if she doesn't want to go!"

"Figure something out."

"It's not just me, it's Ezekiel," he argued, trying to make them hear him out. "He won't force her to leave against their will, he won't force either of our doctors. He's still on the fence about this whole thing as it is, this could tip him in the wrong direction."

"Then we're out," he threatened. "We'll take our guns home and all our information. Where would that leave you, Jesus?"

Having been trying to stay out of the debate, Jesus only reluctantly looked up at them. He stood there with his arms folded across his chest, his face set in a blank stare, but now he seemed worried. Apologetic, he turned to Richard. "They're right, Richard."

"Don-"

"We need those guns," he implored. "I cannot go home and ask people to fight the Saviours with spears."

"I'm giving you guns too."

"Ans Gregory? He's even more on the fence than Ezekiel. I have half a mind not to tell him that we're going through with it, I definitely can't tell him that Rick's not on board."

Infuriated, Richard turned back to Rick. "You can't pull out," he stated forcefully. "You need this alliance as much as I do! You could be only weeks away from them attacking you. What happened today is nothing. A bee sting in comparison!"

"We need each other," Rick emphasised. "I have information and weapons that you need, and you have a doctor I need. It doesn't get more simple than that."

There was a long and uncomfortable pause now, all of them looking at Richard expectantly, awaiting his decision. One way or another his decision affected all three groups. Either he accepted Rick's terms and they proceeded as planned, or he rejected them and everything ground to a halt, Jesus going home with only half his promised stockpile and Rick taking his guns and information home to Alexandria. As they waited Rick made a rare prayer inside his head, praying that Richard didn't call his bluff. He was not naive, he knew that he couldn't take on the Saviours without the other two groups to support him…if Richard called his bluff he would not only be forced to bring Carrie here, but he would lose all future bargaining power should something else arise to negotiate.

"Can you give me two weeks to talk Brea around?" Richard asked, his voice heavy with need. "Please. Just two weeks for the dust to settle on what happened today."

Rick shook his head, as did Abraham. "No. It has to be now."

"It's not enough notice."

"It has to be now, before Dwight has a chance to regroup."

"One week."

"No," Rick said again, more forcefully this time. Seeing that he was getting somewhere he took a step forward, holding Richard's gaze and adding the pressure. "I don't care which, but one of your doctors comes with us now, or I'm done with you."

"Bring Carrie here. It's not worth losing this alliance over!"

"So don't lose this alliance. Make it happen, Richard. Now."

When another long pause came to pass, he and Abraham took a risk. With a heavy sigh Abraham turned and started making his way towards the truck, rifling through his pockets to find the keys.

"Last chance," Rick began gently, watching Abraham slowly approaching the vehicle. "The moment he starts that engine, we're going."

"Richard," Jesus hissed, stepping between he and Rick to say something to him in private. They spoke in hushed tones for a moment, and then Jesus whirled around to Rick. "My doctor will come Alexandria. Dr Carson, he's an obstetrician. He will deliver your baby."

"It's a generous offer, but I can't accept."

"He's already agreed. He and I discussed it the day your group came to visit, when he met Carrie."

"Carson's your only doctor," Rick shook his head. "Richard has two."

"Just," Richard began heavily, looking over his shoulder as Abraham swung open the door to the truck's cabin, slowly climbing the side steps. "Rick, please…we can make this work."

"You know what I want."

"Can you blame Brea for not wanting to go?" he berated him, his frustration growing. "She was there the day Frank died. Please Rick, she saw it too…she's scared."

"So is Carrie."

When Abraham made quite the show of slamming the door shut and settling himself into the cabin, Richard seemed to finally come around. "Just give me a couple of days. I'll bring her to you."

"You?" he questioned. "You'll bring her to Alexandria yourself?"

"Yes, I will."

"When?"

"I need some time to talk her into it. A few days."

"When?"

"Sunday," he blurted out. "I'll bring her to Alexandria by noon, Sunday. Come on Rick…we have to meet each other halfway here."

Sunday. That was a mere three days away, and though it wasn't quite what he wanted he'd be a fool to reject those terms. It was better than nothing. "Sunday, noon. Not a minute later."

"You'll tell us the information you have?" Richard clarified.

"You get her there as agreed, and I'll give you every last, horrible detail."

Nodding, Richard extended his hand to shake on it, but Rick paused a moment longer. Though he looked to Abraham and gestured for him to wait, he wasn't yet done playing hardball. "As guarantee, I'm taking back all of my weapons. You can have them on Sunday."

Jesus sighed, this decision affecting him the most. "Rick, I can't go home with half of what I promised."

"I need a guarantee," he apologised, already walking past him. "I'm sorry."

"I'll be your guarantee!" he argued, the volume of his voice drawing attention from those around them. "Come on Rick, please."

"I'm sorry."

Before he could take another step Jesus has darted in front of him, raising his hands in front of himself, asking Rick to stop. Seeing the desperation on his face he slowed to a stop, and despite his determination he found himself willing to hear the young guy out.

"I will guarantee the agreement," Jesus emphasised, looking him in the eye. "I will make sure Richard gets Brea to Alexandria on time."

"In which case, you can collect your weapons then."

"No, come on Rick," he said, looking as though he were about to shove him in a fit of anger. "When have we ever fucked you over?" he demanded, swearing for the first time ever. "When have Richard or I _ever_ fucked you over?"

Holding his gaze, Rick said nothing…there was nothing to say to that.

"That's right," Jesus stated, taking a deep breath before stepping back a little. "We haven't...and we won't. Please Rick, I need those guns tonight. All of them."

As the light rain began dripping down his forehead Rick took a moment to consider it, but he could not argue the valid point Jesus had made. Aside from his delay in telling him about the Saviours in the first place, neither Richard nor Jesus had ever outright fucked him over. The Kingdom had bent over backwards for Alexandria on multiple occasions, and there was no real reason not to trust them. It was time for him to meet them halfway, to compromise. Looking up at Abraham in the truck he gestured for him to come down, and Jesus breathed a visible sigh of relief.

"You have my word," Jesus assured him, shaking his hand. "One way or another, you'll have a doctor in Alexandria by Sunday."

"You have my word too," Richard assured him, he too offering his hand a second time to shake.

Shaking both of their hands, Rick told himself that he had made the right decision. "Thank you," he said sincerely, meaning it. "I'll see you Sunday, at noon."

"Sunday at noon," he repeated, walking Rick and Abraham towards the van where Carl was waiting. "You're sure that's a good idea?" he asked, gesturing to the van.

As Sasha started the engine of the station wagon Rick glanced towards Daryl in the front passenger seat, thinking of how they could have lost him that day. The sight of Denise's body wrapped in a white sheet in the trunk of the car was what confirmed to him that this really was a good idea…he dreaded that in a short time he would be rousing Tara from her sleep to give her the news, that he would have to break her heart.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Without any further delay they departed the Kingdom, Sasha taking the lead in the station wagon while Abraham, Carl and Rick followed in the van. Behind them came the military truck with Jesus at the wheel, who followed them until they reached the edge of the city where they parted ways, the two groups heading in different directions to get home. Outside of the Kingdom's safe territory they travelled the highways without incident, the roads entirely free of Walkers and threats of any kind, yet it was impossible to relax.

All too soon they reached the spot where it happened, their green Hyundai still abandoned in the middle of the road. With caution they slowed to a stop a few yards away, letting the engines idle as they scoped out their surroundings, but just as they suspected there were no signs of the Saviours having returned. Confident to proceed Rick donned a set of the heavy duty gloves they had brought with them from the Kingdom, passing some to Carl and Abraham too.

"Stick with Abe," he requested of Carl as they stepped out of the van and back into the cold February night. "I'll be right back."

Wanting to check on Daryl he made his way towards the others, glad they left the engine was still idling and ready to go at a moment's notice. As he approached the driver's side Sasha lowered the window.

"Is he asleep?" Rick asked in disbelief, looking through to where Daryl sat. His eyes were closed and his head lolled against his shoulder…it was unusual to see him looking so peaceful.

"Brea slipped him a little more sedative before we left," Sasha explained.

"I thought he was being too cooperative," he joked under his breath as he glanced into the back where Rosita and Lana sat together. He didn't know what resulted from Lana's visit with the doctors, if a decision had been made or if she had received the pills she asked for…all he knew was that she had a big decision on her shoulders right now.

"Five minutes, that's all?" Sasha asked, though it was more of a reminder than a question.

"Five minutes," he assured her. "Maybe ten."

"Five minutes," she emphasised.

At this Rosita opened the back door and hastily stepped outside, making a point of slamming the door. "I'll get our stuff out," she said shortly, marching off towards the abandoned Hyundai.

Sensing that one could cut the tension in that car with a knife he didn't refuse her help, merely giving Sasha what he hoped was a sympathetic shrug. Reassuring her that they would make quick work of their task he rejoined the others, Abraham giving a loud whistle that wasn't completely necessary. Already they could hear movement through the darkness, the Walkers having been drawn by the sound of their engines and their headlights.

"Here," Carl said, drawing their attention to a Walker emerging from the grassy area on the side of the road. "That one. He's fresh."

"Fresh as the turd under my boot," Abraham agreed.

Luring the Walker in close Rick gave it a once over, agreeing with the observation that it was one of the Saviours they had killed that afternoon. Judging by its messed up face and its difficulty walking he suspected it was one that Carl had mowed down with their military truck, though he tried not to think about that too much. It was all too easy to get it into the van, Rick and Abraham gave it a rough shove inside before Carl quickly slammed the doors shut.

From there the work became a little more difficult, Rosita jogging over to help them as they took on three more Walkers, interested only in those that were Saviours. With Carl climbing into the front to lure the Walkers away from the doors they quickly managed to get all of them in the back, securing them there for the thirty minute journey back home to Alexandria.

Rick knew what he was doing was sick, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity…the Saviours who helped kill Denise were soon to be Alexandria's newest guards on spikes.

* * *

A/N Hi readers - bit of a hastily finished chapter, but I hope you enjoyed Rick turning the tables and putting some pressure on the Kingdom.

Maybe bit of a delay for chapter 38, but it's a new Lana and Daryl scene that I absolutely had to write. Without it the rest of their story arc just isn't as strong, so it will be worth the wait.

And just as in the TV series, after Dwight's first attack things start ramping up for Alexandria!


	38. Chapter 38

Two weeks ago this chapter was non-existent. The first draft was an absolute train wreck, the second draft slightly improved, and then the third draft finally came together mere hours ago. I'm so pleased that I managed to write this, I love what developed here, and it perfectly covers everything I had been trying and failing to communicate in future chapters. The rest of the story is better for this chapter, and I hope you love it!

* * *

Sunday, February 22

"Are you sure you're ready to do this?" Carol asked, and not for the first time. "You know you don't have to."

Standing at the kitchen counter, Lana stared at the Tupperware container of lasagne, the innocuous serving of food acting as the catalyst for one of the most difficult conversations she would ever have. She was feeling sick to her stomach with nerves, though the nausea could be attributed to other things, her recent life decision included. For the longest time she stood there in deep thought, itching for a cigarette to steady her nerves. Instead she chewed her gum a little more fiercely, summoning her courage.

 _Fucking hell…you can strut a cat walk in an itty bitty g-string…you can do this too._

"I got this," she said out loud, looking up at Carol. "I want to do it now."

Carol nodded, her support having wavered not once over the last few months. "You wanna practice one last time?"

"No, I'm just gonna do it," she decided, clearing her throat and then taking the gum out of her mouth to dispose of.

Pressing the Tupperware container into her hands, Carol looked her in the eye. "I know exactly what he's going to say…everything will be just fine."

Quietly thanking her, Lana took the container of food and then turned on her heel, forcing herself to walk out of the house and to do this. She couldn't put it off any longer, she was already supposed to have done this an hour ago…poor man was probably starving for lunch by now.

Days had passed since their return from the Kingdom, since that horrible attack in which Denise had died. This was hardly the time for her to be making huge life decisions, but as the dust settled on the attack and the community descended into mourning that's exactly what Lana had done. Carol had a way of making things clearer to her, the innate ability to find exactly the words she needed to hear…just not the words she wanted to hear. It had taken surprisingly little time for Lana to come to her decision, one that she had reached entirely on her own. Carol's support was making the world of difference, she didn't think she'd have the strength to carry out her decision without her there practically holding her hand.

 _Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life._

Those were the words Carol had said when Lana told her the decision she had reached, the words that seemed to seal the deal for her. Carol was right, this was indeed the first day of the rest of her life, the first day of her _new_ life. Change was coming for her, perhaps the biggest change she had ever made since the day she set foot in America at the young age of sixteen. It was terrifying what she was doing, almost as terrifying as the prospect of saying the words out loud to a person other than Carol. What she was about to say was not only life changing for her, but for someone else too, and though she'd like to think she could allow him a few more days of not having this over his head, now was the time to do it.

If she didn't do it now, she didn't know when she'd summon the nerve again.

When she reached Rick and Carrie's house she made an active effort to slow her breathing down, highly conscious of the way her heart was racing inside her chest. She gripped the container of food tightly, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth as she crossed the porch. Her mere presence here was probably going to raise some eyebrows and arouse curiosity, but she needed to get this over with. Once it was done she could go home to Carol and Tobin and hide for the rest of her days. Reaching the front door she drew a fist and knocked loudly, starting to rehearse the words in her head.

"Come in!"

Hearing the faint call from inside she opened the door and peered inside, but when she felt the warmth from the burning fireplace she made quick work of getting in and closing the door, not wanting to let the cold air get in. She looked around the living room and wondered where everyone was, taking note of the toys and blocks scattered haphazardly about…it was awfully quiet for a home that housed a tornado-like toddler.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Carl greeted her, looking over the back of the couch. "Wha's up?"

Relieved to find someone, Lana tentatively moved towards the living room where she found Carl and Enid sitting on the couch together, the television playing a movie of some kind. "Is Daryl upstairs?"

"Yep," he nodded, turning his attention back to the television.

"And…and Carrie?"

"Dunno."

"At all? You've got no idea?"

"Nope, and I don't care," he sighed. "So long as she's not here driving me crazy."

"She's asleep upstairs," Enid spoke up, looking at Carl in exasperation. "She told us she was going for a nap."

"Oh, yeah," he frowned before slowly smiling at her.

Trying not to roll her eyes at the lovelorn teens, Lana looked into the kitchen and wondered if it was okay for her to just make herself at home. She turned back to Carl to ask where the plates were, and it was then she noticed his arm was around Enid's shoulder. "Are you two allowed to be alone together?" she blurted out, recalling that she wasn't allowed at his age.

Their reaction was instant, Enid cringing in embarrassment as she moved away from Carl's embrace, while he simply glared at her. "Way to make things awkward," he complained.

"Sorry. I'm just taking this up to Daryl," she apologised, gesturing to the Tupperware container. "I'll get out of your hair."

"Be careful," Enid warned. "Last time Carl told him to get back into bed he threatened to shove his head up his own ass."

"I'll bet that was the polite version," she muttered under her breath, wondering if this was really the best time to be seeing him.

Nevertheless she was there, and she wasn't stopping now. Trying not to disturb the two teenagers any more than she already had she made her way into Carrie's kitchen and started looking around, quickly finding a plate and the cutlery draw. When she stood there watching the plate of lasagne turning around in the microwave she tried not to feel like she was being a complete stereotype by bringing food to someone on bed rest. But Carol had made this for him, and she had jumped at the reason to see him…if that made her a stereotype, then so be it. She needed a pretext to the difficult conversation they were about to have, and if it couldn't be alcohol or cigarettes it had to be food.

When she made her way upstairs she took care to keep her footsteps light, not wanting to disturb Carrie asleep in the master bedroom. Yet when she reached the first floor and turned to the staircase to the attic, Lana couldn't help but peek through the open doors of her bedroom. It made her shudder in embarrassment to think that she had once been in there snooping, back when her head was in the clouds and she was seething with envy. Much had changed since then, and when she looked inside the bedroom she managed a small smile. Carrie lay fast asleep with a stack of pillows to make her and the belly comfortable, while beside her Judith was sprawled out wide, somehow taking up most of the bed. Both were a brief glimpse into Lana's own future, one she had only recently decided to take on.

Leaving them undisturbed she slowly made her way up the final staircase, again rehearsing everything she had to say, but the moment she reached Daryl's room words evaded her. The curtain that acted as a makeshift door was open, revealing to her the sight of him leaning out through his open window. Her heart leapt into her throat, horrified to see that he was making a break for it out onto the roof.

"Where the bloody hell do you think you're going?" she questioned in outrage. "What, are you gonna climb down the damn roof?"

In quiet disbelief Daryl turned to face her, though he made no effort to bring himself back inside the window. His expression was one of astonishment, his lips parted in a surprised gape, and then slowly he explained. Bringing one arm up he revealed the lit cigarette he held between his two fingers, and then understanding dawned on her.

"She's a damn blood hound," he muttered, gesturing to the stairs behind her. "Carrie. She knows I'm not s'posed to be smokin'."

Lana's cheeks reddened in embarrassment, realising she had made a fool of herself. "Oh, right," she muttered. "Sorry."

She now stood there awkwardly, bracing herself for his usual quick witted retort, for him to ask if she had hurt herself jumping to conclusions, but he said nothing of the sort. Instead he was just looking at her, the precious tobacco burning away unnoticed. But before she could get too ahead of herself she realised it wasn't her that he was looking at, but rather the plate of food in her hands.

"Carol sent it over," she explained, starting to wish she could just sink into the floor. This was not going according to the script in her head. "It's lasagne."

"Thanks," he muttered, turning his attention back to the cigarette. He took one last draw and then leant outside again, likely stubbing it out on the roof tiles.

Closing the window behind himself he got to his feet and made his way over to the bed, picking up his shirt and gingerly slipping it on. As he redressed Lana looked at the crisp white bandage wound around his hips, remembering the horrible journey into Washington in which he lay there bleeding. He normally maintained a stiff upper lip when it came to injuries, simply brushing hard scrapes and bruises aside as if they were nothing, which was what scared her so much to see him in pain, to see the look of fear on his face. The stab wound had been bad…it could have been so much worse.

"Brea here yet?" he asked gruffly, buttoning up his shirt. "She's s'posed to take this damn thing out."

"The drain?" she asked, recalling the extent of his treatment.

"Yeah. She 'ere?"

Lana shook her head. "I think they're running late."

At this he looked up in concern, peering at her through the hair that fell over his face. "What's the time?"

"Almost two."

He held her gaze for a few moments, worried. "Ain't like them to be that late," he murmured, restlessly shifting his weight between his feet. "They radio in yet?"

"Rick's all over it. He said you should stay in bed," she added, though technically this was more of an unspoken instruction where Daryl was concerned.

"Oh yeah? Well Rick ca-"

"Shove his head up his own ass?"

Having started towards the doorway he came to a dead stop, looking at her in annoyance. But to her relief his frustration seemed to turn into bemusement, for she could see the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to hide a rare smile.

"That's not what I was gon' say," he muttered, fixing the last button on his shirt before starting to roll up the sleeves.

"What were you going to say?"

Changing the subject he turned his attention to the plate of lasagne she held, appearing to give it his approval. "Thanks," he said as he took the plate from her, turning away and slowly sitting down on his couch. "Looks good."

"It is," she nodded, feeling her heart beginning to pound again. She could feel it there in her chest, beating uncomfortably against her ribs, and it was rather distracting. Taking a deep breath she tried to figure out how to start, trying to gauge if he wanted her to leave now that she had delivered the meal. But she didn't suffer in turmoil for too long, for when she made no move to go Daryl looked up at her with uncertainty, his fork poised midair.

"You…you wanna sit?"

Lana hesitated, still rehearsing the words she had to say. "In a minute," she began, taking a deep breath. "There's something I have to say first."

Not looking surprised, Daryl took his first bite of the lasagne and then leaned back into the couch, balancing the plate on his knee. "Figured you weren't here 'cos of the food," he said with his mouth half full. Despite trying to look perfectly at ease he was staring straight into his plate, no doubt suspecting what she was there to discuss.

Lana allowed herself one more moment before beginning, unable to put this off any longer. "I'm not here because of the food…I'm here because I'm staying in Alexandria. I'm done with him."

She paused for a moment to let these words sink in. She had made a point of not saying Vetor's name, feeling like it was practically forbidden these days. Regardless it wasn't necessary. Daryl knew exactly who she was talking about.

"Done, huh," he said lightly, taking another bite of the lasagne. He was still staring at his plate, which was perhaps what made it easier for her to continue.

"Yes. It occurred to me a few days ago that I'm…relieved," she said, feeling her burden easing. Just as it had when she spoke these words to Carol two days ago, now she started to feel better. "I'm relieved he's gone."

Daryl made a noise under his breath, his shoulder jerking ever so slightly. "Ain't ever that simple," he muttered, briefly glancing up at her.

"Well it is," she said firmly, trying to drive that home to him. She'd had days to think this over following her decision, days to come to terms with what it all meant…now it was time for him to hear it. "I thought I'd be chasing him down, begging him to change his mind, but I'm not. He left, and it wasn't as bad as I always thought it would be."

"He ain't really left," he argued, looking up again. "He's out there waiting. Things gon' change when he comes back looking for yah?"

Lana shook herself, but when she started to explain her words caught in her throat, making her take pause a little longer. Trying to collect herself she hastily blinked her watery eyes, taking a deep breath. "Mina and Mitchell are leaving tomorrow. They'll meet up with him…they'll tell him I'm not coming."

At this Daryl seemed to soften, and when he looked up he actually held her gaze. "I thought they were talkin' about staying."

"So did I," she said quickly, her throat starting to tighten again. "I think they changed their minds after what happened to Denise. They don't want to be here for a fight."

There was a long silence now, Daryl still looking up at her, but eventually he looked back down at his plate. He pushed the food around a little, restless in the silence, and then he finally spoke. "So that's it then? They're goin' with him, and you're staying?"

"Yes."

"He gonna come back and change your mind?"

"No," she said firmly, shaking her head. "Even if he did come back, I don't need to say goodbye. I've got nothing left to say."

"Always somethin' left to say."

"Not for me," she stated, certain of this.

As she said these words she felt the tightness in her throat and chest beginning to ease. Merely saying those words to him helped reinforce to her that she had made the right decision, that she really could let go of Vetor once and for all. She would never forget the last words he had spoken to her the night the entire truth came out in the armoury, the cruel words he said in Portuguese so that no one else would hear them. _A whore is always a whore_. He was angry with her, frustrated that she had ruined his plans for them to flee Alexandria, but those words were unforgivable. The more she dwelled on them over the following days the more distant she felt to him…she tried to imagine her dad saying those words to her mum, to imagine him being so cruel to someone he loved. When she knew he would have never said that, it was then she knew that she could join Vetor out on the road, that she _wanted_ to stay in Alexandria.

"I'm keeping the baby."

Her statement was met with silence, and she stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to do something other than take another bite of his food. But when he gave no discernible reaction she continued, wondering if perhaps he hadn't quite heard her.

"I'm keeping it," she repeated. "I gave the pills back, I'm taking prenatal vitamins. Carol is helping me quit smoking," she added, still waiting for him to react. "I've got a nicotine patch and everything."

"Good for you," he murmured, still not looking up. "That's real good."

Lana's heart was sinking fast. She was never going to hold him to any responsibility that he didn't want, her enormous decision had been made independent of his involvement, but didn't he had anything to say? She wanted to demand a reaction from him, to pointedly remind him that it was his fucking kid she was going to have, but she held her tongue.

"You can come to the ultrasound if you want," she began, preparing the most rehearsed words of all of them. "But if you don't want anything to do with this, I get it."

Daryl's fork stopped mid air, and for a moment he sat there still. "You want me to come?"

"If you want to. There won't be much to see, it's too early."

He seemed to consider this, and then he took another bite of food. "I'll come," he muttered, talking with his mouth full.

"You don't have to."

"I said I'll come," he said sharply, looking up at her in annoyance.

His willingness to come to the ultrasound left her feeling taken aback…after days of preparing herself for the worst, for him to refuse any involvement whatsoever, he wanted to come. It was a good sign, a good first step, though admittedly one she hadn't prepared for. Standing there before him she slowly took it all in, getting her thoughts in order while he continued eating. The silence between them was excruciatingly uncomfortable, and her self-doubt told her to get out while she was ahead. She had to leave before she did something to make him change his mind.

"I'll let you know when," she muttered, taking a step back before turning away.

"Where you goin'?"

Stopping in the threshold she looked at him over her shoulder, surprised to see he was disappointed with her departure…not that he didn't try to hide it.

"Thought you was gon' sit," he said pointedly, gesturing to the other end of the couch.

Considering the merits of it, Lana summoned all of her courage and then elected to stay. He had invited her to sit…he wanted her to stay.

"Weekend at Bernies," she said conversationally, picking up the DVD from the coffee table. Latching onto a safe talking point she settled onto the couch and looked at the cover.

"Glenn brought it over." There was a brief pause as she studied the back and read the description, then he continued. "You seen it?"

"No."

"Put it on."

 _Oh, thank fuck_ , she thought to herself. If she was going to stay for a while this was exactly what they needed - something that would allow them to be in one another's company without the pressure of filling the silence. She rose from the couch and took her time organising the television, listening to the sound of Daryl's fork tapping against the plate as he ate.

"How's your hand?"

His question prompted her to look at her hand, observing the three scratches he had left her with the day Denise died. When they were surrounded on all sides by the Saviours she had begun to panic, certain that they would recognise her should they catch so much as a glimpse of her, and Daryl had the same thought too. After shoving her down and locking the doors he had lunged at her, smearing his bloodied hand across her face and through her hair, but when the Saviours got the doors open it was him who panicked. Reaching across Denise he had seized hold of her right hand, wrenching her back to him even as the Saviours wrestled her out. His fingernails dug into the back of her wrist as he tried to grab hold of her coat, but when the Saviours seized him too there was nothing he could do, his sheer desperation leaving her with scratches across her hand and knuckles.

"It's fine," she said lightly, showing him the healing scabs.

"Looked swollen the other day."

Inserting the DVD she resisted the impulse to look back at him again. The only time he had seen her since their return to Alexandria had been the afternoon of Denise's funeral, a time when her hand had indeed been swollen. They had barely spoken that day, he was so out of it on pain killers he could barely stand without Rick and Glenn beside him.

"Not any more," she assured him, showing him her hand again as she came and sat back down on the other end of the couch.

"Good," he muttered, wincing when he leant forward to set his empty plate onto the coffee table.

"Have you seen Tara?" she asked tentatively, broaching the subject of Denise's death. When he shook his head she continued. "I saw her at Denise's grave yesterday. Have you been back since the funeral?"

"Ain't been no where."

At his heavy tone she took pause, getting the feeling he didn't want to talk about it…but she did. It didn't matter that Rick had tried to reassure her none of it was her fault, it felt that way. Carl hadn't needed her, she had only been coming to support her when she discussed terminating the pregnancy. "You seemed to know her pretty well, because of what happened to Carl. Did sh-"

"You gonna hit play, or what?"

Getting the hint Lana promptly shut up about Denise, and instead turned her focus to the television, surprised when he let her take control of the remote. She had expected he'd be the type to insist on maintaining possession, like her dad who couldn't stand the thought of anyone else deciding on the channel or volume. Wondering if he had any other little surprises up his sleeve she set the movie to play and then settled back into the couch, glad they had something to fill the silence for them. Nevertheless she kept watching him from the corner of her eye, anxious that he might not really want her there, that he was just trying to be polite. Unlike Carl and Enid downstairs, Lana and Daryl sat at opposite ends of the couch, which felt odd because she recalled what they had done on this couch, and it did not involve sitting on opposite ends with their clothes on.

"You know, I been called plenty o' names before," he began conversationally, getting comfortable by putting his feet up on the coffee table. "But ain't no one ever called me a dick head."

A smile slowly crept across Lana's face. "Maybe not to your face."

He laughed at her comment, but a split second later the amusement vanished, replaced by a grimace of discomfort. His lips curling downward he let out a slow breath, wincing as he glanced down at his belly. Watching him in concern she resisted the urge to ask him if he was alright, suspecting how that enquiry would be received.

"If you can't laugh maybe this movie isn't such a good idea. How about Titanic?"

"Just watch the damn thing," he admonished, shaking his head at her in exasperation.

Starting to feel a little more comfortable in his company, Lana too settled back and put her feet up on the coffee table. It hadn't escaped her notice that this was really the first time they had been alone in one another's company fully clothed, without sex. Given she was having the baby of a man almost twice her age, perhaps it was a good thing they actually get to know one another on a less intimate level.

* * *

Monday, February 23

Though the drapes were thick enough to keep the warmth in, Lana's comfortable sleep was betrayed by a gap that allowed the sunlight to stream inside. Slowly she began to rouse, eyes blinking slowly as she acquainted herself with the less familiar surroundings, but she was not at all alarmed to awaken in a bed that was not her own. She could sense Daryl behind her, could feel the way the blankets were draped over the gap between their bodies. Moving slowly so as to not awaken him she turned onto her back and looked at him beside her, enjoying the ability to see him in a state she never had before. He was sleeping on his front with his face turned away from her, arms stretched upward and around his pillow. They had shared a bed last night, but just as they had when they sat on the couch watching television they remained completely on their own side, neither of them reaching out to the other. In a way that was a relief, their lack of physical contact easing a small amount of pressure she could feel in the back of her mind.

It was cool up there in his attic bedroom, the space having less insulation in the walls and roof, but she could tell it had been compensated for. The mattress was topped by a plush comforter, making it softer and warmer to sleep on, and it was perfectly complemented by the heated blanket that had been running throughout the night. Feeling the cool air outside the bed Lana pulled the blankets a little higher up over her shoulders, taking care to not pull them away from him by mistake. She hated the cold weather, having never endured it in the north west of Australia. Heat she could handle just fine, but not the cold. Though it was a nice treat when it snowed, the winters here in America always got old quickly, particularly when living on the road.

At this her thoughts turned to Mina and Mitchell who were leaving in a few short hours, allowing themselves just enough time to have one last sleep in and enjoy a hot shower. Conscious of their departure Lana knew she ought to get out of bed, to join them with their last minute packing, to spend time with them. The twin siblings had been part of her group for a year and a half now, and though at times they had been distant and less than sympathetic to her plight with Vetor and as their leader, they were her group. She knew their decision to leave wasn't about her, that they wanted to avoid war with the Saviours and to not leave Vetor alone out there, and for a brief moment she had considered changing her mind. She didn't want to say goodbye to them, to watch them drive away from Alexandria never to be seen again. But this thought had been brief, and she was grateful that they withheld their plans until she had already made her own decision. She was keeping the baby, and she was staying in Alexandria…she couldn't go back to Vetor, even if that meant saying goodbye to Mina and Mitchell.

"I said now. Now!"

At this sound Lana raised her head, frowning in concern. Downstairs someone was yelling…was everything okay down there? When the yelling continued she sat upright, her heart beginning to pound.

"No!" someone yelled back, sounding angrier than the first. "Please, just leave me alone."

"Do not make me say it again. Now!"

Beside her Daryl was moving a little, giving a heavy sigh. "Ain't nothing t' worry about," he murmured.

"What is it?"

"Just the daily drama of getting Carl outta bed."

As if to support this statement, the voice she now placed as Rick's yelled out again. "You've got two minutes to be vertical, or there'll be hell."

While Lana breathed out in relief before slowly laying back down, she felt her cheeks starting to redden. Rick and Carrie both knew she was here, that she had stayed the night, and she dreaded what they might be thinking. Nevertheless she couldn't think about this for long, and while she settled back down she watched as Daryl slowly pushed over onto his back, still moving gingerly.

"It's barely past seven o'clock," she murmured, having checked her watch. "Aren't teenagers supposed to sleep in?"

Daryl murmured in agreement, his hand rubbing his face before falling limp across his chest. "Kid probably wants to lie in bed an' jerk off some mornin' wood…he should cut him a break."

At this Lana managed a smile, relaxing again as she turned onto her side to face him. "Well, we've all had mornings like that."

Giving a light chuckle he slowly sat up, and when he turned his back to her Lana took the opportunity to drink in the sight of him, but not out of lust. She had seen only fleeting glimpses until now, for he almost always shied away from completely undressing when they had sex, but today she had a completely uninterrupted view of his back. Last night they had gone to sleep almost fully clothed, Lana ditching her jeans only in the name of sleeping comfortably, and Daryl too had been fully clothed. But at some stage during the night he had taken his shirt off, allowing her to now study the array of scars on his back. Unlike the last time she had seen them she didn't try to touch them, recalling that he was particularly skittish about that. Instead she simply studied them, her eyes roving his body in the brief moments in which he fumbled around in his nightstand. The scars were old and mottled, but they were deep pink in some places, unlike the scars from her motorcycle accident which were still bright pink.

Having found what he was looking for, a pack of cigarettes, Daryl rose to his feet and then reached for his shirt where he had left it across the foot of his bed. Taking her last opportunity she looked at the two tattoos, not surprised to see they more resembled demons than angels. Seconds later his shirt was on, and he was glancing at her as if embarrassed that she had been looking. She too feeling a little embarrassed Lana quickly averted her eyes, wondering if she was beginning to overstay her welcome. There had always been an unspoken agreement that they would share a cigarette after sex, and then it was time to leave, both of them.

"I should probably go," she began tentatively, sitting up again. "I should be with Mina and Mitchell."

He was sitting on the edge of the attic window now, cracking it open just a little before lighting the cigarette. "If that's what you want."

Detecting a hint of disappointment, she wondered if perhaps the cigarette wasn't his subtle way of telling her to go. Though she remained sitting she pulled the blankets higher up her shoulder again, feeling the draught coming in from the window. Nothing about last night had gone the way she expected it too. As the movie progressed they became more and more at ease with one another, and when it reached its inevitable conclusion it felt only natural for her to rifle through his collection of DVDs to select another. Before they knew it night had fallen, the hours having slipped by without the pressure of forcing conversation.

When Carrie had called upstairs asking if he was ready for dinner, Daryl had called back that Lana was there too, that she was staying for dinner. This had been met with surprised silence, the type that made Lana's insides writhe in anxiety, but to her credit Carrie merely asked if she wanted a soda with her meal. Though it would be embarrassing to go down there and admit she was alone in Daryl's bedroom, she couldn't stand the thought of a pregnant woman carrying a tray of food up two flights of stairs.

"I'll go down and get our plates," she murmured, getting up from where they had been sitting on the couch.

"Carl brings it up," he simply stated, but the way his body language changed suggested to her that he thought she was leaving, that she was using this as an excuse to ditch out on him.

Conscious of that she had made sure to not dawdle, and summoning all of her guts she went down and prepared to face the Grimes family. But to her relief she wasn't met with a number of accusatory stares, merely the sight of Judith sitting in her high chair eating her dinner, grinning as she dropped her spoon to the floor and used her hands. Michonne too was there, but as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening she merely said hello before continuing to bustle around the kitchen, putting together containers of food to take to those on watch.

"You want some of everything?" Carrie asked, gesturing to the two plates on the counter, one laden with food and the other empty.

"Mom!" Judith shouted, banging her hand on the highchair tray. "More peas?"

"Eat your beans first," Carrie said sternly, brandishing a pair of tongs at her. "Lana? Everything?"

"Yeah, please," she said, watching Judith from the corner of her eye.

"Mo-om!" she called again, her voice getting louder. "I need more. _Pleash_ …"

Ignoring her demands Carrie started serving up Lana's plate, and though rations were meagre these days she was generous. Tonight it was her turn to cook meals for those taking watch, so perhaps she had a little more to work with.

"There's soda in the refrigerator, help yourself."

"Thanks, Carrie."

"Mommy!"

"For the love of God, Judy, eat your beans first! Every night the same argu - oh, Lana wait," Carrie stopped her as she headed for the hall. Hastening to the refrigerator she opened and reached inside, and then she came over and swapped the can of cola on Daryl's plate for a can of Orange Crush. "He won't drink Coke, he says it rots your teeth."

"Thanks," she said gratefully, appreciating the tip, surprising though it was.

Carrie lingered a moment longer, still ignoring Judith's demands for more peas. "You should ask him about how he got his teeth fixed for free," she suggested, throwing her a bone. "It's a good story…it's typical Daryl."

Indeed it was a good story, one that managed to fill the thirty minutes in which they ate together, and from there things only got easier. One comfortable conversation sparked another, and for the first time in the all the months since knowing him they actually talked like two people, enjoying one another's company as if a dark cloud didn't linger over their shoulders. She didn't recall exactly how she ended up staying the night with him, though she knew it had been at his invitation. Nothing had happened between the two of them, and she wasn't sure it ever would again. Right now she couldn't tell where things stood between them, if trying to make things anymore than they currently were was even a good thing. Daryl was almost twice her age, he could rightfully be called a cradle snatcher…did that bother him? Did it bother her?

"How's them cravings?" he asked her now, still sitting at the window sill smoking the cigarette.

She grimaced, wishing he hadn't brought that up. "Fucking horrible," she admitted glumly, looking at his cigarette in longing. "Between putting up with me and Carol both quitting I don't know how Tobin hasn't run off."

Daryl chuckled lightly, though he pressed his elbow against his stab wound when he did so. "I tried quittin' once, before all this," he said conversationally. "Wanted more money for beer an' shit, but ended up spendin' it all on Big Macs."

"Big Macs?"

He nodded. "Put on damn near fifteen pounds just from eatin' through the cravings…had a gut on me. It's good she's helpin' yah quit."

Nodding in agreement she restlessly picked at the nicotine patch on her arm, knowing she was due for a new one by now. "Carol's been great," she murmured, not mentioning that were it not for her support she might have crumbled, might have terminated the pregnancy and gone with Vetor after all.

Conversation stalled at the sound of more yelling from downstairs, Rick having returned to hustle Carl out of bed. Finishing his cigarette Daryl closed the window and got up, pinching his shirt and shaking it as if trying to rid himself of the smell. It was ineffective, and when he lay back down into bed beside her Lana could barely resist the urge to move closer to him, to get close up and take a deep breath. She could smell it on him, could taste the tobacco on her tongue, and when she clenched her hands together and told herself to resist she only felt the craving grow. Fuck, it would feel so good to have a cigarette between her lips, it would be better than sex…even sex with Daryl.

"Maybe I oughta cut back," he murmured, moving away when he noticed the expression on her face.

"If I have to get fat, then you should too."

Forcing herself to, Lana too moved away from him, but still she could taste it in the back of her throat. Though it was less and less of a good idea, Lana wanted to stay longer, and so she lay back down and put her head on the pillow, laying on her side to face him. He was looking at her with what seemed like a blank face, showing almost no expression, but she knew that wasn't the case. It hadn't taken long for her to really notice the way he hid behind his hair, the way he intentionally let it fall over his eyes. They were his most emotive feature, and they gave him away every time. This morning his expression wasn't blank, not when she took the time to look past his hair to his eyes. He was wary of her, guarded, and eventually the reason why came out.

"If you weren't pregnant, would you b' here right now?"

It was a loaded question, one that required a considered answer. His question had two means, both equally important to him. Would she be here in Alexandria? Would she be here in his bed?

"Yes," she stated confidently. "I would be."

"Sure?"

"Yes," she repeated, looking him in the eye. "Even if I wasn't pregnant, I'd be here."

Still her answer didn't seem to be enough, his eyes still wary of her. Nevertheless he turned onto his side and then reached out, his hand hovering in mid air before tentatively touching the top of her elbow. For a moment there Lana froze, the touch of three fingertips making her skin feel as though it was on fire, but she didn't recoil. Instead she lay there watching him, waiting for him to say or do something else. Her heart was pounding in her throat, and no doubt he could hear the way her breathing had changed. What was he doing…what did he want?

"C'mere," he said lowly, moving towards her ever so slightly.

When she did as he asked she saw the way he changed, his eyes softening now that he saw she wasn't rejecting him. As though this was her first time she could feel herself shaking with nerves, a stark contrast to her cool and calm demeanour the first time she had seduced him into sex. Was that what he was doing now in return? Was this him coming onto her? If that was the case, this was possibly the first time he had ever initiated anything with her.

Her stomach was twisting in knots, and she could barely breathe. "Wait."

Immediately he froze, though his fingertips were barely skimming the front of her tee shirt. His former wariness had returned now, and he looked at her in trepidation. In an instant he had closed off from her, and so she quickly sought to clarify the problem.

"Would _you_ want this if I wasn't pregnant?"

Hers was a counter question to his, both of them trying to determine where the other stood, and to her relief he didn't need to think about his answer.

"Fuck yeah," he softly growled, his voice low and husky with desire.

Satisfied with his answer she took his hand and guided it to her body, telling him it was okay. She didn't wait now, and without hesitation she leant forward and brought her lips to his. Before this morning he'd never been one for kissing, the two of them often too rushed to get straight to the final act, but today he kissed her back with ardour. An embarrassing moan slipped from her throat, the taste of tobacco in his mouth soothing her craving while the kiss itself sent a rush through her body. Still she was trembling, because suddenly it felt intimate, and that was not something they'd shared before. But after spending the night in close proximity without so much as an accidental brush of the foot his touch felt all the more intense.

She felt his hand slipping between her legs, finding his way inside her underwear before he worked two fingers inside of her. Even as she allowed him to do this she wasn't quite sure what it all meant. She didn't know if he only wanted to fuck, if he wanted more than that, if he really did want her regardless of her pregnancy…but perhaps it was a good thing it remained unspoken for now. They had time to figure it all out, and they didn't need the pressure of trying to be something that hadn't developed of its own accord. That's what was happening now, they were letting things develop naturally.

Impatient now, Daryl groaned as he pushed himself up and onto his knees, reaching for her underwear and dragging it down her legs. A great sense of urgency came over them now, making them fumble a little. Becoming a clumsy mess of limbs she too tried to divest him of his sweatpants, mindful of the bandage around his hips and the cautious way with which he moved. Sitting up with him she tentatively put her hand on his penis, feeling like this was the first time she'd ever done it. A short nod of his head spurred her on, her eyes darting upward to take note of the way his lip curled upward in approval.

He was panting by the time he returned his hand between her legs, fumbling in his haste, and she quickly sought to keep him on track. Multitasking, she placed her hand atop his and made him slow down, making him pay attention to the way she extended his fingers and brought them to the right spot. Though she'd enjoyed sex with him he still on occasion required direction, as did she for that matter, and it paid off that they listen.

"Like this, huh?"

She nodded, releasing his hand and reaching instead for the buttons on his shirt. "Just gentle," she advised, her hand quaking as she opened his shirt.

Gaining access she let one hand aimlessly touch his chest, feeling the soft hair before moving up to his shoulder, to his neck. Feeling bold she reached up to his face, running her fingers through his hair before pushing it back off his face. It was a revelation, she'd never seen his face unhindered by the hair he preferred to hide behind, allowing her to really see him. His features bore the hallmarks of the life he had lived, his hooded eyes adorned with both smile and frown lines, skin weatherbeaten from years enjoying life on his motorcycle.

Despite her interest he shied away, not that she had expected any different. Jerking his head back from her hand he brought his lips back to hers, no doubt an effort to detract the attention from himself. Allowing him to do this she brought her hand back to his face yet again, fingers stroking his patchy facial hair while they kissed languidly. She could still taste tobacco in his mouth, and so long as he kept kissing her like that she would let him do whatever he wanted.

At his direction she laid down, coaxing him with her every inch of the way, but he quickly faltered. He flinched as he moved onto his knees, not that it seemed to stop him from trying to get what he wanted.

"You okay?" she asked, looking at the bandage.

He seemed intent on ignoring his injury, and her concern too. Not answering her question he was leaning over her, one hand still between her legs while the other grasped the bottom of her teeshirt and yanked upward. Understanding what he wanted she fumbled to take her shirt off, swearing when her elbow got caught and delayed her, but her real concern came from him, from the way he had stopped to stare down at her.

"What's this?"

Following his gaze she looked down at herself, at the shadow of a bruise just below her ribs. "The other day. Them," she said shortly.

His expression darkening Daryl made to turn away from her, muttering something unintelligible below his breath, but she quickly stopped him. Seizing a fistful of his shirt she gave it a pointed tug, refusing to let the Saviours be the reason they stopped now. She released him only when he looked back at her, and it was then she reached behind herself and fumbled with the clasp on her bra, wishing she had the foresight to wear something a little nicer than the practical choice she had made yesterday.

"We doing this or what?" she asked expectantly.

He stared down at her, his jaw flexed in righteous anger as he looked at the bruise on her abdomen, and then to the scars on her hip and leg from her motorcycle accident. But the moment she wrestled her bra off and tossed it aside his mind was back on track, and if he weren't so serious right now she would have laughed at him, at the way his attention could be so quickly diverted. Now he seemed to rush at her, kneeling between her legs before gingerly laying down atop her. Welcoming his touch with a long, gratuitous kiss, Lana hoped to avoid letting him see her bare back, knowing he wouldn't respond well to the bruises and scrapes from where the Saviours had wrestled her out of the car and down to the ground.

Before she could stop to appreciate the moment he was inside her, a strained breath escaping his throat, and she couldn't be sure if it was one of pleasure or pain. When he started moving he was doing his best to keep his weight off her, but already she could see the way he was trembling. Every move that should have felt good was tempered by a wince of pain, one he tried and failed to hide from her. Nevertheless he persevered as sweat broke out on his hairline, valiantly ignoring her words of concern.

"You want me to get on top?" she breathed as she lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, trying to minimise his movements.

"Nah, I'm 'kay," he grunted heavily.

Not believing him for a second, Lana was having none of it. Making herself clear she stopped moving, one hand pushing at his shoulder until he too stopped, looking down at her in wary confusion. Hovering above her his hair fell loosely about his face, compelling her to reach up and push it back just like she had before, letting the light fall across his features. When she whispered for him to get off her he did so without delay, though he seemed to finally admit defeat when he slumped down onto his side, panting to catch his breath.

"You're a dick head," she said affectionately, shuffling over to his nightstand and opening the top drawer. "You were stabbed, and you're still trying to get some."

"Better watch your mouth," he warned, his hands following her as she moved.

She could have used a little more warming up than she had, it usually took her a while anyway, and given the urgency they both felt she selected a well used bottle of KY and made good use of it. "Lay down," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I got this."

Conscious of not hurting him she took her time to settle herself on top of him, grateful for the headboard that provided something to hang onto. It took some adjustments, but when she sank down onto his length she was confident they got it right, that he wasn't going to hurt himself. His hands were firmly latched onto her ass, fingertips digging in just a little as he set a comfortable pace for them, controlling her movements to ensure she didn't jostle him too much. Her decision to take over had been the right one, that much was made clear by the way his lips parted and his features relaxed. The expression on his face was one she had only seen a few times, most notably the day they had fucked in the back of an abandoned car outside the walls. The thrill of being out in the open and visible to the dead had been exhilarating, though their decision to go ahead without a condom was coming back to bite them, not that it had been the only time they had risked it.

It was exhilarating being with him like this, and not just because of the sex. Blooming in the back of her mind was a sense of excitement. It had been days since she decided she was going to stay in Alexandria and keep the baby, days since she had quit smoking and started taking prenatal vitamins, but now that she had told Daryl she felt like it had come full circle. As if a physical wall had come down she began to feel tentatively excited, this feeling compounded by the way Daryl stared up at her, his hair no longer hiding his emotive eyes. For a few happy minutes there were no Saviours, no Biters in the world…just them in that moment, slowly starting to figure things out.

* * *

Every step Rick took brought with it a feeling of weariness, the kind of debilitation a man of thirty eight years old should not yet feel. He was heading home after a long morning of being on watch, of laying in wait on the side of the highway just waiting for something to happen. Though he needed to be at his best it had been difficult to keep his eyes open that morning. It was a cruel twist that he would lay his head down at night and find himself awake for hours, but when he had to be on alert he felt the ever growing need to close his eyes and rest.

It was no small wonder that he couldn't sleep at night, given the difficult situation he found himself faced with right now. Richard and Brea should have been here twenty four hours ago, and their absence was a dark cloud that loomed overhead. Though tardiness was often times out of ones control these days, being twenty four hours behind schedule set Rick on edge, making him nervous. He didn't know what to do about it. Should they risk travelling to the Kingdom to find out what was happening? Should he go to the Hilltop and take Dr Carson up on his offer to come to Alexandria, relieving the Hilltop of their only doctor?

For now Alexandria's consensus had been to hold tight, to wait a few more days. Anything could have come up, and both Richard and Jesus deserved the benefit of the doubt from them. He doubted they had both double crossed them, for they needed Rick as much as he had needed them. Besides, perhaps he ought to cut Richard some slack. It was indeed a tough sell for him to convince Brea to leave the Kingdom and risk journeying to Alexandria, a community that was now under the Saviour's attention. To Brea her first loyalty was to the Kingdom, to her people there of which there were many. Getting her to leave could be a tough sell…perhaps Richard just needed more time.

Despite having reached the most rational and logical conclusion, that Richard simply needed more time to convince Brea, it didn't make the wait any easier. Right now Carrie felt like a ticking time bomb, just like Lori used to…it was this comparison that kept him up at night. Both of wives had faced a difficulty with their pregnancy, a risk of which there was only so much he could do to address. For Lori, that risk had meant the end of her life…what would that risk mean for Carrie?

Trying not to think about the worst case scenario, Rick roughly wiped the soles of his boots before stepping inside his home, set on making only a quick stop. He had another task ahead of him, one that could take upwards of thirty minutes depending on how things went, and he had to find something to eat before departing. Rations were tight and he was famished, though it seemed like he wasn't the only one. To his pleasant surprise he entered the kitchen to find Daryl there, sitting up on the counter with a bowl of food in his lap. For a moment Rick simply looked at him, for it had been days since he had come downstairs for anything other than to use the bathroom. This certainly was a welcome change.

"Where's Carl?" Daryl asked, forgoing any kind of greeting.

"On south watch," he answered, slipping a piece of fruit into his satchel before turning to the refrigerator, his stomach clenching in hunger. "He could probably use some company," he suggested, hoping to encourage him out of the house.

Daryl shook his head. "You need to lay off him a bit," he warned in disapproval. "We've all been him."

"How so?"

"Come on…kid just wants to lay in bed and whack the weasel. Let him."

Coughing around the piece of roast potato he had just taken a bite from, he looked at Daryl in exasperation. "Thank you. I'd never visualised that until this moment."

"You know he does it."

"Knowing and visualising are very different. Thanks to you, I have both." Still hungry he selected a few items and set them onto the counter, throwing together a sandwich that would have to tide him over for the rest of the day. "Go on watch with him, you know he likes your company."

"You need me to give him the birds an' the bees talk, huh?"

Sensing that it was only a tease, Rick played along. "He's had that, and he doesn't need it from you. He's learnt enough from you already."

Daryl smirked, still looking into his bowl of food as they talked. "I could teach you both some things."

"And I could teach you to oil your bed frame." At this Daryl paused, and with great satisfaction Rick watched the way his jaw flexed. "Don't think I haven't noticed your good mood this morning, or the reason for it trying to sneak out the side door."

He huffed under his breath, trying to appear aloof and indifferent. "She says she's keepin' it."

Sensing the conversation taking a turn, Rick took care to match his tone. "I figured she might be," he said, not needing to clarify what Daryl was talking about. "I'm glad she's staying."

"Mmm. Same."

The conversation stalled a little, allowing Rick to tidy up before taking a bite of his sandwich, though overall it was less than appealing. Having moved a great deal of their food away from Alexandria to hide it from the Saviours, there was only so much he could do with sun-dried tomatoes and lettuce on a sandwich.

"You heard from Richard?" Daryl asked, setting his bowl into the counter beside him.

On the inside Rick groaned, having hoped that he wouldn't bring up this subject. "Not yet."

"How long we gonna be waiting for 'em?"

"It's under control."

There was a brief pause, but only brief. "We seen any more o' them pricks out there?"

"No."

"So why we sitting here with our thumbs up our ass?" Daryl questioned, itching to know what was going on, frustrated by his current limitations. "Lana said they'd be setting up a base around, somewhere near. We should be out looking for 'em."

"It's under control," Rick repeated, making sure to drive this home. "You want this?" he offered, gesturing to the other half of the sandwich.

"Taste like shit?"

"Yeah."

"Give it Carl."

Rick chuckled, putting it onto a small plate. "Good idea. You can take it to him," he said pointedly.

Slinging his satchel over his shoulder Rick made a quick departure, for although he was glad to see Daryl was in a good mood that morning, he had asked some difficult questions. Down at the gates was a small crowd, Mina and Mitchell going about the process of saying their goodbyes. Though Vetor had been a thorn and Lana tended not to socialise with many, Mina and Mitchell had at least tried to settle in to Alexandria and make some connections, which was perhaps what surprised Rick the most about their decision to leave. They didn't want to fight the Saviours, nor to be party to anything that might incite an overreaction on their part, and the news that Alexandria had been harbouring fugitives like Mina and Mitchell was sure to do that. Nevertheless Rick didn't hold their decision against them, understanding that sometimes people just had to do what was right for them, that he too could be selfish with his decisions. He doubted he would ever see them again, that they would ever turn up outside the gates asking for sanctuary, but he wouldn't rule it out just yet.

In no real rush, Rick joined Michonne who was seated on the hood of the truck they were taking out that day, waiting patiently while Mina and Mitchell said their goodbyes. Slowly the crowd of Alexandrian's began to disperse, and as they left Rick caught Carrie's eye. She was spending the day with Tara, helping her go about the difficult task of packing before moving in with Rosita and Eugene. She couldn't stand living there in the Infirmary without Denise, but hadn't been able to bring herself to start packing not only her own belongings, but Denise's too. They were heading off now to start, Judith walking hand in hand between them, thrilled to be hanging out with her Aunt Tara.

"You got anything to eat?" Michonne asked, her stomach giving an audible rumble.

Without hesitation he opened his satchel and passed her the apple he had taken from home. "Slim pickings at home?"

"Very slim," she confirmed, taking a large bite of the apple. "Maggie's milk supply drops if she's not eating enough."

This soon to be a problem of his own, Rick commiserated, grateful when she passed him the apple to take a bite. "We can't have that."

"She was talking about switching Herschel to formula to save on food for her, but Glenn talked her out of it pretty quick."

"Good," Rick muttered, passing the apple back. "It won't be like this forever. We can manage with what we've got."

"There's been some rumblings," Michonne added, lowering her voice. "About how much food we're giving to Vetor."

"Rumblings from who?"

"Oh, you know…" she answered, telling him she'd rather not give names.

Though he understood the disapproval, he was satisfied with the situation. "He's out of our hair, and he's leaving Lana alone," he stated. "If that takes a few cans of beans and dried soup, I'm okay with that. If we need more we can ask the Kingdom for help, they won't say no."

"Sure we can ask them for help…whenever we see them."

To this he made no reply, for by now there was nothing left to say on the subject. They were giving them a little more time, the benefit of the doubt. Though it was at the forefront of his mind for every minute of the last twenty four hours, Rick tried to focus his attention on what was happening right now, on getting Vetor the hell away from Alexandria as quickly as possible. They would have some gasoline and engine oil, food, medical supplies, water, a tent, sleeping bags, batteries, weapons and ammunition, though not too much of the latter. The van Vetor already had at the safe house could be slept in, allowing all three of them to rest should they need to. It was just enough to get them far away and settled someplace else, making Vetor no longer a thorn in Rick and Lana's sides.

He was proud of Lana, proud that she was sticking with her decision to stay in Alexandria even after the rest of her group did an about-face on their plans. She was doing what none of them thought likely, letting go of Vetor and moving on with her life. According to Daryl she planned on keeping the baby they had accidentally conceived, she had spent the night with him, and to Rick's surprise he felt rather curious about the whole thing. What had gone on up there? What was happening between them? If he knew Daryl at all the answers wouldn't come out until he had downed a few beers, and given the state of things now neither of them were about to relax and kick back with some drinks.

Lana had been the last one there saying her goodbyes to Mina and Mitchell, and though he was antsy to get on the road he hadn't rushed them. But they didn't seem intent on painfully drawing it out, and a few minutes later they looked to Rick and Michonne, indicating that they were ready to go. Tearful, Lana was wiping her cheeks as she backed away a few paces, preventing herself from saying one more thing, from taking one last hug. Instead she shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat, her lower lip trembling until she managed to pull herself together.

Without delay they filed into the vehicles, Michonne jumping into the rear and settling amongst the array of belongings and supplies, while Mitchell, Mina and Rick sat up front, Rick taking the driver's seat as usual. Allowing Lana to open the gate for them he took it slow as they passed through, allowing the three of them one last opportunity to wave goodbye to one another. Only going slow he took a moment to glance at the newest Walkers on their spikes, the dead Saviours that had attacked them last week. Though it had been quite the effort to capture them and then safely wrangle them into position, for who knew it was such strenuous work to impale a fresh corpse onto a spike, it was most satisfying to see them there guarding the place.

Lingering only to ensure the gate closed behind them, Rick set off down the road towards the safe house that Vetor had been occupying for the last week and a half. They travelled in silence, and though his animosity had never been directed to Mina and Mitchell he was glad that their journey was a mere ten minutes. Everyone knew what he thought of Vetor, that he couldn't wait to get him the hell away from Alexandria, and that didn't exactly make for good conversation with those loyal to him in spite of everything.

Just as they had been when he and Michonne were out there that morning, the roads were clear and without anything of interest. They arrived at their destination safely, the tyres kicking up dust as they arrived at the very safe house to which his people had fled the day Alexandria was attacked by the Wolves, the day the quarry herd turned around and passed through their community. Not to his surprise Vetor was sitting on the front porch waiting expectantly, his bags packed and the van ready to be loaded up. Rick was pleased to see that he was ready to get on the road without delay, that he wouldn't be lingering longer than necessary.

Stepping out of the truck he allowed Mina and Mitchell to go forward, leaving it to them to explain to Vetor that Lana wasn't coming. Instead he went around to the back where Michonne was waiting for him, and with her help he quickly unloaded the supplies from the back of the truck, setting everything out and onto the ground for them to do with as they pleased. As they worked he watched from the corner of his eye as Vetor slowly approached, looking most unhappy with the situation.

"I thank you for your hospitality," Vetor began smoothly, extending his hand to him.

Taking it only in the spirit of getting this over with, Rick took his hand and shook it. "Any trouble out here?"

Vetor shook his head. "Just me and the woods," he answered. "Everything inside is as I found it. I will replenish the food supplies I have used."

"No need," Rick said bluntly, taking the last tub that Michonne passed him. He set it onto the ground with the others and then turned back to Vetor, wanting to make himself clear. "You'll want to be getting on the road soon."

For a moment Vetor simply looked at him, apparently bracing himself before broaching the subject they all knew was coming. "I would like to see Lana one last time," he requested, gesturing to the truck. "I n-"

"No."

"I need to be sure she's making the right decision," he continued, not at all perturbed. "Lana thinks with her heart too many times, and not enough with her head."

"She knows what she's doing," Michonne stated, climbing down from the truck and standing at Rick's side. "She's starting her life over."

"Staring life over with _him_?" he questioned skeptically. "She's led with her heart, not with her head. It is not the right decision for her, or for you."

"How's that?" Rick questioned.

Vetor looked at him in exasperation. "The Saviours will find you, and they will punish you for her. Every day she plays her fantasy she is dangerous to you."

"It's a risk we've accepted."

"A risk you know nothing of," he warned darkly. "You don't know what you're doing."

"We do," Rick stated bluntly, staring Vetor down. "And so does she. She's had enough of your shit."

Silence fell now, Vetor taking a heavy breath as he looked away, looking to Mina and Mitchell as if they would help him. But they gave him nothing, most likely agreeing that it was in Lana's best interests she never see him again. For a long moment Vetor looked down at the ground, slowly coming to terms with her decision, one he apparently hadn't seen coming.

"I respectfully ask that I be allowed to say goodbye to her," Vetor began, taking a deep breath as he looked up at Rick again. "I at least deserve that."

Having anticipated this request, Rick's answer was on the tip of his tongue. "If she wanted to say goodbye to you, she'd be here."

"But-"

"You're not welcome in Alexandria," he stated, slowly taking a step forward. He held Vetor's gaze, willing him to hear this, to understand. "You're not welcome by me, or by her."

At this explicit rejection the tension grew, Vetor's eyes narrowing as his hands clenched into fists by his side. He seemed fully intent on staring Rick down, on continuing the debate and trying to force his hand, to force his way back into Lana's life as quickly as she was trying to flee him, but Rick didn't allow it. Having made his point clear he stepped away and turned his attention to Mina and Mitchell instead, shaking their hands and wishing them luck.

"I understand why you're leaving," he murmured to them both, keeping his voice low. "But if you ever change your mind, you know where we are."

"Thank you," Mitchell replied, his gratitude sounding genuine. "Really…thank you."

"Look after Lana," Mina requested, her youthful face taut with emotion. "She can be a bitch, but she means well."

"We will," he assured her. "And, I know."

Leaving things at that he and Michonne returned to the truck and got in, wanting to get home quickly. As he started the engine he lowered the window and looked at Vetor, who was still standing in the same spot he had left him. His eyes were still dark with anger, furious that Rick wasn't allowing him the opportunity to change Lana's mind. It wouldn't surprise him if he ignored all warnings and attempted to make contact with Lana, if he attempted to come back to Alexandria anyway. Regardless of the method or his intentions, Rick wouldn't allow that to happen, even if it meant taking drastic measures. Until now the only reason he had refrained from putting a bullet in his head was for Lana, to allow her the process of leaving him rather than taking him away from her. Now though, he felt less generous with his restraint.

"Good luck out there," he said shortly.

What seemed like a bitter laugh escaped Vetor's mouth, and he folded his arms across his chest as he continued staring Rick down. "And good luck to him."

Not validating that with a response, Rick raised the window and then departed, sparing one last glance at Mitchell and Mina before leaving them behind. As quickly as they had arrived they were departing again, and though there was indeed the anticipated sense of relief, he couldn't help but ponder Vetor's parting words.

 _And good luck to him._

Who was he wishing luck to? Daryl, or Negan?

* * *

A/N - I hope you enjoyed, please do leave a review!

One week until season 8 resumes!


	39. Chapter 39

Tuesday February 24

In a rarity for recent times, Rick had actually been home to sleep for more than a few hours. After days of spending entire nights on watch moving from post to post he had taken a night off, much to Carrie's relief. He was exhausted, the stress of what happened to them out on the road having compounded on him more and more. But last night he had been home, had slept the entire night in the bed beside her, not once getting up to do rounds or check on the watch posts. It was nice to have him there beside her, to not be completely alone as she lay awake all night, unable to sleep.

Days later Carrie still could not comprehend what had happened, what the community was going through right now. The notion that Denise was dead didn't feel like it had sunk in, even though they'd held a funeral and buried her last week…it seemed ridiculous, that it was all some cruel trick. She learned of Denise's death when Rick had unexpectedly come home just as dawn broke, Carrie having not expected him back from the Kingdom for days. It was then he told her what happened to them, that Dwight and his men had been lying in wait for them. He had made the demands that Richard and Jesus had warned them to prepare for, that they submit to their authority and take him back to Alexandria…it was a miracle that they managed to overpower them and send them running for their lives, but none of them were naive. The Saviours would not be gone forever.

Since that day Alexandria had been fraught with tension, even more so than before. Gone was any sense of peace, for although they had known for some time that a fight was on the horizon, that day had brought the fight right to them. Their people had been attacked barely thirty minutes from home, telling them that the Saviours must know where they were. At the very least they had made an excellent judgement, they had attacked them on a road they travelled frequently and were there at precisely the right time.

It was no wonder that Rick could barely sleep, that he was constantly on edge. By now Brea should have been here, both Richard and Jesus having assured them that they would make it happen. Though Carrie knew the former arrangement that Brea would come to Alexandria had become strained, that Rick had played a heavy hand in withholding their information about the Saviours, but surely Richard hadn't gone back on his word? It seemed out of character that he would play hardball against Rick, that Jesus would too. But their stark absence seemed to indicate exactly that…it was a risky move on their behalf, particularly given all the information Rick had. There was a lot at stake for them to risk pissing off Alexandria's leader.

Now at thirty seven weeks Carrie was considered full term, at least according to Denise. She had three weeks left until her due date, maybe four if she went over…that didn't feel like a great deal of time given their current situation. While the implications of everything that could go wrong started hitting home Carrie looked down at her belly, frustrated by how uncomfortable and large she felt. Just when she started to think she couldn't get any bigger it felt like she did, her growing belly leaving her short of breath and struggling to get up from the couch. There were full stretch marks now, thin silvery lines running across the sides of her belly interspersed with the occasional red line too. But worse than that was the feeling that her baby was now just a ticking time bomb…if it didn't turn in time…if she didn't have a doctor with her for the birth…

Trying not to get caught in the never ending trap of _what if_ , Carrie dragged herself from her pillow fort and waddled into the bathroom for the third time that morning, dreading the inevitable moment when she had to haul herself up from the toilet. Giving serious consideration to the idea of forgoing pants that day she brushed her teeth and then washed her face, though made no effort to actually face the day. She felt exhausted, both physically and mentally, and couldn't quite bear the thought of facing the world just yet. Instead she made her way back into the bedroom and rearranged her pillows, slowly sinking down into them and getting comfortable. As she adjusted them to her liking Rick rolled over, though she could tell by the way his eyes were not slowly blinking that he had been awake for some time.

"Mornin'."

"Good morning," she replied, reaching out to him. She settled her hand on his cheek, stroking the short beard that had grown since his last effort to shave two weeks ago. From there she reached her hand into his hair and dragged her fingernails over his scalp, a motion that made him close his eyes.

"That's nice."

Glad he was enjoying it she shuffled herself a little closer and kept going, glad when he too reached out for her. But instead of reaching for her scalp he slipped his hand under her shirt, settling it onto the side of her belly where he could feel the baby. It was still right now, but no doubt he could feel the distinct lump from the way it was laying against the outside of her belly.

"Head down yet?"

She shook her head, knowing that wasn't the answer either of them wanted. Presently the baby's head was lodged firmly under the her rib cage, and she suspected that was what left her so short of breath these days. Taking her hand from his hair she readjusted the way she lay and then moved his hand, bringing it down and to her left. There he could feel another distinct lump, one that receded before reappearing a few inches over.

"Foot?"

"Feet," she corrected, and as she spoke she felt the baby move, responding to the gentle pressure applied by his hand. She quickly pushed back the blankets while he lifted her shirt higher up, and together they lay and watched as her belly moved.

"I'll never get sick of that," he murmured, placing his hand back on her belly when the movement stopped. It started up again a moment later, Carrie almost able to visualise every motion the baby was making inside of her.

"Will you be home much today?"

"I'm heading out soon," he answered. "Just some rounds, that's all."

She knew what that meant, and he wasn't doing his usual rounds of the walls. He would be outside them, sticking close to home but keeping a watch over the roads, wanting to have advance warning if something came up, if they saw anyone out there.

"Will you be gone all day?"

At this he paused, and that in itself was her answer. "Do you need me for something?"

"No," she answered, trying not to be selfish. But that lasted only a moment, because was it really selfish to want her husband to be with his family right now? "I was just thinking we could spend some time together, us and the kids. It's been a while."

Agreeing with that, Rick slowly nodded. "I'll try to come back in the afternoon."

"Thank you," she said gratefully, though she was conscious that he only said he'd try. She wouldn't hold it against him if he couldn't come back…she understood, even if she didn't like it. "Maybe we could talk about names again?"

"Oh, you want to open that can of worms?" he joked, his eyes lighting up for the first time in weeks. "I thought we agreed to give that a rest for the sake of our marriage."

"It's gotta be opened some time."

"Alright," he agreed, running his hand over her belly. He stopped at the top and used his thumb to rub the bulge that was her naval, his fingers tracing the dark line down her front. "Have I mentioned Calvin before?"

"I don't think so," she answered, considering the name. "Calvin's nice."

"It can go on the list?"

"Sure."

She wracked her brains for the new names she had in mind, but to her annoyance they were suddenly evading her. "What about…" she began, steeling herself before saying the name. "Georgia."

At this Rick paused, going very still before raising his head and looking at her. "Georgia?" he questioned skeptically. "I recall you had some strong feelings about that name."

Not knowing what to say, Carrie shrugged. "I guess it's grown on me," she explained, unable really fathom how that name had gone from haunting her to sounding like a nice choice. Like he had said, she once used that name to protect herself, to give her strength. "Besides, we did meet in Georgia."

"We can put Georgia on the list if you like."

"I still like Ally," she reminded him. "Short for Alexandria, that's still my top pick for a girl. Do you still like Asher?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

"You seemed set on it at Christmas."

"Sure, it's nice. Come on now," he said as he sat up and threw the blankets back. "We gotta leave some debate for this afternoon."

"Where are you going?"

"Shower."

"All by yourself?"

At this he slowed to a stop, and she could see the interest in his eyes when he turned around to look at her. "Is this you offering your company, Mrs Grimes?"

Giving a dramatic sigh she pushed herself up, trying not to look like a turtle stuck on it's back. "If you insist, Mr Grimes."

When she met him at the threshold they lingered, taking a moment to look at one another with fondness. Though it had only been a few minutes she had missed mornings like this, times when they could lay about in bed together, talking and laughing. She hadn't been exaggerating earlier when she said that it had been a while since they spent much time together, particularly given their long separation while he was at the Kingdom, and then all the drama that was starting with the Saviours.

"I miss you," she said quietly, holding his gaze as she confessed this. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad…it's just the truth."

He nodded slowly, being sensitive to what she had told him. "I miss you too," he replied, lifting his hand and brushing her hair behind her ear. He came closer now and kissed her cheek, allowing his lips to linger there a few moments. "It's going to be like this a little longer. It has to be."

"I know."

"Even after the baby's here, it might still be like this."

To this Carrie said nothing. She had known this all along, had understood that a war with the Saviours was not going to stop just because she had a baby. There was no paternity leave from a war…if Rick was needed elsewhere he would have to go, and that's the way it had to be.

"Does that scare you?" he asked next, his hand resting on her upper arm. "Me not being around as much as we planned?"

"Does what scare me?" she asked, trying not to sound sarcastic. "Having this baby without you here? Raising this baby without you? That scares the hell out of me."

Sharing her same concerns, Rick didn't try to offer false comfort or assurances that he would be there, that everything would work out. They both knew that they had limited control over what happened in the next few weeks and months.

"Carrie, if I can't be there for whatever part, you won't be alone. You'll have other people with you, I promise."

To her annoyance she felt tears welling up in her eyes, not an unusual occurrence these days, but today the emotion behind them was raw, something more painful and real than eating the last cupcake. Though she had tried to hide it from Rick lest she burden him even more, she was terrified of what the coming weeks were going to bring. Despite her best efforts the baby was still breech, and she faced the prospect of giving birth almost completely unassisted, meanwhile Saviours were closing in on their home every waking minute. For weeks now she couldn't get this one image out of her head, that of her feeling Alexandria on foot, trying to carry a newborn in one arm and Judith in the other. In her mind's eye she never made it far, ultimately forced to stop and rest, to put one of her children down…and that's when the Walkers came.

He kissed her on the cheek and then ushered her into the bathroom, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to avoid the conversation as a whole. Despite all that had happened with Denise's death and the non-arrival of Richard and Brea they had hardly spoken about it, only ever skirting around the conversation, discussing only the bare minimum. In a way it wasn't necessary to talk about it at length, they both knew what it all meant, they were both worried about the same things, but still she wished they could talk it through. Perhaps that was just their differences showing through. She preferred to think aloud and talk things through whereas Rick internalised, processing things in the privacy of his own head.

While he turned on their dual showers to get the hot water flowing, Carrie divested herself of the garish pink pyjamas the kids had given her for her birthday, fully aware that Rick was using the bathroom mirror to steal glimpses at her. Not minding, for she did the same thing to him when he undressed, she stepped under the water with a content sigh. The temperature was tepid, but it grew to a perfect heat that relieved her aching back, trickles of water slipping over her shoulders to soothe her breasts.

"You sleep okay last night?" she enquired, noticing the way he stood under the shower, the water pounding his face.

"Yeah," he muttered, turning his face and then blinking the water out of his eyes.

"I, uhh…" she began, unsure if she wanted to bring this up or not. Couldn't they just have a nice morning together? "I heard what you're planning tonight. That you're going to the Hilltop."

"Yes."

"Why tonight?" she asked. "Why not today?"

"It's safer to drive at night, and Rosita only took the drain out of Daryl's side yesterday. He needs a little more time to rest."

She looked around in concern. "You're not taking him with you?"

"I have to. If I tell him no, it will only make him more determined."

"I don't think that's a good idea. He was stabbed barely a week ago."

"And if I don't take him, he'll do something stupid," he argued, sounding terse. "He's like Carl. I have to keep him close so that I know what he's doing."

Tactfully she changed the subject a little. "Are you going to ask Doctor Carson to come back with you?"

He paused, shrugging for a moment. "Maybe. We just need to find out what's going on."

"Clearly they've changed their mind," she commented, skipping the shampoo today and going straight for the conditioner. "Brea didn't want to come, she said that."

"Richard agreed to bring her."

"Because you threatened to pull out," she commented, though not disapprovingly. "Because he knows you're withholding information. I think he's playing hardball now, just like you were."

"Maybe."

"Well, I was thinking…maybe we should just do what they asked us to."

It was this that got his attention, and he looked around at her with skepticism. "Which is?"

"Bring me to the Kingdom." When he looked away without so much as a comment she knew he wasn't onboard with that. "It's what they wanted."

"Then why isn't he here telling me that?"

"Because he doesn't want to travel. That's the whole point of him playing hardball."

"And what if something's happened to them?" he asked, sounding frustrated with her now. "Richard and Jesus both gave me their word that they would be here two days ago. That's why I'm going to the Hilltop tomorrow, I need to know what's going on."

"I'm just saying, maybe we should just swallow our pride and take me there."

At this he stopped, looking at her incredulously. "You this is about my pride?" he questioned, sounding genuinely upset with her. "You think I would risk you and our baby for my pride?"

"No, that's not what I meant." She paused a moment, knowing it was in both their best interests not to continue the conversation, but she had to get this all off her chest. "Lana said the Saviours wouldn't hurt me," she quickly explained, wanting him to understand her perspective. "She said they take care of pregnant women."

The look he gave her was unlike any she'd received from him before, and it wasn't necessary for him to verbalise his strong refusal. Wanting to be done with it all he turned off his shower, pushing his damp tendrils of hair off his face before stepping out and reaching for his towel. His patience was short today, his spirit depleted thanks to the worries that weighed him down, and Carrie hated how things were right now.

"Wait," she said quickly, catching him before he reached his towel. "Don't go."

For a moment he stood there is his back turned to her, dripping water all over the bathroom floor, but she didn't concern herself with that. Instead she looked him up and down as he looked over his shoulder, turning around only when he saw that she was giving up on the conversation, that she was done. At her request he came back in and joined her on her side of the shower, and she wasted no time in getting him warm again. Already his skin had become cool to the touch, imploring her to set about warming him up again. Taking his preferred soap she lathered her hands before setting them on the front of his shoulders, fingertips resting on the scar Morgan had left him with.

"Did you wash everywhere?"

His voice rumbled inside his throat when he answered, compelling her to slide her hands over his neck. "Might've missed a few spots."

"A few spots, where?"

"I'm sure you'll find them," he murmured, following her suit. Selecting her jasmine scented body wash he poured a generous amount onto his palm, not worried about conserving it the way they normally would.

When he began to rub her hips she was grateful for the touch of his hands on her body, for she would never tire of feeling his hands on her skin. Besides, intimacy deeper than a kiss or the brush of his hand as he said goodbye had been lacking of late, not that she didn't understand. For the last week neither of them had been in the mood for sex. There was too much going on, too much for them to worry about, but this morning she was willing to make the effort to get both of them in the mood. Resting her head on his shoulder she moved her hands down his back and to his ass, and though she gave it an appreciative rub she stopped shy of pinching him, knowing full well that he would be waiting for it in anticipation. He was spreading soap across her belly now, massaging it and feeling the way the baby responded. Soon enough he was kissing her neck, one hand reaching higher to her breast while the reached back and found hers. Though he was never forceful he didn't shy from telling her what he wanted, and this morning was no different. He brought her hand between them and placed it on his penis, affording her a kiss of gratitude when she started to stroke him gently at first, and then with a little more ardour.

"Do you know what today is?" she asked softly.

"Tuesday."

"No, smart ass. It's our anniversary…sort of."

"Anniversary of what?"

"Exactly one year since you picked me up off the side of the road, covered in Walker guts."

"Oh," he murmured, his hands stopping for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. One year, to the day. It feels like we've been together a lot longer."

"It does. Just look at us now…it's been downhill ever since."

She chuckled, appreciating his light hearted joke. He moved both of his hands to the top of her hips now, his fingertips pressing down as he began to massage her, and she couldn't help the moan that slid from her throat. He knew how badly her lower back had been aching lately…this man was a saint sometimes. They kissed languidly, enjoying the simple intimacy that only made her crave more. Eager for him she tried pulling him closer, frustrated by the way her belly prevented her from pulling right against her. She missed the way they used to fool around in the shower, how he'd press her up against the wall and hold her there as he entered her. Nevertheless they had adapted, and today Rick seemed perfectly attentive to what she was seeking. His hands moved freely over her body, thumbs stroking her lower back and eliciting a moan stifled by his lips.

The kiss came to an end, Rick's teeth pressed around her lower lip before moving onward to her neck, pulling her hair aside as he laved his tongue over her skin. "If they've changed their mind," he began, his cheek pressed against her neck so that he didn't have to look her in the eye. "We'll take you to the Kingdom."

A small weight eased from her shoulders at these words, grateful that he would at least consider the notion that they might have to be the ones who caved first. But even this wasn't quiet enough to ease her worries, for there still was a waiting game to be played. His journey to the Hilltop wasn't until tonight…it could be days before a course of action was decided, and longer still before they acted upon it.

"I love you," she murmured, words that passed as _thank you_ these days.

While he returned the words of affection she gave him a gentle nudge to step back from her, kissing him as she ushered him back under the water to warm his skin, and then against the wall. She could feel him smiling against her lips, knowing or at least suspecting what she was going to do, but she took her time to drag it out. It felt wonderful to have him there with her that morning, and already they had spent more time together than they had in days…she didn't care if he had places to be right now, she would keep him here a little longer.

"You might have to help me back up," she warned him, trying her best to look sexy as she lowered herself down to her knees.

"Whatever you need."

His head was laying back against the tiled walls, but when she took him into her mouth she felt him take a deep breath, his head lolling forward to watch instead. He threaded his fingers through her hair and took a loose handful of it, hips jutting forward and asking for more, encouraging her. It was these motions that told her just how badly he craved this, she could tell by the way air left his lungs in heavy bursts, the soft words of praise he gave. As he got close to finishing he tried to stop her, but she ignored him and upped her game instead, and after that he didn't bother trying to stop her again. When he came she felt his hand in her hair tighten to a fist, breath hissing through his clenched teeth as he tried to stay quiet…they had learned the embarrassing way that their bathroom echoed.

"You're the best," he praised, his face bearing that ridiculously relaxed expression when he helped her back to her feet. "How will I ever find a way to thank you?"

Making herself perfectly clear she passed him her bottle of shower gel and then turned away, bracing herself against the wall. "My back is pretty sore. Maybe you can start at the shoulders and work your way down."

"Down, huh," he murmured, smoothing some soap across her shoulder blades and beginning to rub. Kissing the back of her neck he murmured, "How far down?"

She jutted her hips backwards, intentionally pressing herself against him. "All the way, Mr Grimes."

* * *

Downstairs the kitchen was a mess, Carl's usual trail of destruction from cooking breakfast left in his wake, but Carrie found that she didn't mind. He was out of bed at a reasonable hour and had made his sister breakfast, so Carrie didn't mind her kitchen turning into a battleground of congealed oatmeal and spilled juice. Unbothered by it, she simply cleared a space by swiping her arm across the counter and pushing dishes and utensils into the sink, a problem she would deal with later. Judith was fed, dressed and playing, meaning her major task of the morning was completed for her…today really had gotten off to a great start.

Ravenous, she quickly set about preparing her own breakfast, and feeling rather charitable right now she made a little something for Rick too. He had after all earned himself a decent breakfast, his efforts during their long shower still making her giddy. Like always their breakfast was a mishmash of whatever could be prepared, some fruit cut up to go with the oatmeal, while she scrambled the egg the had left over from last week's rations. Oatmeal and eggs were an odd combination, but these days they couldn't afford to be picky, even when they were doing well with their harvest.

While she juggled oatmeal in one pot and the scrambled eggs in the other, Carrie looked around to ensure that Carl wasn't looking, and then she opened the refrigerator. She had craved this all night long but just couldn't bear the thought of getting out of bed to fetch it for herself, and her heart raced in excitement as she dipped a slice of apple into a pot of gravy. Looking at it in curiosity she tried to figure out where she got the idea for this combination, but without hesitation she slipped it into her mouth and closed the refrigerator door.

She was a God damn genius…apple and gravy was delicious together. Why hadn't that caught on yet?

"You want some breakfast?" she called out, hearing footsteps on the stairs that could only belong to Daryl.

When he appeared in the living room she felt a flicker of worry, his demeanour taking her by surprise. Though he maintained a stiff upper lip facade, those closest to him could tell that Daryl hadn't coped well with what happened out on the road, that Denise's death had hit him particularly hard. In the days that followed he had been confined to his bedroom on strict bedrest, and he quickly became withdrawn and short tempered, even with her. But things seemed to have changed since yesterday, Lana's decision to keep the baby and stay in Alexandria offering him a little hope for the future. A change had come over him, her visit and overnight stay leaving him in a better mood overall…but as quickly as it had come his good mood appeared to have vanished.

"Daryl? Do you want some breakfast?"

"No," he answered shortly, heading straight for the front closest where he pulled on his coat and leather vest. From the living room Judith was calling out to him, clambering to her feet as she rushed to show him something.

"Where are you going?" she asked in concern, hastily taking the pots off the burners. Rosita had only removed the surgical drain from his wound the previous night, he was supposed to still be on bed rest. "Daryl?"

"Out."

His curt reply startled her, for even when he was in a bad temper about something he never spoke to her like that, he was never cold. While she came into the living room she watched as he took his crossbow from inside the closet and slung it over his shoulder, arming himself with a handgun as well. Behind him Judith was calling his name, pestering him for his attention while holding up her toy motorcycle, but he ignored her. That too was most unlike him, for he always had a kind word for Judith, always sparing her a moment of his time.

"You're supposed to be resting. Daryl."

He left without another word, impatiently ushering Judith back inside when she tried to follow him out the door. When he closed the door on her Judith stood there in disappointment, her lower lip starting to wobble as she watched him go. She too watching him go, Carrie stood at the front door and watched as he made his way up the street without looking back, but when he was out of her sight she had to let it go. She couldn't go chasing him around Alexandria asking if he was okay, that would only annoy him even more. Clearly he was working through things in his own way, maybe what he needed was some space and a change of scenery. Although the shifts were long and monotonous, it wasn't unusual to feel mentally refreshed after spending a few hours alone with just your thoughts. Perhaps that was where he was going, to take watch for a while.

"Show Carl your motorcycle," she encouraged Judith, who by now was crying and pressing the toy up against the glass. "Show Carl."

In the living room Carl was sitting up on the couch, looking around at her in surprise. "What was that about?"

"I don't know," she frowned, having hoped he might have some insight. "He didn't say anything to you earlier?"

Carl shook his head. "No. He seemed totally cool yesterday, he took watch with me."

The timing less than ideal, Rick made his way into the living room, his damp curls framing his face until he brushed them back with his hands. "What is it?" he asked, gauging the room.

"Daryl," she sighed, returning to the stove and hastily serving the breakfast she had made. "He just shot out of here with barely a word."

At this Rick seemed unconcerned, his attention more focused what she was serving up. "Leave him alone. Let him work things out himself."

As though it was any other day they sat down together and ate their breakfast, Rick looking and smiling as Judith brought over various toys to show him, chattering away at him. For twenty happy minutes they were like any other family, simply enjoying an unhurried morning as they ate breakfast together. Even after she had finished eating Carrie stayed there at the table, simply wanting to spend every minute possible with her family. With her bare foot she was stroking the back of Rick's leg, and he was trying to hide the smile that crept across his face. With that not happening nearly often enough she kept it up, though she had no luck at getting him to stay, even when she reached across and put her hand on his thigh.

"We should go back upstairs," she suggested in a whisper. "You can do that thing you like."

"Oh yeah?" he asked in interest, leaning close and pressing his lips to her cheek. "Save it for tonight."

"You're going to the Hilltop tonight."

He sighed, disappointed that she had broken the spell. "Don't ruin fantasy with reality."

"It doesn't have to be fantasy," she teased, reaching her hand higher up his thigh.

He pulled away now, though he was looking at her with great interest. Nevertheless he seemed to restrain himself, choosing his responsibilities instead. "Carl, put some shoes and a coat on," he instructed as he got up from the table.

At this Carl sighed, sounding put out. "I'm inside, Dad. It's not cold."

"If you don't want to come out today, then fine," he countered, clearing their plates and taking them into the kitchen.

This got Carl's attention, and he lowered his comic book as he eagerly sat up. "I'm going out with you today?"

"If you want to."

In an instant Carl leapt to his feet and was heading for his bedroom, doing as he was told in anticipation of going outside the walls to take watch with his father. As he left Carrie held back her feelings of disapproval, for she would much prefer Rick didn't involve him in anything to do with the Saviours, but she said nothing. There had always been the unspoken agreement that although they were equal parents of Judith, it wasn't the same for Carl. She has never minded that, for her relationship with him worked well when it needed to, but she didn't necessarily approve of the calls Rick made. Instead of starting another disagreement she turned her gaze to Judith who was now happily sitting in her father's place at the dining table, looking for something else to eat.

"Leave the kitchen," she said generously, knowing he really had to go now. "I'll tidy up later."

"I'll just clear a couple of things away," he insisted, stacking the dishwasher before putting away the oatmeal.

He didn't get much further though, for soon he was interrupted by a polite knock at the door. Drying his hands on a dish towel he made his way over, and the moment he opened the door to Tobin on the other side she felt the atmosphere change. The comfortable silence was suddenly fraught with tension, making Carrie lean to her left and watch as Tobin came inside and wordlessly handed Rick a piece of paper. With bated breath she watched and waited, wondering what the problem was. What kind of news was delivered on a piece of paper these days?

Without a word Rick slipped the paper into his pocket and then opened the front closet, taking out his brown jacket and Colt from inside. He glanced at her over his shoulder, sparing her a brief instruction before following Tobin outside. "Everything's okay. I'll be back soon."

Not believing him even for a moment, Carrie didn't even wait for him to close the door before she was rushing to her feet to go after him. Something was wrong, that much was clear, and it didn't matter that he didn't want her to worry, she wasn't going to sit back in ignorance and wait to be looped in. Whatever was going on she needed to know, even if there was nothing she could do. Without delay she hauled Judith up onto her hip and then departed, cringing when she remembered she was barefoot in the February weather, but she didn't care. Rick and Tobin had taken off up the street at a great speed, talking heatedly between themselves.

Doing her best to catch up with them, Carrie clutched one hand around the girth of her belly while struggling to keep Judith safely on her hip. She was shivering from the cold as was Judith, the little girl looking at her in disdain as though she never fought tooth and nail to avoid wearing her coat. Apologising to her Carrie walked even faster, and when she turned the corner at the top of the street she was surprised to find that Abraham had left his post on watch, he and Sasha waiting down by the gates for the others to join them. Other people were out too, most notably Lana who stood afar with her arms folded across her chest, restlessly pacing back and forth.

"Rick," she called out as she caught up to them, ignoring the look he gave her when he turned around. "Rick, what's going on?"

Still walking side by side with Tobin, he seemed reluctant to tell her. "Carol's gone," he answered, hastily turning back to Tobin. "What time did she leave?" he asked urgently. "Do you know what she took?"

"Some time during the night," Tobin answered, his voice low with defeat. "I never heard her go, but she made a bunch of food. She took a pack, one of my coats."

"Did she leave on foot?"

"I don't know."

"Rick, wait," she insisted, grabbing him by his sleeve as they reached the gates. "What do you mean she's gone? Where did she go?"

He looked at her apologetically, his expression only making the whole thing worse. "I don't know."

Carrie gaped at him in disbelief, and then he reached into his pocket and passed her the note, and her heart sank when she saw Carol's handwriting. While Sasha and Abraham started filling him in Carrie began to read, her eyes skimming over the neat handwriting as quickly as she could.

 _I wish it didn't have to end, not this way. It was never my intention to hurt you, but it's how it has to be. We have so much here - people, food, medicine, walls, everything we need to live. But what we have other people want, too - and that will never change. If we survive this threat and it's not over, another one will be back to take its place, to take what we have. I love you all here. I do. And I'd have to kill for you. And I can't. I won't. Rick sent me away and I wasn't ever going to come back, but everything happened and I wound up staying. But I can't anymore. I can't love anyone because I can't kill for anyone. So I'm going, like I always should have. Don't come after me, please._

In the background she could hear the conversation going on, catching snippets of information about Daryl's sudden departure, that Glenn Michonne and Rosita had gone after him. But she could barely comprehend the implications of that, still struggling to wrap her head around what she had just read. It made no sense…why had Carol left?

"W-when did you send her away?" she demanded as she looked up at Rick, not caring that she sounded accusatory. "Rick, when did you send her away?"

"A long time ago," he said shortly, already making his way towards one of the cars they kept by the gate.

"But I don't understand," she continued, following him just as Carl rushed to join them, wondering what all the fuss was about. " _I can't love anyone because I can't kill for anyone_ ," she quoted from the letter. "What does that mean?"

Ushering Carl into the back of the car while Tobin took the driver's seat, Rick turned to her and looked her in the eye, silencing her questions with the touch of his hand to her arm. "I don't know what she means," he apologised, holding her gaze. "I'm going to find her, alright?"

Still stunned and in disbelief, Carrie hoisted Judith further up her hip as she looked back at the letter, still trying to make sense of it. Without another word Rick pressed his lips to her cheek and then did the same to Judith, and just as quickly he was in the passenger seat and the engine was starting. Carrie didn't try holding back the flood of emotion that came over her, allowing a sob to escape her lips as she felt tears welling up in her eyes. What the hell was going on? Carol…when was she coming back?

"No one else leaves," Rick instructed through the car's open window. "Everyone stays ready for a fight."

Scrunching the note into her fist she raised her head and watched as they departed Alexandria, Abraham rushing in behind them to close the gates before the Walkers outside got any ideas. In sheer disbelief Carrie looked down at the letter, trying to understand why Carol would write those things, why she would leave.

"Did you see her?" she asked Sasha. "Did she say anything to you?"

Sasha shook her head sadly. "She left during the night, probably during shift change. She doesn't want us to find her."

At this Carrie held her tongue, not unleashing the tirade on the tip of her tongue. She cared little for what Carol did or didn't want, she didn't get to make this type of decision without them, she didn't get to just up and leave her family without so much as a goodbye. Things had been so much better for her lately, she seemed to be coming around…was that all just a precursor? Was that her saying goodbye? Had they all missed the signs?

"Is that where Daryl's gone?" she asked, having overheard that he had left Alexandria without warning, that others had gone after him. "He went looking for her?"

Again Sasha shook her head sadly. "He didn't know she left."

"He's gone after the Saviours, hasn't he."

"Probably," she nodded. "Lana told us about an outpost that might be nearby, one Dwight would have set up. I'd say he's looking or that."

"Lana," she murmured, looking toward the church where she could see her retreating silhouette. "D-does she know about Daryl?"

"I just told her," Sasha confirmed, her voice heavy. "She didn't take it well."

Carrie stared after her, and then without really thinking about it she set off towards her, needing answers. Her chest was tightening, her heart aflutter with panic. Lana would have the answers, surely she would know what was going on.

"Lana, wait!" she called, trying to walk as quickly as she could manage. "Lana."

To her relief Lana slowed to a stop, but Carrie's heart only sank even more when she turned around. Lana's beautiful face was stained with tears, her cheeks pale and her eyes red from crying. As she waited for Carrie to catch up she crossed her arms across her chest, hunched over a little.

"Did Carol say anything to you?" she asked, desperate for any slither of information she could get. "Was something wrong?"

Her shoulders trembling, Lana shook her head. Her lips were tightly pressed together, and it took a long moment before she managed to compose herself enough to speak. "Everything was fine," she managed to get out, her voice strained. "She was fine."

"She didn't say anything at all?"

Lana shook her head again, looking away as she took a deep, shuddering breath. "I was looking for her hours ago, and her note was just sitting there on the counter," she said in disbelief, her breath catching in her throat. "I didn't see it in the dark…we could have been looking for her hours ago."

"Mom," Judith whined, tugging at her shirt. "It's cold isn't it? It's cold."

Apologising to her she reached down and took one of her little feet, warming it before reaching around to the one behind her back, giving it a squeeze too. For a few horrible moments she stood there out in the cold with Judith and Lana, both trying to make sense of what had happened.

"Why were you looking for her hours ago?" she enquired, for it was barely past eight o'clock in the morning.

"It doesn't matter," Lana muttered glumly, but her body betrayed her as a strained sob slipped from her throat. She reached both hands up and pushed the hair off her face, using her sleeves to dry her cheeks as she continued standing there slightly hunched. "Daryl's going to get himself killed."

"No, he-"

"He is!" she cried. "What the hell does he think he's doing? He can't take them all at once."

Carrie paused, agreeing with her on this. Her heart clenched as she watched the raw emotion on Lana's face, and though she felt compelled to go to her, to put her arms around her and offer comfort, she held herself back. Something told her that would be most unwelcome, a notion supported when she started walking away.

"Lana, are you okay?" she asked weakly, knowing full well that she wasn't. She set off after her, jostling Judith who was still protesting the cold. "Maybe you should come back to my place for a while."

"I want to be alone," she managed to get out, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. "P-please…just leave me alone."

Now knowing what else to do Carrie slowed to a stop and let her go, powerless to do anything else. She was powerless in all of it, forced to wait back here while everyone else went chasing after their wayward family. Five minutes ago everything had been okay, things were looking up, but now it was a downright shit show, again. As she stood there in disbelief she didn't realise she too was crying until Judith clumsily reached up for her face, looking at her in confusion.

"Cold?" Judith enquired, wondering if that was the cause of her tears.

She looked down at her, at someone else's daughter who had become her own. Blissfully unaware of everything going on outside her own little world, Judith was life a safe haven for everyone, allowing them to escape all of their misery simply by being with her. Unsure of what else she could do today, Carrie hastily made her way home where she could only wait.

* * *

A/N Bit of a short chapter, but a necessary one. And while we didn't have the shoot out at the Satellite Station to really push Carol over the edge, I wanted her to follow much the same path as she had done in the TV series.

Things are heating up - and the next chapter kick starts it all! Please do leave a review and let me know what you think, and what you're most worried about as we near the end of season 6 plot!


	40. Chapter 40

The hours were flying by at cruel haste, their search for Carol feeling like it was getting nowhere. They were west of Alexandria, out in unfamiliar territory that none of them had any experience in. This was where Sasha, Abraham and Daryl had ditched the quarry herd, where the Saviours had shot at them thinking they were Sherry and Dwight. With very little to go on they had gone west in search of Carol, hoping that she had come this way because it was less familiar, that it would be harder for them to find her out here.

The day had largely passed in silence, Tobin at the wheel of the car with his saddened eyes trained on the road, using the quiet to try and work through his thoughts. None of them had seen Carol's departure coming, but particularly not Tobin who now had sudden insight into just how well she managed to pull off her facade. She wasn't just acting for the original Alexandrian residents, she was putting on an act for all of them, and they had all been fooled. Of the few times Tobin spoke he had mentioned Carol's letter only once, asking Rick why she had been sent away before. It was difficult explanation to give at the best of times, but today? He had already heard the hint of accusation in Carrie's voice that morning, it was no surprise that Tobin felt largely the same way too.

He had left Carol's letter back in Alexandria, but Rick didn't need to read it again and again to know it was complete bullshit. It was insulting. She had left them with more questions than answers, depriving them all of the opportunity to say goodbye to her, to have closure. Did she really think they would just leave it at that? That they wouldn't come after her? It left him torn between compassion and anger. Part of him knew that if this was what Carol needed to do then they ought to let her, but the other half wasn't so understanding. This wasn't how they deserved to be treated, for her to just take off in the middle of the night.

Hours later they were out there looking for her, refusing to let her go without an adequate explanation, without answering to the people who loved her. His own hurt aside, Rick was furious with Carol for doing this to them, for leaving the people who needed her. Carrie was about to give birth to her first child, and Lana had been counting on Carol's unwavering support and friendship. It was cruel of her to do this to them, especially now. If she didn't want to kill in the impending war with the Saviours then they wouldn't have forced her to, but they didn't negate that they needed her…that they loved her.

As they made their way up the barren streets of this small town centre Rick kept a close eye on Carl, and not just to be sure of his safety. Though he hadn't read the letter he had barely spoken a word after Tobin had explained the reason for Carol's departure, instead sitting silent in the back seat with his arms folded across his chest. What was happening had to be difficult on him too, and Rick tried to be conscious of this. Carol had been with them from the start, and her relationship with Carl had become particularly maternal in the wake of Lori's death. It was only little things, a reminder to brush his teeth before bed, making sure he had enough blankets during winter at the prison, but it had made a huge difference to him.

In the nearby streets they could hear Tobin's voice, his calls for Carol. It reminded Rick to do the same, though his calls were laced with a hint of resentment as well as his desperation. Their efforts to search for Carol were only ever going to be in vain. If she didn't want them to find her then they wouldn't, but they had to at least try. Despite this as the hours slipped by Rick constantly found himself looking at his watch, conscious of what was going on at home. Glenn, Michonne and Rosita were also away, chasing down Daryl who may very well be on a one man suicide mission. The situation was far from ideal, particularly given how many watch posts they needed to keep covered. They had to be prepared for anything that might happen, and they needed people to be at home.

There was a loud clatter to his right, making him whirl around in alarm with his Colt raised. But he breathed out when he saw that it was only an outdoor chair from a nearby restaurant toppling over, though Carl's foul expression seemed to indicate he had kicked it out of his way. This suspicion was immediately supported by the way he slightly limped now, looking as though his right foot was bothering him. Concerned, Rick gave a low whistle to get his attention, and when he looked up he gestured for him to come back across the street.

"Let's go that way," he instructed, gesturing to the road at the intersection ahead. "We haven't covered that section yet."

He fell into step on Carl's right, covering his blind side. As they reached the intersection and made their way down the other road he watched him from the corner of his eye, disappointed that he was wearing the bandage. By now he was supposed to be leaving it off all together. He had been experimenting with different looks, pulling his hair across his face or wearing dark sunglasses, but nothing seemed to be exactly quite what he needed. The surgery at the Kingdom had done wonders to improve his health and finally heal the wound, but it seemed his confidence hadn't quite recovered as Rick would have liked.

"Are you okay?" Rick asked softly, still watching him.

"Yeah," he nodded without hesitation. They walked a few more paces before he looked up at him. "You?"

All things considered, Rick opted to answer honestly. "No."

To his surprise this answer seemed to make Carl's shoulders slump a little, and then came his own honest answer. "Same, I guess."

Saying no more on the subject for now they continued making their way down the road to the outskirts of town, quickly touching base with Tobin so they didn't lose track of one another. Closer to the edge of town was where they found evidence of what happened to Sasha, Abraham and Daryl the day they moved the quarry herd. In the shadow of a tall red brick building was a light blue sedan defaced by a barrage of bullet holes, two corpses sitting dead in the front seats. The first Saviours their group had ever killed, yet there hadn't been time to salvage any useful supplies from them at the time, and since then Alexandria had made a point of not venturing out this way.

When they drew nearer Rick and Carl split up again, approaching the blue sedan from each side with their guns raised. There was movement from the driver who had turned, Carl using the barrel of his gun to gently knock aside shards of glass from the window before reaching in with his knife. With the Walker taken care of they opened the doors and looked inside, Rick wrenching the strap of the submachine gun from around the dead passenger's neck. He admired the firearm before brushing it off slinging it over his shoulder, and then he rifled through the corpse's pockets and the car's interior, taking knives and magazines.

"Behind you," Rick warned, looking past Carl.

Having wrenched the corpse out of the car Carl now saw in the driver's seat, turning the key in the ignition and trying to start it. He glanced up to another Walker approaching on his side, but seemed to pay it little attention. "It's fine. I'll get it in a sec."

Disapproving, Rick pocketed the last of the loot before making his way around the front of the car. The Walker approached slowly, it's right shoulder completely mutilated and arm barely attached, the military uniform a complete wreck. With his knife he made quick work to dispose of it, and then he roughly patted down the uniform pockets, finding nothing but a wallet and photograph of a family. Paying these items little attention he stood up and turned back to the car, ensuring Carl saw his disapproval.

"You don't let them close in on you," he lectured sternly. "Keys."

Doing as he was told, Carl got out of the car and tossed him the keys then joining him at the trunk. They kept their distance as he opened it, automatically stepping back to protect themselves from whatever might be in there, for they had found their share of Walkers in the trunks of cars. There was little of note other than a some magazines and boxes of ammunition, though a plastic container of mouldy food made him think twice about reaching inside to take the loot.

"She's not here," Carl said dejectedly, cramming his pockets with whatever he could fit. "She would have found this already."

Agreeing with him, Rick stuffed his satchel with whatever ammunition was left and then slammed the trunk shut. "We keep looking."

Without protest Carl did as he was told, following Rick's lead as they made their way around the red brick building. He stayed close to him as they passed the rear loading dock, the Walkers seeming to appear from behind every dumpster. They made their way back into the town centre via a different route, still looking into windows and up onto roof tops, seeking any evidence that someone alive had been here recently. But like with so much of the world, this was a ghost town.

"What's up with Lana?"

Surprised not only by the sudden question but also by its topic, Rick looked around in apprehension. "What do you mean?"

"Are she and Daryl a thing now?"

"What would make you think that?'

Carl huffed audibly. "I'm not a little kid. She brought him lunch the other day, stayed for dinner, and then didn't go home. Are they a thing or not?"

For a moment Rick held his tongue, wondering what the best answer was. "It's nothing to do with us."

"I know she's pregnant."

"Carl," he began sternly, genuinely annoyed now. "Your mother and I did not raise you to butt in on other people's business."

"Sorry," he apologised, though without contrition. "So, she is?"

He didn't answer, not figuring that there was much point in issuing a denial if had already heard it elsewhere. His lack of denial was as much an answer as _butt out_.

"Woah," Carl said in disbelief. "I was just stabbing in the dark, I didn't really think she was pregnant."

Now it was himself Rick was annoyed with. "You're to butt out," he warned. "Do not go repeating that to anyone. It's private."

"Is that why she had to see Brea and Mak? Because she's pregnant?"

Considering a new strategy, Rick tactfully changed the subject. "So, you and Enid, huh? You never did tell me what's going on with you two."

Carl's face fell when he realised what he had walked in to, his cheeks reddening as he averted his gaze. "Ummm…you really shouldn't butt into other people's business."

"I'm your father, this is my business. Go on, spill."

Still embarrassed, Carl tilted his hat downward to cover his face. "Nah, I'm okay."

"Then quit stickin' your nose where it doesn't belong."

Suitably chastised Carl shut up, and they walked in silence for a few more blocks, the only sounds being those of the Walkers and their occasional calls to Carol. But much to his surprise Carl was soon striking up conversation again, making Rick question whether his prior nosiness had really just been an attempt to get them talking. While he himself had never been much of a talker, preferring instead to think things through in the privacy of his own head, Carl tended to think out loud, often needing conversation to make sense of his thoughts.

"I know something's wrong with the baby, that it's sick."

"It's not sick," he said quickly, mentally bracing himself. He and Carrie had made a point of not telling Carl that the baby was breech, not wanting him to worry unnecessarily. "The baby is fine."

"I don't believe you. It's why you were so pissed when Brea wouldn't come back."

Figuring he might as well be honest now that he at least suspect, he told him the truth. "The baby is the wrong way around right now, that's all. It will turn over when it's ready."

"Turn over?"

"Somersault," he said lightly, trying to ease Carl's concerns. "It needs to be upside down to be born"

Carl's face fell, his lips parting as he stared at Rick while they walked side by side. "Upside down?" he questioned, his voice wavering. "It comes out _head first_?"

"How did you think it was going to come out?" he questioned, amused by the horror across his son's face. "I thought I told you these things when your mom was pregnant."

"Y-you did…I guess I just never really thought about it."

Leaving Carl to his own horrified thoughts Rick allowed the conversation to stall there, for certainly the details of childbirth were far too embarrassing for Carl to talk about. But to his ongoing surprise, Carl kept talking.

"I was gonna ask if I could be there when the baby comes, but I think I'll just wait in the hall like in the olden days. You know, like when you were born."

Blinking, Rick looked around at him with his eyes narrowed, feeling a little wounded. "I was not born in the olden days."

"You'll be thirty nine in a week," he reminded him, his face brightening just as Rick's fell. "You forgot your own birthday?"

"It slipped my mind." He had other things to worry about.

"That's the dementia starting. Don't forget Judith's birthday on the-"

"The seventeenth. I know."

There was a pause while they took out a couple of Walkers heading their way, but Carl was still not done. "You'll be forty next year. Is that when you have a midlife crisis?"

"You wanna know what people do when they have a midlife crisis?" he challenged, looking Carl in the eye as he wiped blood and viscera off his knife. "They kick their teenage brats to the curb."

He merely scoffed, unconcerned. "You'd never let me move out."

"Just try me."

"Okay," he murmured, thinking to himself. "Would you let me go live at the Kingdom one day?"

"Why do you want to live there?"

Carl shrugged, not wanting to explain. "I was just thinking that I could learn some stuff from Brea and Mak. You know, like doctor stuff."

At this Rick stopped in his tracks, peering as Carl as he readjusted the strap of the gun over his shoulder. "You want to be a doctor?"

He too coming to a stop, Carl tried to play it cool. "I dunno, but it would be good to know how to do important stuff. Like what to do if the baby came."

"I'm not so sure the world's ready for a Doctor Carl Grimes."

Despite the teasing, Carl actually managed a small smile at this, and together they started walking again. "Do you think I could do it? Be a doctor one day?"

Recognising the importance of his answer, Rick spoke with honesty. "I think you're capable of anything you decide to do."

This seemed to be the right thing to say, for he noticed the way Carl's body language changed every so slightly, the way he smiled a little. But too quickly his smile was fading from his face, his lips parting in surprise. "Dad. Look at that."

Following Carl's direction he looked across the pavement to a door ahead of them, feeling his heart jolt when he saw the name _Dixon_. Mystified by the strange anomaly he made his way over, his lips parting in surprise when he found the door slightly ajar. Was this a message from Carol? For a moment he pictured a bizarre scenario in which the two of them had run off together, that Daryl hadn't gone after the Saviours but that he had gone to join Carol out on the road. Was this where they were meeting?

"Looks old," Carl murmured, his fingernails scratching at the black letters.

Indeed it did. The lines were faded in places, the black colour marred by specs of dirt. This wasn't new, and was more likely left by Abraham and Sasha when they got split up that day. Feeling foolish for where his mind had gone Rick tentatively pushed the door open and peered down the hallway, noting what looked like damp footprints on the linoleum. With his gun drawn he cautiously entered while Carl followed, both of them taking a good look at the footprints. The prints were still damp with dirty water from the slush of snow outside, and they were far too large in size to be Carol's.

"Tobin?" he called softly. "You in here?"

Having called out he paused to hear the answer, and a moment later there was the sound of footsteps above. They moved further down the short hall and then found the foot of a steep staircase to the upper floor, he taking one side while Carl waited on the other.

"Announce yourself," he instructed harshly, hearing footsteps at the top of the stairs.

"It's me," Tobin said, his voice disheartened.

Upon catching sight of him Rick lowered his gun, waiting for him to come down. "You saw it too?" he asked, gesturing to the door.

Tobin nodded, and then to their surprise he slumped down to sit on the steps, looking haggard and defeated. He sat there with his hand in his hand, Rick and Carl also taking a moment to dwell on the circumstances they faced.

"She hasn't been anywhere near here," Tobin said softly, not yet raising his head. "This whole town hasn't been touched in months."

Agreeing, Rick tried to weigh up their options. "We should go home," he quickly decided. "It's almost two thirty. Gives us enough time to top up the gas tank and get back on the road before sunset."

"East this time?" Tobin enquired, glancing up now.

"East," he agreed. "We'll go to the Kingdom first, find out what happened with Brea and Richard. Then we'll try the Hilltop."

Though understandably reluctant to take any pause from their search, Tobin morosely agreed to the plan. The three of them returned to where they had left the car and then made quick work of getting home, and though they made it back in good time they returned with an air of failure. There was no getting around the fact that they had returned with only disappointing news, though they were not the only ones with disappointing news. Daryl and the others had yet to return, all four of them having been gone for hours without contact, without any sign or indication of their welfare. Rick had hoped they would be home by now, that he could depend on them to join him as he headed into the city in search of Carol and answers about Richard and Brea.

Now was not the time to risk leaving Alexandria with less man power than necessary, and with this in mind Rick reluctantly postponed their next departure by at least an hour. They needed to wait a little longer, to give the others time to get back…surely they could be far.

"I'd better get home," Tobin said heavily, having accepted the brief delay. Despite his tall stature today he seemed smaller than usual, beaten down. "Thank you, Rick…for coming to look for her."

"We'll go again today," Carl assured him, looking at Rick expectantly. "We'll find her."

He nodded in agreement. "We'll find her."

Going their separate ways now, Rick ran through a mental check list of all the things they would need to do before they departed again. The car would need to be stocked with enough supplies to last them at least twenty four hours, not to mention weapons and a first aid kit. They had left in such a rush that morning that they had taken none of the usual things with them, and they had paid for it when thirst and hunger set in a few hours later.

"Would you check on Maggie please," Rick requested as they passed her house, conscious that both Glenn and Michonne had been out all day. "See if she needs the dishwasher emptied or something."

Though he too was tired and spent Carl went without protest, never hesitating to help out where he was needed. His own home was peaceful when Rick entered, the sound of the television being the only sign of activity. Feeling his weariness grow as he returned to the comforts of home he closed the front door and then put away his weapons, divesting himself of anything he wouldn't want Judith getting her hands on, and then he crept into the living room. There he found Carrie stretched out on the couch fast asleep, Judith snuggled up on the other arm chair with her duck and blanket, she too sleeping. For a moment he stood there and watched them, resisting the urge to stroke his hand over Judith's soft brown hair. Though it was still a mess of curls it had begun darkening lately, her developing features starting to remind him more and more of Lori.

Before he inevitably succumbed to his weariness he went back outside and collected a few pieces of firewood from the corner of their front porch, needing to do this particular job sooner rather than later. Being the first awake Carl was the one who had lit the fireplace that morning, but with the both of them out for the day it had been left to Carrie to tend, a task which she hated. She cringed every time she had to put a piece of wood on the burning embers, always leaning as far back as possible and making a fuss until someone else did it for her. It was about the only thing he'd ever seen her shy away from, and he normally enjoyed teasing her for it. Pulling back the protective gate he stoked the embers before laying down two pieces of wood, and he lingered there to ensure they caught alight.

"Thank you," Carrie murmured from behind him. Pushing herself up she was rubbing her eyes, grunting with the exertion of getting upright.

A pause came to pass, Carrie seated on the couch while he knelt at the fireplace. Neither of them wanted to say anything, to broach the question or answer they knew had to come. A few moments later Rick forced himself to say something, knowing he couldn't delay it forever. "There's no sign of her." He hesitated, taking a deep breath. "No sign of anyone."

Without a word Carrie pushed herself up and walked away, the atmosphere heavy with the burden of what they faced. Trying to find some element of comfort Rick watched her go, admiring the distinct waddle with which she went to the downstairs bathroom.

"Are you okay?" she asked when she returned.

At her question he realised he was still kneeling in front of the fireplace, and so he hastened to find his feet. He didn't want her to worry about him. "Tired," he answered shortly. Tired. Drained. Depleted…he wasn't okay.

"Lay down with me," she suggested, pouring two glasses of orange juice from the refrigerator. Going about their usual process she watered it down, stretching the strictly rationed luxury as far as they could. "We can even watch Die Hard if you want."

Slumping down onto the end of the couch he pulled off his boots and socks, tossing them aside as he looked at the television. Mamma Mia was playing, Meryl Streep and Pierce Brosnan serenading one another…it was quite the fall from grace given the man had once played James Bond.

"This is fine," he said, earning himself some points. He thanked her when she brought over his drink, gratefully sipping at it and quenching a thirst he didn't realise he had.

"There was nothing out there?" Carrie asked heavily, rearranging her pillows and ushering him further towards the end of the couch before she sat down. "No sign of them at all?"

He shook his head, bringing her legs onto his lap as she got comfortable. "Sasha seems to think Daryl might have gone north looking for Saviours near by. We searched up that way, but we couldn't get far. As for Carol, she…she's probably laying low somewhere."

"And you still don't know why she left? Were she and Tobin having problems?"

"Not according to him. We're going back out in a few hours. We'll stop by the Kingdom and the Hilltop."

"Maybe I should come with you," she said cautiously, bringing up their discussion from that morning.

He shook his head, not wanting to get into it again. "We're not at that stage yet."

Though he could see that she had more to say, Carrie seemed to second guess herself and instead turned her attention back to the television. As he watched her from the corner of his eye Rick knew that she was trying to hide how upset she was about everything. A part of him wanted to broach the subject again, for surely she had more questions about the note that Carol left, but he couldn't bear to hear that hint of accusation in her voice again. _Rick, when did you send her away?_ He hated hearing that from her, seeing the pain written across her face as she came to the realisation that Carol had abandoned them without really telling them why. That note didn't count, that wasn't the type of goodbye they deserved.

When Carrie moved her legs aside and ushered him to lay down with her he didn't hesitate, grateful for the suggestion. Her mountain of pillows made things difficult, but allowed him to rest his head on her side, ear pressed against her belly as though he could hear their child inside her. As the movie started playing again she reached down and slid her fingers into his hair, lazily scratching his scalp and eliciting a long moan from his throat. He loved it when she did that, and imploring her to keep going he made himself comfortable and then closed his eyes…but not for long.

Feeling a change beneath his hands, Rick's eyes fluttered open as he looked towards her belly. His heart racing for a moment he pulled back her shirt and looked at her skin, tentatively observing the change he had felt. Her skin felt hard now, her belly visibly tight for a few long moments, not that it seemed to concern her.

"You felt that?" she enquired, watching him. "It's a Braxton Hicks, they're normal."

He nodded shortly, amazed by the way her belly remained tense a few moments more before slowly relaxing, feeling softer once again. "Does it hurt?"

She paused at this question, her silence making him look up. "Not usually…they started to feel uncomfortable yesterday."

At this he sat up a little, feeling concerned. "You're not going into labour are you?"

"I don't think so," she murmured, surprising him by pushing her shirt back down to cover her belly. "I asked Maggie, she said hers started getting uncomfortable about a week before she went into labour. "

Perturbed by the news, for Denise had told him these contractions were not supposed to hurt, Rick lowered his head back down to the pillows, allowing his hand to return to its former place on her belly. Was this why she had been so insistent that morning? He hadn't been able to fathom her sudden interest in leaving their home behind to go to the Kingdom, particularly given they'd have to leave Judith behind. For a week they had been trying everything they could to get the baby to turn the right way, using cold packs and flashlights at the top of her belly, massages, yoga, sex, but nothing had been successful.

"That was another one," he murmured, having roused some time later to feel her belly tensing again.

"It was different," she assured him. "It was only short."

Despite her assurances, the seed had been sewn, and now he too was feeling a sense of urgency that he had thus far avoided. Three weeks until full term felt like a great deal of time, but less so given it could happen any day now. It wasn't completely unreasonable to be worried about her going into labour…it just wasn't safe for it to happen yet.

He was falling asleep when he felt Carrie moving underneath him, only just hearing her apology as she got to her feet and made her way to the bathroom again. In a deep, well deserved sleep he felt the hours slipping away, and surely he slept through the night and well into the next day, for when he awoke his head was heavy and sluggish. But something was compelling him to come around, a sense of urgency that hadn't roused him when Carrie got up for the bathroom. When his eyes fluttered open he looked first to the armchair on the other side of the living room, finding that Judith was no longer curled up asleep there, but he wasn't alarmed. He could hear her somewhere, chattering away as she occupied herself, and so long as she wasn't near the fireplace or up to mischief he wasn't too concerned. But it was the sound of another conversation that had awoken him, and barely had he lifted his head before Carrie was rushing into the living room, her belly the first part of her that he saw coming.

"Rick, get up now."

At this he found the burst of energy he needed, a surge of adrenaline that saw him pushing himself up and reaching for his shoes without a second thought. "Was' goin' on?" he murmured sleepily, fumbling to pull his boots on.

"It's Lana," Carrie told him, already passing him his duty belt that had been set onto the dining room table. "Something's wrong."

He stopped in his tracks, looking up at her. "What?"

Abraham revealed himself, stepping into the living room. His expression was one of measured panic, but like always he was keeping a level head. "She was rostered for watch at three o'clock but never showed. Aaron went to find her, but when she wouldn't answer from the shower he made Francine look through the window."

"And?"

"Belly up on the floor, passed out. He and Tobin broke the door down, they're taking her to the Infirmary as we speak."

"A lot of good that's going to do with no doctor," he muttered darkly, slinging his duty belt around his hips and securing it. "Did she take those abortion pills? Today might have tipped her over the edge."

"Doubtful," he said shortly. "Those pills were checked in last week and locked with the restricted meds. She doesn't have a key."

Thanking Carrie when she thrust his jacket at him he slipped it on, stopping at the safe by the front door to get his gun. "Is she conscious yet?"

"She'd come around when I saw her, seems to be in a bit of pain. No one else is back yet."

As they headed out the door Rick glanced over his shoulder at Carrie. "Stay here with Judith, I'll handle this."

"Yeah, sure," she assured him, though he took it with a grain of salt. If he knew his wife at all, she wouldn't be far behind him.

Word that Lana passed out had spread quickly, and already people were meeting them out on the street asking what they could do, blindly offering their help. For the most part Rick sent them back home, back to their watch posts where they would maintain Alexandria's security, but it was to Carl and Eugene he gave a task.

"Go outside, bring the RV in. We might need it."

"Something's wrong with Lana, isn't there?" Carl asked, following him a few paces. "She's sick?"

"Just get the RV. Make sure it's got gas and some to spare."

"Check that damn battery too," Abraham said gruffly. "It was fritzin' on the way back from the Hilltop."

"We got it," he assured them, he and Eugene already racing off to find the keys.

At the Infirmary Aaron met them on the front porch, having been awaiting their arrival. "I'll put together a group to go out, and I'll make sure all the watch posts are covered. If we have to go I'm coming with you."

"Thank you," he said shortly, making his way past him. "Make sure there's one person here in charge, one person making the calls."

He entered the Infirmary slowly, trying to gauge the situation before he went barging in. He found Lana sitting in the leather Lazy Boy chair that he had frequently spent the night in during the days following Carl's gunshot to the face. Her wet hair was plastered to her head and she was shrouded in the patchwork quilt that Carol kept over the back of her couch, and even at first glance she didn't look well. Francine sat by her side holding her hand, while Tobin stood in the kitchen adding a hydralyte tablet to a glass of water.

"I'm okay," she said firmly, looking Francine in the eye. "Really, you're over reacting."

As he came closer Francine glanced up at him, glad to see that he had arrived, but she quickly turned back to Lana. "You passed out Lana, I saw you there on the floor."

"I just needed to lay down, that's all," she insisted, but the emotional hitch in her voice betrayed her, as did her state.

Pale and clammy, her eyes were red and cheeks stained with tears, and it was difficult to tell whether she was in denial or she was trying to deter any efforts to get her to medical treatment. Making his way in Rick braced himself to deal with this, knowing that as her leader it was up to him to make the best call for her, even if it was a call she didn't want him to make. When Tobin brought over the drink Lana took it gratefully, but she sipped at it only tentatively, closing her eyes and trying to hide a grimace when she swallowed.

Wanting to get straight to the point Rick took the stool that Denise usually occupied, and he brought it over to where Lana sat. Ignoring the way she was pointedly trying to avoid his gaze he reached out and took her hand, refusing to let her deny that she wasn't well.

"Lana, look at me please," he began, squeezing her hand. "Look at me."

It took forever for her to do so, Lana delaying for as long as she could. Reaching up with her other hand she roughly brushed at her eyes, taking a shuddering breath before she turned to him. She tried to smile, a poor attempt to reassure him that everything was okay, that he didn't need to do what she knew he was going to do.

"Tell me what's wrong," he said softly, holding her gaze. "The truth, please."

"I just haven't had enough to eat. Morning sickness, that's all."

"She's been bleeding," Francine spoke up, looking at her apologetically. "I saw your underwear in the hamper."

"It was only a little."

"She can barely stand up she's in so much pain," Francine added next. "Tobin had to pick her up from the bottom of the shower."

Raising his hand to placate her a little, and then he turned back to Lana a second time. "What's wrong?"

Still she continued denying it, trying to muster up an element of anger and annoyance at them all, but her efforts fell flat. Seeing that none of them were accepting her denials she was forced to accept her position, and she reluctantly told them. "I think it might be my appendix," she said quietly, swallowing heavily. "I had appendicitis just before the outbreak, but it cleared up with antibiotics."

"Where's the pain?"

"Here," she answered, gesturing towards her right hip. "It feels like it did before."

For a moment he sat there taking in what she had just told him, considering the potential magnitude of this. He looked over his shoulder to Abraham and Tara, glad to see that they were sharing his train of thought. If it was appendicitis and she was in enough pain to faint she could be in trouble…they had to get her to the Kingdom or the Hilltop, it didn't matter which. A short nod from him was all they needed to put things into motion.

"Why didn't you tell someone?" Tobin asked heavily, crouching down next to her on the couch. "We should have done something hours ago."

"I wanted to tell Carol last night," she said apologetically. "But when she wasn't in bed I thought she must be on watch, and then I just…I hoped it would get better."

"It's not going to get better. We're taking you to get help," Rick told her, getting to his feet. "You're going to get dressed, and we're going right now."

At this Lana's resolve seemed to crumble, and she tightly screwed her eyes shut before turning away from him. With her entire face screwed up she seemed to hold her breath, using one hand to hide herself before she gave a deep, shuddering breath. She seemed to ignore Tobin's reassurances and words of comfort, quickly becoming overcome with emotion.

"I c-can't go," she finally managed to say, her voice taut with fear. "Not yet."

Halfway to the door Rick stopped in his tracks and turn around. "Why not?"

"I just can't," she said, her voice almost a wail now. She started to cry now, still looking away in embarrassment, but finally she said something that explained it. "When is Daryl going to be back?"

At this mention Rick began to understand, and his heart sank for her. "I don't know."

"Then I can't go yet," she said, roughly wiping at her cheeks. "He doesn't know what's happening."

"We can tell him later."

She shook her head, trying to stand her ground. "He told me he'd be there," she insisted. "He said he'd see this through with me. I'm not going without him."

"You don't have a choice, Lana."

"I do have a choice!" she snapped. "It's his baby, I'm waiting for him!"

Pausing for a moment, Rick took a deep breath and then crouched down before her, carefully chose his words. "I'm sorry that he's not here Lana, but _we_ are. We are here with you, and we are taking you to get help. Do you understand?"

Still refusing to look at him, Lana's lower lip was trembling. "I want to wait for him," she insisted, his voice whisper soft.

"We can't afford to wait," he implored her, moving closer and then taking her hand again. "I'm not asking you, Lana, I'm telling you. Get up and get dressed, now."

Leaving it at that, for he wasn't going to hear any further arguments, Rick simply gave her hand a firm squeeze and then left, but to his relief she didn't argue again. Allowing Francine to come forward and help her get dressed Rick swiftly made his way back outside the Infirmary, making the final arrangements of who was going and who was staying. As he suspected he found Carrie waiting outside on the porch with Judith on her hip, nervously awaiting the outcome of what had been decided. He could tell in an instant of looking at her that she had not forgotten what she said that morning, her suggestion that she be taken to the Kingdom too. The very thought of taking her out onto the road made his stomach turn, but not quite as much as the thought of what else might happen to her and their baby. What if she was right…what if there was more danger in her staying here giving birth to a breech baby unassisted? He had already lost one wife to child birth, and he had done everything he could to ensure she would safe…could he risk losing another?

Thankfully any discussion was deterred by the arrival of the RV, Carl sitting at the wheel as he brought it around to the front of the Infirmary and parked it. When it came to a stop Eugene emerged from inside, propping the door open before putting a call out to bystanders for blankets, water and medical supplies. For a few short minutes the RV was getting underway, and in the midst Tobin brought Lana out. She managed to walk the short distance, but her steps were slow and her torso hunched over. Though she tried to hide it, he could see that she was trying not to clutch her lower belly. Denial aside, she was in pain…this was bad.

"Eugene," he began, catching him by the sleeve. "Get a stretcher, just in case."

While Eugene raced off and Sasha corralled the travellers into position, Rick followed Tobin and Lana inside. He was helping her into the back bedroom, and there she gingerly sat down on one of the beds. She was trembling now, gratefully taking one of the spare pillows and propping it up against the wall behind her. Instead of laying down she stayed seated, her legs pulled up to her chest and her head resting on the wall. She thanked Tobin quietly, accepting his kiss on the cheek before he departed.

"Sasha's asked me to stay behind," he said quietly, looking torn about the decision. "Are you sure that's best?"

Rick nodded, trusting Sasha's judgement of who was best to stay and go. "We'll need you here leading everyone, keeping the posts covered."

Understanding, Tobin nodded and clapped Rick on the shoulder, leaving him to it for now. While Carl and Eugene arrived with the stretcher Rick made his way further into the back, setting a battle of water down onto the table between the two beds. Lana looked up at him properly, looking more scared than he had ever seen her, even that night her past as a Saviour had been revealed.

"Please can't we wait for him?" she asked tearfully. "Just one more hour?"

Apologising to her, he refused her request once more. Bringing a spare blanket and setting it down beside her Rick set his hand on top of her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Everything's going to be okay. We'll get you to the Kingdom, you're just going to have to sit tight for an hour or so."

She nodded slowly, closing her eyes as she rested her head back and accepted what was going to happen. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Wanting to get on the road he hastened to check on how things were going, keeping track of what they did and did not already have in the RV. As he stepped out Sasha staggered in, her arms laden with guns and ammunition, while Aaron followed her carrying all the kevlar and body armour he could hold. They were going prepared, that was for sure.

"Are we ready?" he asked Abraham, looking around at the people who were watching on. Exactly where he had left her Carrie stood at the end of the Infirmary porch with Judith on her hip, looking at him. "Did we get that battery?"

"We've got a spare," Carl announced.

"Did you check it was charged?"

"Yeah," he panted, he too carrying pieces of body armour into the RV. "I checked it."

"Tank's full, and we got some spare cans," Abraham assured him. "Let's get this lump o' junk on the road."

In agreement Rick told everyone coming to get in, doing a quick headcount of who was coming and who was staying, confident they had balanced things as best they could given they were short five people. But just as he turned to speak with Carrie he stopped short, for she was already making her way to him.

"Maybe I should come," she said urgently, her voice wavering with nerves.

"It's not the right time," he shook his head, trying to brush her off. He didn't need this right now.

"It's never going to be the right time. It's never going to be safe," she implored, grabbing his hand when he tried to turn away. "Please…I don't want to be stuck here with no one who can help me."

Feeling his calm facade beginning to spiral, he looked at her in sheer desperation, wishing he knew what to do. He was stuck between trying to keep her safe in Alexandria and guaranteeing she had the medical care she needed. Neither option was exactly the right thing to do, but neither was a guarantee of safety. Sooner or later the Saviours were going to make it to Alexandria, but they never set foot in the Kingdom.

"No matter what we do we're taking a risk," Carrie continued, her voice calm and measured as she spoke the very thoughts going through his mind. "Let's just get this over with so we can stop worrying."

With Carrie having spoken her mind and made her wishes clear, Rick came to his own decision. Have gave a short nod of agreement, noting the look of relief on her face, but then he gestured to Judith. "She's not coming. Not today."

Carrie faltered now, blinking as she turned and looked at Judith who she still carried on her hip. "But she-"

"I'm not taking her out there like this," he argued. "She has to stay."

Swearing under her breath she seemed to briefly reconsider her position. "We might only be there a week," she murmured, talking herself into it again. "If I have to stay at the Kingdom, you need to come home and be with her."

"We'll figure it out later," he said hurriedly, turning to Judith and kissing her cheek. He stroked her hair and then tickled the crook of her neck, giving the false reassurance that they would all be back soon. "Give her to Olivia."

"Okay…okay," she murmured, letting him kiss Judith one more time before she too said her farewells.

Leaving her to it Rick turned to get into the RV, momentarily startled to find Carl standing there in the threshold, clearly having been listening to their conversation. He braced himself for an argument, but thankfully it didn't come.

"I'll get her bag," Carl said shortly, tossing his hat onto the table before jumping out and setting off for home at a sprint.

Relieved to have no argument from him Rick turned to the others now, grateful that they quickly and briefly voiced their support for the decision. They might not yet know the details of why they were worried, but they didn't need to question the level of thought he had put into this decision.

Barely a minute later Carl returned with Carrie's baby bag over his shoulder, one she had packed in preparation for a last minute departure much like this. He stopped by her side and then gave his sister a sweet kiss on the cheek, ruffling her hair as he farewelled her. But it was Carrie who lingered the longest, rubbing Judith's back as if she was the one who needed comforting, not her. Wondering if perhaps she was having second thoughts he glanced at his watch, conscious of their urgency to get on the road.

"Carrie," he called out, hating to rush her. "We have to go."

She nodded to acknowledge she had heard him, and then she hugged Judith as close as she could. When she finally handed her over to Olivia he was proud to see that she was putting on a brave face, that just as he had she was making the effort to reassure Judith that all would be well. Even with their sudden and unexplained departure, they would be the ones who missed Judith more than she missed them. She loved being babysat by Olivia, usually trying to refuse her return home at the end of a long day playing in the Pantry.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked her, giving her the opportunity to change her mind.

Though she looked back at Judith once more, she stood firm in her decision. "We can do this," she said decisively, looking to him for reassurance.

"We can do this," he agreed, quickly ushering her inside and then following.

"Rick, wait!" Tobin called, rushing over before he could close the door. "Rick, if the Saviours come…I was thinking, maybe we should make that deal with them?"

Standing on the lower step Rick looked at him incredulously, though he knew the suggestion came from the right place. "If the Saviours show up, tell them wait for me," he instructed, his voice dripping with acid. "I've got a deal for them."

* * *

All in all, things started off well enough. Their departure from Alexandria was hurried but organised, the RV packed with everything they would need for the duration of the journey. They had enough gas to get to the Kingdom with some to spare, medical supplies, food and water, weapons…a stretcher too, for Lana could barely walk as it was. Twenty minutes into their journey and everything was going smoothly, and while they travelled at speed Abraham was taking it easy on the gas, his gentle driving minimising Lana's discomfort as they travelled.

Holed up in the back bedroom, Carrie sat cross legged on the end of Lana's bed, keeping her company as best she could. Lana was curled up at the other end, legs pulled to her chest and head resting against the wall. She refused any suggestion to lay down, having found what position was the most comfortable to relieve her pain, and she wasn't going to move. For twenty minutes they rode in near silence, Carrie not even faltering when Lana suddenly sat forward and vomited into a nearby bucket. Her stomach turning in revulsion, she did her best to comfort her when she vomited again, holding her hair back and offering her sips of water to cleanse her mouth.

Every moment she sat there with her Carrie's stomach writhed with guilt, wishing that she had been more thoughtful. She knew that Lana was upset that morning, that she had been distressed by Carol and Daryl's unexpected departures. At the time she hadn't looked well, but Carrie had put that down to the distress of what was going on, and she wished now that she had done something about it. All it would have taken was a brief visit, for her to have strapped Judith into the stroller and gone for a walk around the streets. Maybe she could have done something to help earlier, they have been at the Kingdom by now. But instead she had stayed home watching television, too tired and unmotivated to do anything other then keep up a good supply of snacks for she and Judith.

Seeking distraction from her thoughts, Carrie tried to reassure herself that she and Rick had made the right decision, that it was wiser for them to ensure she made it to the Kingdom than to risk forcing Brea back on a second trip. Nevertheless she hadn't been prepared for the reality of leaving, for the way her heart raced and her stomach turned as she said goodbye to Judith. She had tried to explain it to her, telling her that Olivia was coming to stay for a couple of days, but it was clear she hadn't quite comprehended it. Simply believing that Carrie or Rick would be back later she had kissed them goodbye and happily left with Olivia, though perhaps it was better this way. There was no telling when Rick, Carrie and Carl would make it back to Alexandria…maybe it was better that Judith didn't know that.

Footsteps in the hall alerted her to an approach, and she raised her head just as Rick made his way into the rear bedroom. His features had been taut with tension when they departed, but every time he came in here he seemed appropriately at ease, presenting a calm facade to Lana who needed it. This time he was bringing back a clean bucket for her, having thrown the vomit filled one straight out the RV door when Abraham slowed for a curve in the road. As he entered he brushed his hand over Carrie's shoulder and then went to Lana.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her, setting the new bucket within her reach before taking a seat on the bed. He reached to her now, taking her hand in his and holding it.

"I'm okay," she weakly insisted, still trying to downplay her pain. "We can't be far now, right?"

"No, we're not far," he assured her. "Almost there."

Carrie held her tongue, for despite Rick's assurances they all knew exactly how far away they were. They had only just made it a third of the way there. It would take another twenty minutes to reach the Kingdom's territory in the city, and even longer after that to make it through the protective maze of cars, longer if there were Walkers about. Nevertheless there were times that called for blind reassurances rather than reality, and this qualified.

"I'm sorry that we couldn't wait for Daryl," Rick continued, his voice soft and comforting. "I know you wanted him to be here with you. But we're going to get you there. Mak and Brea will make sure the baby's okay, and we'll be there with you."

There was a brief pause, and with Rick in the way she couldn't see Lana's face, she couldn't tell if his words had helped her or not. "Thank you, Rick…I know I don't deserve this. I…"

Lana's voice trailed off as they felt the RV beginning to slow, and not just for an upcoming bend in the road. Looking over his shoulder Rick peered down the long hallway, allowing Carrie a brief glimpse of the moment his features tightened. Lips parting in surprise he smoothly got to his feet and slipped out of the bedroom, the RV continuing to slow until they were rolling to a stop. Trying to gauge the change Carrie looked at Lana on the other end of the bed, glad to see that she was as surprised as her. Already she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, instinct telling her that something wasn't right.

"I'm sure it's just some Walkers," she murmured, shuffling down towards Lana. "Do you want some more water? I could rewarm the heat pack for you."

She shook her head. "See what it is," she whispered, intentionally keeping her voice down.

Barely had she made it upright before Carl was there in the doorway, waving at her to get down. Obeying she hastily crouched to her knees and looked up at him, suddenly taken aback by how he had grown over the last few months. A change had come over him lately, he seemed more confident in himself, and today that confidence was evident.

"Stay down," he told her firmly, and she was taken aback by the confident authority in his voice.

"Carl, what is it?" she asked, staying where she was as he rushed in and started closing the drapes above each bed. Looking down the hall she watched in confusion as Abraham, Rick, Sasha, Eugene and Aaron filed out of the RV one by one, and an instant later Carl was following them. "Carl!"

"Just stay down," he hissed, catching up and stepping out of the RV after Aaron did.

For what felt like forever Carrie did as she was asked, not that she could have gotten up if she wanted to. Suddenly she felt rooted to the spot, paralysed. Something was wrong that much was clear, though she couldn't hear the sound of a fight, not against man or Walker. Still crouched in the bedroom she placed her hand on her belly, feeling the hard, round shape of the baby's head near her ribs. Her decision to come had been about the baby, about doing everything possible to ensure it was born safely…was she about to regret that?

When Lana tried to sit up it was then she managed to move, to make her limbs cooperate. Ushering her to stay on the bed, she clumsily crept through the bedroom and into the hallway, shuffling along on her knees. All was quiet as far as she could tell, but when she slowly raised her head and began looking out front that was when her heart sank, understanding dawning on her. She looked at each of her group lined up along the road, facing off against the group further down. They seemed to be talking, and then to her relief Rick lowered his hands and gun from the air, standing his ground. She was desperate to see more, to get a fuller picture of what was going on, but she didn't dare risk raising her head any higher, not wanting to be seen. At this Rick raised one hand in the air and instructed the group to return to the RV, and he waited a moment before following them.

The moment Aaron stepped inside the RV she was at him. "Aaron, what's-"

"Stay down," he urgently implored her.

"I am down, just tell me what's going on."

As the others too returned Carrie was forced to back up and make room for them, and quickly she found herself back in the bedroom, Carl practically standing guard on her by the door. There was absolute silence, Carrie looking past everyone else as she tried to see Rick, wondering where he was.

"You wanna make today your last day on earth?"

The sound of his voice nearby wasn't comforting at all. She didn't understand what had been said, but she knew her husband's tone of voice, that he was laying down a challenge. There were a few long moments of more silence, and still Rick did not return to the RV. Everyone was waiting with bated breath, no one speaking or looking at one another.

"You do the same."

Clearly indicating that the conversation out there was over Rick entered the RV and closed the door behind himself, though it did nothing to break the silence in there. Hidden by the silhouettes of the others Carrie slowly got to her feet and properly looked out the front, her heart jolting when she saw someone waving before stepping up to a figure on the ground and kicking them. The engine started again, the RV rumbling as they started backing up in preparation for turning around. To her relief Rick was making his way past the others to join her in the back, his calm facade never faltering.

"Who was that on the ground?" she whispered to him, the two of them standing together at the mouth of the hallway.

"Not one of ours."

"Are they Saviours?" she asked, dreading the answer. He nodded, avoiding her gaze in favour of looking at the floor. "What do they want?"

"What we expected. Half our stuff, and-"

"Rick!" Lana exclaimed from the bedroom, sounding upset. "That's Simon, he's-"

She was cut off when he rushed into the bedroom, lunging for her hand that had parted the blinds to see through them. As the RV backed up and turned to depart Lana had managed to get a clear view of the blockade they had faced, and she recognised the people there. Imploring her to stay down Rick took both her hands in his, both to comfort her and keep her from accidentally revealing herself. There he stayed now, talking quietly to her, urgently trying to make her understand even as she argued back at him.

Still not quite understanding, Carrie turned to face Carl who had come to her side. Just like Rick he wore the same calm facade, but in his eyes shone a fierce determination, one that she hadn't seen from him in many months.

"They want half our stuff," he explained to her quietly before gesturing into the bedroom. "And her."

* * *

A/N And so begins the new phase of this story - the Negan arc! I am so excited to finally be here - the next few chapters are among my favourite, and take us on a really interesting journey with the characters! Cannot wait to hear your thoughts, so please leave a review! Cheers.


	41. Chapter 41

A/N Apologies for any typos, I literally spent the day ploughing through chapters 52 and 53, and barely had time to finish this one off. Writing Negan is so much fun!

* * *

Manoeuvring herself out of the RV's cramped bathroom facilities, Carrie rubbed sanitiser gel over her hands before returning to her seat at the table. It had been forty minutes since they had encountered Simon's group on the road, forty minutes in which they had back tracked and decided on a new but longer route to the Kingdom…only to run into another problem, another blockade. Slowly lowering herself to the seat at the table, Carrie turned forward and looked at the map, her belly brushing up against the table top. Opposite her sat Eugene, who like the rest of them was unusually quiet. Though neither group had attacked them she doubted they ever intended to engage them in a fight.

Lana had warned them that something like this was going to happen, that her mere presence as a Sanctuary defector only endangered them more. At the time they had brushed this aside, imploring her to understand that she was a part of their community now, that she would be protected and fought for just like everyone else. But somehow the Saviours knew she was there with them, it was her they wanted…had Dwight recognised her the other day? Had someone glimpsed her face and drawn a damning conclusion?

"You're not listening to me," Lana had pleaded from the bedroom, pushing Rick away as he tried to reassure her. "You have to let me out. If they find me with you, it'll be worse."

"I can't do that to you," Rick refused, everyone else in agreement. "You won't make it anywhere on foot. If we leave you on the side of the road, you will die."

"There's going to be more of them," she argued vehemently, somehow managing to find her feet. She stood hunched over, her arm slung low over her belly as she took a couple of deep breaths. "You know what they're doing."

"We will fight them."

"You can't fight that many!" she suddenly shouted, though immediately she regretted it.

With a small whimper her knees began to shake, and slowly she lowered herself back to the bed. Trying to offer comfort Rick had stayed with her, the two of them talking quietly amongst themselves, but Carrie could gather the gist of what she was trying to explain to him. By now it was too late, they had already walked straight into the trap that the Saviours had set for them. They were going to be caught, but if they were caught with Lana things would only be worse.

He and Aaron swapping places for a while, Rick emerged from the back bedroom and sank down onto the couch behind the front seat, the rifle resting across his lap. Watching him from the dining table Carrie waited for him to look up, wanting to catch his eye and offer an iota of reassurance, but he pointedly avoided her gaze. They had barely spoken since their encounter with Simon and the first blockage, neither of them knowing what to say to the other. Their mutual decision to bring her with them to the Kingdom had gone terrible wrong.

Maybe they ought to stop and lay low for a while, for as long as Lana could make it…or maybe Carrie ought to call it quits on the entire thing. They had enough food, water and weapons to spare her…she could lay low somewhere for a while as the others went on ahead. Maybe if she waited this mess would just blow over. At this thought Carrie looked back at the map and traced their route, orienting herself. Two attempts of making it to the Kingdom had been thwarted by now, first their route into the city and then their longer route north…now they were heading in the opposite direction, taking a new route to the Hilltop colony. It was now their best option.

"How are we on gas?" Rick asked, getting up to kneel between the two front seats.

"Half a tank," Abraham answered. "I pulled some more cans before we left."

It was Sasha who mentioned what they were all thinking. "Those weren't the same men who blocked the road the first time."

"Same outfit, different soldiers," Abraham acknowledged, before muttering something that Carrie couldn't hear.

"We keep driving," Rick said firmly, trying to convey confidence. "We get her there…both of them."

"We will."

"If we have to shove each and everyone of them up their own asses."

Unable to tolerate just sitting there, Carrie eased herself out from the dining table and made her way into the back bedroom again. There she found Aaron sitting on the bed with Lana, holding her hand in his as he made a soft prayer, both of their eyes closed. Not interrupting she took a seat on the opposite bed and closed her eyes too, bowing her head and listening to Aaron's soft words. She heard Lana give a small whimper, and she cracked her eyes to see the way she was wiping tears from her face, struggling to hold herself together.

"…and in the Lord's plan we trust. Amen."

Murmuring the _Amen_ too Carrie raised her head properly now, catching Lana's eye. Fussing over her for a few minutes Aaron stood and opened one of the overhead cupboards, taking out a thick blanket and another pillow. Helping her get more comfortable he fluffed the pillows before spreading the blanket across her lap, but no sooner had she put her head back was she sitting up again.

"I need to go to the bathroom…I think I'm bleeding."

Without delay he helped her up to her feet, Carrie joining them as they helped her shuffle across the bedroom to their tiny toilet. While Aaron turned away to offer some privacy Carrie lingered, and when Lana weakly fumbled with the button on her jeans she helped her, mentally trying to brace herself for what they were going to find in her underwear. By the time they managed to shuffle her jeans and underwear down they were both holding their breath in anticipation, but when they found not a trace of blood Lana let out a heavy sigh of relief.

"That has to be good," Carrie assured her as she helped her back to the bedroom. "Has the pain changed?"

Lana shook her head, sinking down to the edge of the bed and sitting there for a moment, unmoving. "T-the Royal Flying Doctor service had to take my little brother to Perth in an air ambulance," she began, recounting a rare story from her past. "They thought he had a twisted bowel, that he was dying. Turns out he was just constipated." She gave a tearful laugh, wiping her eyes as she raised her head and looked back to Carrie and Aaron. "Maybe that's what this is…maybe it's just nothing."

"Your brother, he was okay?" Aaron asked, fluffing up her pillows again.

"Yeah. A few laxatives and he was good to go…literally."

Despite her attempt to stay positive Lana slowly slumped down onto the bed and closed her eyes, laying down this time instead of sitting upright. Her breathing had become shallow, and Carrie couldn't help but think her eyes looked a little glassy. Was she imagining that? Was she seeing the worst case scenario, or was Lana going to die right before her eyes?

"She'll be okay," Aaron whispered to her, taking the blanket and spreading it over Lana's form once again. "We'll get her there."

As if the world was mocking him they felt the RV starting to slow again, the sudden change making Lana open her eyes again. In an instant the atmosphere became fraught with tension, and while Aaron rushed into the front Carrie hauled herself back to her feet as they came to a complete stop. She peered down the hall to where everyone was crowding around the front, looking out at something on the road, and she crept down the hall to see too.

"We can't go through it, we can't risk the RV," Rick was murmuring. There was silence for a few moments, and then he glanced at Carrie over his shoulder before standing upright, having reached a decision. "You stay behind the wheel, just in case," he said to Abraham, bringing his AR15 into his hands. "We'll clear it."

Standing in the kitchen Carrie watched as everyone but Abraham filed out of the RV, and it was then she moved closer to the front. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach, confusion rife within her…blocking the road ahead of them were a dozen or so Walkers chained together, snarling and eagerly lunging for the group of living beings that were boldly approaching them. Guns raised Rick and the others spread out across the road, observing the Walkers up close and personal for a few moments.

"This is them," Carrie muttered to herself, studying each of the Walkers. "The Saviours."

In the drivers seat Abraham was uncharacteristically silent, showing to her just how serious their situation was becoming. This was their third route and they were blocked again…no matter what they did they would be blocked again and again. As the magnitude of this hit home to her she started to feel genuinely terrified. Lana was dying before their very eyes, while she and her unborn baby were caught up in a dangerous game with the Saviours. Their Hilltop was their second plan…were they going to make it there?

"What in tarnation is he doing?" Abraham breathed, leaning forward over the steering wheel.

Following suit, Carrie narrowed her eyes and tried to see what it was that compelled Rick to reach out to one of the Walkers, to risk putting his bare hand so close to its face. He roughly seized it's hair and then safely stepped away, peering at whatever it was he held in his hands, but as he moved Carrie caught proper sight of the Walker in question. In that horrible moment it felt like the walls were closing in on them, like the sky would fall at any given moment…the Walker was wearing a leather waistcoat, and in Rick's hand was a long, black dread lock. Feeling sick to her stomach she cast her eyes across the other chained Walkers, seeing the crossbow bolts lodged in the belly of another…she didn't need to guess what this all meant.

"We can't tell Lana," she said lowly, turning away just as Rick raised his axe to cut down the blockade.

When the gunfire started Carrie sank down to her knees, seeking shelter. From the first shots it was apparent the shots were not fired from her own people, but rather at them. In an instant chaos ensured, Abraham starting the engine up and laying his hand on the horn, while their out on the road began firing back. They were looking all around, firing indiscriminately into the trees above while all around their feet dirt rose in plumes.

"Go!" Rick was yelling, he and Sasha the last to retreat. "Back to the RV!"

As Aaron, Carl and Eugene came racing back inside a few rounds hit the side of the RV, one penetrating the exterior and lodging itself in the wall opposite. Certain she had felt it go whizzing over her head Carrie didn't argue when Carl lunged towards her and told her to stay down, simply glad that he had made it back in without harm.

"Rick!" Abraham bellowed, laying his hand on the horn as he revved the engine. "C'mon!"

* * *

Rick could feel the adrenaline still surging through his veins, his body primed and ready for the fight, but his mind was not. Instead his mind was filled with harrowing dread as slowly he came to the realisation that there was nothing he could do, that it was too late.

This was exactly what Richard had warned him would happened. At the time Rick had been quietly confident, proud of the adversity his group had overcome again and again, but Richard was right. His claim that Alexandria would be ready for the Saviours had been fantasy, and in reality he was woefully underprepared. Denise's death had been the critical blow that brought them to this very moment, leaving Alexandria with one resident preparing for what could be a difficult birth, and another suffering a miscarriage that could take her life. Had they not lost Denise that day they might have been okay, they might have been able to ride this out from the safety of Alexandria…but here they were. Just as Richard warned him, he wasn't ready for this.

Looking down at the dreadlocks he held in his hand, Rick felt sick to his stomach at the thought of what must have happened to the other people in his group. Aside from the fact they had been AWOL all day, more recently he hadn't given much through as to what might have become of Daryl, Glenn, Michonne, Rosita and Carol. They had been a problem for another time, Rick's attention focused on the immediate urgency of Lana's condition, of the critical journey they had to make. Now they were at the forefront of his mind. Something had happened to at least Daryl and Michonne, that much had been confirmed. They could be dead, executed by the Saviours on sight…at the very least they had been captured.

Hearing a rustling he looked up over his shoulder, setting his eyes on Carrie who stood in the hallway. She was strapping a second gun holster to her empty leg, Carl helping her by tightening the straps and then securing it to the chest plate of armour they had somehow managed to fit over the top of her belly. Carrie held no reservations about what was going to happen, and she was preparing for the worst as they all were. Rick was no longer as confident as he was earlier, he knew now that whatever was coming for them might not be avoidable. It was already done, they were already in the trap set for them…and someone was going to die.

As if she could hear his very thoughts Carrie looked up at him right then, holding his gaze for a long moment. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, her face gave almost nothing away…did she blame him for getting them to this situation? Did he blame her for insisting that she come with them? Simply giving him a short nod, one that seemed to tell him that he had her support, she finished fixing the armour to her lower leg and then collected a few more pieces. The Kingdom had given them this armour the day Rick and Carl left, having plenty of it to spare for them. Taking a chest plate only she took it into the rear bedroom, and Rick listened quietly as she helped Lana sit up and put it on.

As he dwelled on his foolishness he glanced at his watch, seeing that it was almost sundown. It wasn't too late to turn back to Alexandria, to get Carrie back to safety. But even as this thought occurred to him yet again, he knew that it was not an option. To turn back now would not only be a death sentence for Lana, it would bring the Saviours along with them. He would be bringing their full forces right to Alexandria's gates, and one way or another they would get inside the walls. That was where Judith was, where Maggie and Herschel were. He couldn't do that, and yet he still wracked his brains for a solution, a compromise that would allow him to take Carrie home. But there was no solution. They were not getting out of this unscathed.

"What's that sound?" Sasha asked, hearing the engine giving a high pitched whine.

"Undercarriage could'a caught a bullet," Eugene answered, intently scouring the map. "It could be transmission, it could be nothing."

Still holding Michonne's deadlock in his hand Rick looked down at his feet, still hearing the sound of rounds flying past him, hitting the road around him. "They were firing at our feet," he said bitterly, seeing the trap more and more. "They blocked the road but they weren't trying to stop us. They want us in this direction."

"Logrun Road was taking us north earlier, but they gotta know we wanted to go north," Sasha mused out loud. "Do they know we're in contact with the Kingdom?"

"I don't see how," he murmured, brushing his hair off his forehead. "They never go into the city, so they can't have seen us there."

"Maybe Richard gave us up," she suggested, completely serious. "He was meant to show two days ago. Maybe he's cut his losses and turned them onto us to divert attention from the Kingdom."

"No," he shook his head. "He needs us too much to do that."

"What if Gregory's the one who gave us up?" Carrie interjected, returning to the main cabin now. Her face was taut with tension, hastily tying her hair back in a pony tail. "What if that's why they're sending us south towards the Hilltop?"

"That's more probable than Richard giving us up," Sasha agreed.

"Given they almost have our jewels in a vice grip, the Hilltop is our most viable solution at this time," Eugene reminded her. "Unless you have an alternate?"

Sasha sighed in defeat as she looked back at the map, her lips parting momentarily as if she was going to say something, but then she shook her head. As the silence wore on Carrie came over to him, brushing her hand against his to get his attention.

"Lana's starting to burn up. She's in a lot of pain."

Her words were whispered quietly, but they hit with the full force of a shout. He glanced down the hall to where he could see Aaron kneeling by the bed, managing a smile to comfort her. A decision had to be made, and as usual it was coming to him. Lana was dying, and he had been the one to implore her to stay in Alexandria…he was her leader, she was his responsibility.

"Sasha?" he asked, needing her thoughts.

She flinched, but answered. "We're down to a third of a tank. We can top off at the next stop, but no refills after that…we can make it to the Hilltop."

"Alright," he agreed, looking to Carrie and then Eugene. "We'll stay on this road for the moment, but we need to find an alternate route there, one that _they_ haven't decided on."

"We're limited by gasoline and unfriendliness. We can go as we are and then get back on track on Mayhew, and from there-"

"Rick!"

The sound of Abraham calling his name made him shiver, his body turning cold even before he looked up at what was ahead. Increasingly frustrated with it all he made his way to the front and leant down to peer through the windscreen, taking in the massive blockade they faced. Each one was proving greater than the last, this one with half a dozen cars and at least fifty men. They were spread out across the road, piled high on top of their vehicles, an intimidating show of force. For a few horrible moments he simply stared at them, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what they were facing.

"Go back," he instructed quietly.

At this, Abraham asked the question none of them wanted to hear. "Where?"

Having no answer to that, Rick simply held his breath and looked at the Saviours, staring them down as they backed up and turned around.

"W-we'll need to get past them," Eugene spluttered, standing up and looking back down the road. "We're going the wrong way."

"What we are, is neck deep in shit creek with our mouths wide open," Abraham declared, flooring the accelerator the moment they were out of the Saviour's sight. "Find a route."

"We have a route. On the other side of them."

"Find something else!" Rick snapped at him.

While Eugene floundered and worried about the gas they had left Rick made his way into the back of the RV. As he went he passed Carrie who stood in the kitchen, arms folded across her belly. She looked frightened, and no doubt that feeling was now reflected on his face too. The situation was becoming more dire, the options taken from them as quickly as they arose…he didn't know what to do. Entering the bedroom he looked down at Lana, his despair only worsening. She lay curled up on her side, her breathing shallow and face shiny with sweat. Her eyes were open but unfocused, her hand laying limply in Aaron's. Despite this she looked up when he entered, focusing on him as she took a deep breath.

"You need to leave me…please."

It had crossed his mind, but there had only ever been one answer. "Not a chance."

* * *

Night was coming quickly, and they had been at this for hours now going back and forth, changing their routes and trying to evade the inevitable. For the last thirty minutes they had travelled in near silence, even Eugene barely making a whisper as he, Sasha and Rick scoured the maps for a new route, for a solution. As if there might be some magic answer they hadn't yet considered he scanned every road, trying to find the right combination to get them out of this. With every mile they drove depleting their gas they stopped, having been at this for hours. The heavy silence remained, even when Abraham vacated the driver's seat to join them at the map.

Everyone was thinking the same thing, but no one was ready to say it except Eugene.

Releasing a heavy breath, Eugene seemed to brace himself. "So they're ahead of us. Probably behind us. But they're not waiting on us, per see…" he said shakily, glancing up at them all. "They're waiting on this rust bucket. And they don't know the moment-to-moment occupancy of said rusk bucket…and the sun sets soon. Unless Jesus himself is willing to take the proverbial wheel, I will."

Understanding, Abraham nodded and turned to Rick, gauging his thoughts. He turned to Carrie, so heavily pregnant she got winded just going up the stairs. She stood in the kitchen with her arms folded, resting atop her belly as she looked at him apprehensively. They both knew what the suggestion was, and what it would mean for her.

"I can make it on foot," she said quietly, sounding certain. "I'll make it as far as I have to."

"You won't have to make it far," Abraham assured her, turning to Rick next. "You take Lana and head south, I'll take Carrie north. I can piggyback her if I have to," he assured them both, looking around to everyone now. "She and I find a place to lay low, and we try again when it's safer."

"And the baby?" Carl questioned, not at all confident. "You could get stuck for days. What if the baby comes?"

"I'll know what to do," Abraham stated, though he seemed a little less certain than they would have liked. He looked at Carrie and held her gaze, for it was her confidence he needed the most. "I will know what to do."

Despite the stony faced expression with which she looked at him, when Carrie nodded her head they knew it was with trust, that if he told her to trust him then she did. She turned to Rick now. "I think this is the best we can do. I'll be okay."

"I'm going with her," Carl spoke up, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Nodding in agreement, Rick took a deep breath and recounted their plans for clarity's sake. "Abraham, Carrie and Carl will go north. Eugene keeps the Saviours busy, and the rest of us take Lana to the Hilltop on foot."

"She just has to hang on a few more hours," Sasha said quietly, glancing up at Aaron.

"I'll tell her the news," he murmured, slipping past them and heading into the back bedroom.

"She's not going to like it," Sasha warned.

"She doesn't have to like it," Rick said firmly, turning away and opening the overhead cupboards.

He quickly set about preparing them for what had to happen next, making sure Carrie and Carl would have everything they needed. She was already wearing her body armour and a heavy coat, so long as there weren't too many Walkers they would be okay. All they had to do was find somewhere safe and spend the night. At worst they could sleep in the dirt for a few hours, kill a couple of Walkers and sleep beneath the corpse for protection, she had done that frequently when she lived out on the road. Meanwhile Eugene would keep the Saviours busy and buy them enough time to get away on foot. Rick was actively trying not to think about what would happen to Eugene, for eventually the Saviours would stop him, would swarm the RV and find the rest of their prey had vanished, taking Lana with them.

"You remember how to use this?" he asked Carrie, passing her an M4 rifle. "It's empty."

"I think so."

Pushing herself back to her feet she looked the weapon over and then checked the chamber for herself, a precaution he himself had taught her to exercise. For a few moments he watched as she reacquainted herself with the type of weapon she hadn't needed to use for months now, and he couldn't help but think back to the early days of knowing her. When they first met she had a complete aversion to using guns, having never properly learned how to handle them. He had pushed her to learn, forcing her out of her comfort zone, and now here she was confidently handling a military grade rifle.

"How many magazines can I take?" she asked, adjusting the stock until it was comfortable against her shoulder.

"As many as you can carry," he assured her, setting four onto the table before putting the rest into a satchel that Carl would take. Wanting her to have everything she could possibly need he passed her a pocket knife too.

"Will you have enough?"

"Plenty," he assured her, passing over two magazines that would fit her hand guns. Though she seemed confident in the plan his anxieties were lingering just below the surface, and he couldn't help but project them onto her. "Are you sure you'll be okay walking at night?"

"Have we got another solution?" Her tone indicated that she knew they didn't. Having made her point she opened her jacket and slipped the pocket knife into the cup of her bra, and into the other side she slipped the smaller magazine too. "I'll be okay," she added, trying to give the reassurance he needed. "I'll be with Abraham and Carl."

"Yes."

"That Saviours don't know where I'm going," she emphasised, taking his hand and squeezing it until he looked at her. "But they know you're going to the Hilltop."

"Yes," he repeated, acknowledging the magnitude of what he could literally be walking into.

He was about to say something else when they were interrupted, Aaron rushing into the bedroom as Lana vomited again. He called for some more water and a cloth, Sasha hastening to side, and during the commotion Carrie took his hand and squeezed it.

"Can we talk outside, please?"

Unable to delay it any longer he nodded, zipping up his jacket and then making his way outside. Abraham and Carl were keeping watch out there, and making the last of the dying light they ventured out into the middle of the road where they could speak in private.

"If something happens and you have to make a call," Carrie began heavily, her voice whisper quiet. "I need you to be selfish."

He didn't need to ask what she meant. Taking a moment to dwell on this he cast his eyes around, trying to find the right words. "I can't leave her. You know I can't do that to her."

"What about me? You need to think about what you'd be doing to me and Carl."

"You're going to be okay."

"And after? Without you?" she questioned, taking a stop closer to him. "I need you to hear this, Rick. You need to be selfish. Please."

"Carrie…"

"I will never ask for this again," she continued, speaking a little louder to make her point. "But tonight you have to do whatever it takes to come back to your family. Put us first…even if it means leaving her."

"It's not going to come to that."

"It might. And if it does…think about the pain you felt for Lori."

Taken aback by the sudden mention of Lori, he found himself without words. He'd never spoken to her about Lori's death, at least nothing more than a superficial conversation. When they started sleeping together it felt strange to bring up his late wife, and then there came a point where the subject was easier to be left unspoken. But now, tonight of all times, Carrie was bringing her up.

"The pain you felt for Lori…don't you do that to me. Don't you subject to that."

He looked down at the road now, feeling his heart beginning to race. He couldn't bear the thought of Carrie suffering the way he had, of her having to face the birth of their first child together without being able to share it with him. The words he had to say were perfectly straightforward, but putting her first might mean abandoning someone who needed him.

"I will put you first," he murmured, clearing his throat and then looking up at her. "I will do what I have to do so that I can come home."

She stepped closer to him now, taking his hand in hers. "Thank you," she softly replied.

Struggling with the words he had just said, and the implications of what he would have to do should the moment come, he pulled her into his arms and held her close. The regret he felt for bringing her was profound, though at the time of the decision there had been no completely right or wrong choice. If she stayed she risked being stranded without a doctor, and if she came she risked encountering the Saviours…the more he thought about it, the more he wished they had taken a little longer to come up with a contingency plan. Why had they only taken the RV? Why hadn't they brought a second car that could make a quick escape?

On the other side of the RV things were in motion, Abraham lecturing Eugene about taking it easy on the gas, while Sasha and Aaron were emerging from inside with the stretcher between them. There Lana lay bundled up beneath some heavy blankets, trying to stay still as she coped with the pain as best she could. By now she wasn't even trying to hide it, and had given up on telling them to leave her. Instead she lay quiet and docile, struggling to keep her eyes open.

Preparing to say goodbye Rick turned to Carrie, knowing that while they had made this decision together it had been a monumental mistake. Their baby might have been in danger before this, but now they were all in danger. If something happened tonight he could never forgive himself. He couldn't lose her, he couldn't lose their baby…he wasn't strong enough to make it through that again. Her request that he put himself first was a heavy burden to bear, but he knew that she was right, that it wasn't too much to ask. Placing his hand on the front of her belly he tried to feel the baby one more time, but shrouded in her heavy coat there was little he could feel.

"Calvin, or Ally," he stated. "They're my picks."

Carrie's brow furrowed. "This isn't goodbye."

"Not Asher, I lost interest in that name. But I still like Calvin and Ally."

"This isn't goodbye."

She spoke these words with absolute conviction, trying to instil in him the same sense of certainty. Holding himself together for her sake he kissed her softly and reached for her hand, trying to find the words to tell her what she meant to him. "I picked you up a year ago…I never thought I'd have this again."

It wasn't much, but she seemed to understand what he was trying to say. She clenched his hand tightly now, trying to hide the way she trembled. "Neither did I," she confessed, her voice catching in her throat. She kissed him properly now, moving his hand beneath her jacket so that he could feel the baby properly. "I love you, so much."

"I love you too."

He lingered there a moment, her hand pressing his into the hard lump he could feel in the side of her belly, but when the baby didn't move he forced himself to let go. Taking one last kiss he stepped away, keeping himself together as he turned to Carl next. He embraced his son, breathing him in and holding him tight…this could very well be the last time.

"If something happens, you will be okay," he murmured. "Just be there for her, okay? Be there for your sister and the baby."

"I will. Love you, Dad."

Returning the words he kissed Carl on the forehead and then released him, straightening his hat out of habit. Everyone was ready to go, but Carrie had stopped to linger with Lana, leaning down and saying something that only they could hear. With Abraham hustling her she finished up and then stepped away, returning to Rick's side once more. As though it were any other day she gave him a light kiss goodbye, lingering for only a moment before she turned away and joined Carl and Abraham. Forced to let her go Rick watched as the three of them departed into the moonlight, the M4 slung over her shoulder, pockets and bra stuffed full of ammunition and weapons. A few moments later they were gone, disappearing into the trees and heading north where they would be safe…they were going to be alright.

He gave Eugene in the RV a wave to send him off, possibly to his death, and never had he thought the day would come that they might owe their lives to Eugene. He started the engine and then slowly took off, but they didn't wait a moment longer. While Aaron and Sasha carried the stretcher they headed in the opposite direction to the others, disappearing into the trees and setting a brisk pace they could maintain for many hours.

* * *

There was no telling how far they had gone. Near blind in the darkness they were struggling to keep track of where they were, depending only on their map and a compass, their flimsy sense of direction reminding him of his Boy Scout days. He and Shane had been trying to figure out how to magnetise a sewing needle and had dropped it, and they had spent more time looking in the dirt than they did actually following the homemade compass. Tonight felt like a repeat of that, for although they hadn't stopped other than to swap places with one another, it felt like they weren't getting anywhere fast.

His arms and shoulders were sore, Lana being a dead weight in the stretcher, though he tried not to think about that word too often. _Dead_. As they walked he thought about Daryl, furious that his absence from home had delayed Lana in seeking their help. They were in some serious trouble now, and even when they did get Lana to the Hilltop it wasn't over. At some stage they had to face the Saviours, they had to get their people back. Michonne, Daryl, Glenn and Rosita…he had to get them back without sacrificing anyone. There had to be a way.

"You ready to swap?" Sasha asked, glancing at her watch.

Rick nodded, he and Aaron slowing to a stop. They made quick work of swapping, Sasha taking his place at the foot of the stretcher while he took Aaron's place at the head. The strain of carrying the foot was different to the head, requiring him to twist his wrist in a different direction. It was a relief when he took his position at the front, and he was confident he could go on like this for another twenty minutes. Then it would be his turn to rest, to be responsible for keeping the Walkers at bay while the others carried the stretchers.

Lana had asked them to let her walk, and they had refused without question, but maybe soon it would be a good idea to try something different. She wasn't that heavy, and two of them could carry her in a two handed cradle. Hell, he could carry her over the shoulder if she could stand the pressure on her abdomen.

The night was completely silent but for the sound of their footsteps and heavy breathing, so when the slightest change came about they were aware of it immediately. The sweet tune of a whistle made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, his heart skipping a beat as he realised they weren't alone out there. Stopping in their tracks they looked around, Rick drawing a shuddering breath as more whistles followed the first, each of them coming in different directions, each of them a different threat. Panicking they looked to one another and then into the trees on either side of the path, catching brief glimpses of movement. It could just be Walkers, they had encountered many of them, but he knew that wasn't the case. This was it. This was the moment they had been dreading for months now.

Knowing it was down to him for a decision Rick looked around some more, setting his sights on a direction to his right in which he could see no movement. "Go!" he shouted, using his head to gesture in that direction. "Go!"

Aaron took the lead and ran ahead of them, but they were now literally running blind, dodging the shadows of trees that loomed up in front of them. They ran as quickly as they could, he and Sasha trying to keep the stretcher and Lana steady as they rushed through the trees and over the unforgiving terrain. In the distance they could still hear the whistling, the Saviours feeling like they were all around them, but still they ran. They encountered no one dead or alive in the direction they ran, and so they kept going, praying that against all odds they could make it, that there was still hope for them.

It had crossed his mind what Carrie asked him to do, to abandon Lana and flee for his own life, but he couldn't do it. Besides, even in that fleeting moment of fight or flight he already knew that it was over, that running wouldn't save them. All along they had been doing exactly what the Saviours wanted them to do. No decision they had made had achieved anything, all they had been doing was postponing the inevitable. Richard had warned him this would happen, that no matter how hard he tried, Alexandria would never be prepared for what was coming, and he was right.

As they ran the whistles followed, the sweet notes taunting them and keeping up with every step they fled. Ahead of them they saw the trees thinning, and as they approached the clearing they ran faster, Rick tightening his grip on the stretcher. Maybe this was it, maybe this was the clearing just outside of the Hilltop. All he needed was to get in there, to get Lana to safety and then face the Saviours. The trees disappeared as they emerged into a clearing, he and Sasha both breaking into a sprint at the same time, but it was no use.

An incredible light blinded them, and as he staggered to a stop Rick cried out in despair. But no one heard him, the volume of the Saviours' melodic whistle growing exponentially until it was like an orchestra, all encompassing and all surrounding. As he opened his eyes he looked around, his feet still trying to carry him in every direction, to find a way out. He staggered a few more paces as he was confronted by the Saviours, by the perfect trap that had been set for them. They had run straight into it, herded to this very spot like cattle to the slaughter.

He couldn't remember the last time he had ever felt such absolute terror, the gut wrenching dread of realising that he was helpless, that there was nothing he could do. This wasn't Terminus. This wasn't the Claimers or the Governor against who he could fight back. Here in this very moment, surrounded by what had to be over a hundred Saviours, he was powerless to do anything. Trying to remember how to breath he kept looking around, searching for something he could do, anything. A gap through which they could escape, a Saviour not paying attention…but instead the only thing his eyes fell upon was the figure kneeling in the shadow of their RV, Eugene.

"Good. You made it," someone declared smugly, their feet crunching over the gravel.

Recognising that voice Rick looked around, panting for breath as Simon approached, one of Negan's highest lieutenants. He looked at them each in satisfaction, taking stock of who was there as his eyes fell on Lana who lay in the stretcher. He smiled now, turning his attention back to Rick.

"Welcome to where you're going. We'll take your weapons," he declared, drawing his gun and then pointing it directly at Lana. "Now."

Shifting his weight between his feet Rick looked at Simon in desperation, not caring if he had to beg. "We can talk about it," he stammered, barely managing to get the words out.

"We're done talking," Simon lectured, staring him down. "Time to listen."

There was nothing he could do, rendered helpless as the Saviours advanced on them and then made quick work divesting them of their weapons. Concentrating on holding it together he looked around and watched as they seized weapons from Aaron and Sasha, someone roughly yanking at the strap of the AR15 around his shoulder. In second they were disarmed, his prized Colt vanishing from his holster as they patted down his pockets, taking a knife and the hatchet before backing away.

"Okay. Let's get her down, and get you all on your knees. Lots to cover."

The Saviours advanced on them again, Rick automatically taking a step back as if there was anything he could do to protect Lana.

"Hold up," Sasha interjected, her voice wavering. "We got it."

"Sure," Simon conceded, waving his men back. "Sure."

With Aaron holding the stretcher steady, Rick and Sasha slowly lowered it to the ground, unable to do anything other than offer their full cooperation. He quickly turned to face Lana who was already trying to find her feet, but he couldn't look her in the eye. Instead he reached down and apologetically pulled the blanket off, taking her by the upper arm and helping her up. There was a brief moment in which all four of them were together, surrounding her there, but no one said a thing. They were all speechless, having no words of comfort they could give one another.

Lana's features were grey and pallid now, the cold sweat having plastered her hair down against her face and neck, but with his help she managed to stagger over to where Simon directed them. With every step he heard the breath rattling in her throat, giving a low cry of pain as she slowly sank down to her knees, one hand clutching her abdomen while the other held herself upright. Leaving her there a moment Rick turned and looked around, feeling terror rising in his throat like bile as they brought Eugene over and shoved him to his knees also. He was bloodied and beaten, cowering and trembling in much the same way Rick wanted to.

"I'm gonna need you on your knees."

At this reminder Rick felt his body turning numb, his knees beginning to feel weak. Simon stood right there in front of him, telling him to get on his knees, to submit to what was happening. He looked to Sasha and Aaron on his left, waiting for their solution, for them to know what to do, but like him they had nothing. It was to him they were looking to, him they were seeking an answer from, but to his despair there was only one answer he could give them.

As he slowly sank down to one knee, the only comfort he could find was that Carrie and Carl weren't there. Whatever happened to them that night, whatever happened to him…they wouldn't have to see it. Sweat was dripping down his forehead, interspersed with the tears of despair that sprung up in his eyes, because in that moment it suddenly hit home that this could be it for him. His time might be up. He might never kiss his kids goodnight again, he might never meet his and Carrie's baby. If he were to die he longed to see them one last time, to feel their comfort in his last moments.

In front of him Simon had crouched down, clicking his fingers to get his attention. When Rick looked up he was met with a smirk. "Those two cars over there," he said, gesturing to Rick's left, and then to his right. "And that car over there? You're gonna want to pay attention to them, because we've got something just for you."

With that, Simon reached over and patted him on the shoulder, chuckling under his breath as he got to his feet and walked away. He called out to someone named Paula, pointing to the two cars on Rick's left and telling her to get started, and then a flurry of activity followed. Filled with a dreadful sense of despair he watched on as the Saviours converged on the two vehicles, revealing to him the true horrors of what they had in store for them.

* * *

A/N What's in the car!?

Please please please leave a review! I have waited so long to get to these chapters, I am desperate for your reviews! Thanks for reading!


	42. Chapter 42

Their breath was a cloud of fog in front of their faces, the chill in the air tickling Carrie's throat and making her want to cough, but she resisted the urge. Instead she raised her water bottle and took a small sip, wetting her mouth and soothing her throat. She, Carl and Abraham were keeping a good pace, walking just fast enough that momentum aided them, but not so fast that she was losing her breath. Were it not for the present situation the moonlight stroll would have been enjoyable, for now the silence was peaceful rather than the fraught tension inside the RV.

At this Carrie glanced over her shoulder, looking back the way they had come. It had been over an hour since they separated from the others, and still she kept glancing over her shoulder not to keep watch of their surroundings, but just in case there was some sign from their group. She couldn't tell what she was expecting to see or hear, and she supposed in this case that no seeing no sign of them was a good thing. Tonight, silence was golden.

Trying not to wring her hands in anxiety, she thought about the moment she had said goodbye to Lana, how difficult the moment had been. She was in bad shape, too weak to even protest the fact she was being carried on a stretcher, that the group were making a seven mile journey to the Hilltop on foot for her. Perhaps in the last hour before they separated Lana had come to realise just how dire her situation was, and she'd stopped asking them to abandon her. If they didn't at least try to get her to a doctor, she was going to die. No amount of grit and determination was going to change that outcome on her own.

Flanking either side of her were Abraham and Carl, two shadowy figures who left her side only to ensure that any Walker they encountered didn't have the chance to get too close. Every time they stepped away they returned equally as fast, willing to protect her at any cost, to protect the baby. Carl carried a bag of their spare ammunition, water and a blanket, while Abraham carried her bright yellow baby bag, stuffed to the brim with diapers, wipes, baby clothes, muslin wraps, a teddy bear - everything she had crammed in there. It had been sitting in her room for weeks now, ready to be taken at a moment's notice should she had to go to the Infirmary or the Kingdom…but never had she expected to have it on a night like this.

Thankfully they wouldn't be out in the open all night, for if they didn't find somewhere safe in the next few hours they would lay low in the woods and wait for dawn, utilising their skills and experience to make it through with minimal fuss. Spending the night in the woods wasn't as terrible as it sounded, for tonight would only be one of many that she had already spent sleeping in the dirt. They would find some dense trees or shrubbery, kill a couple of Walkers, and then lay down beneath them and rest. The dead would hide them from the others, and so long as they could stand the stench and embrace of a corpse they would be safe for as long as they needed to be.

As they walked she looked at Carl on her left, admiring how rapidly he had matured over the last few months. He was handling the dangerous situation remarkably well, and he hadn't wasted breath berating her decision to come with them, even though he would have been right to do so. But instead of doing that he had just taken it in his stride, trusting in those around him and following their lead. He was playing his part, just as Carrie was in allowing them to take her to safety. There was no doubt that her mere presence was a risk to them all, that it made travelling slower and more treacherous. Doing her part she kept up the pace, not breathing a word of complaint when her hips and back ached or when she longed to rest.

Through the darkness a flicker of shadows appeared on the ground before them, and though the change was subtle they noticed straight away. Broken from their thoughts they acted immediately, Carrie following as Carl took her by the hand and led her into the woods, Abraham scurrying behind them. Her heart thudded in her chest as she looked back the way they had come, watching the warm glow of headlights appearing on the trees, the light the source of their shadow. In a few seconds they were in the tree line, going a few yards deep before Abraham clicked his fingers to get their attention. Following his lead they sought cover behind some low shrubbery, and with a few seconds up their sleeve Carrie took care to lower herself to the ground carefully.

"You okay?" Carl whispered.

"Yeah."

The three of them huddled together and settled in to wait, Carrie not wasting her breath in protest when Abraham took off his jacket and tossed it over her. Now that they had stopped moving the chill began to set in again, her exposed ankles bearing the worst of it. Despite the discomfort not one of them moved an inch, close enough they could feel one another's breath on their faces. As the source of the light grew brighter and the sound of an approaching engine made itself known, Carrie rested her hands against her belly. The baby was still right now, perhaps rocked to sleep by her long walk. It was a nice change to the constant squirming and uncomfortable nudges she felt all night long, yet she wished it would move for her, that it would remind her it was okay.

"The engine needs a tune up," Abraham commented, listening as the vehicle drew closer. "It's not one of ours."

At this Carrie's heart sank, and not just for the proximity of the Saviours. As they waited for the car to pass a part of her had hoped that maybe it was Carol, that the lone car travelling through the night was her heading home to Alexandria. Not quite thirty seconds later the car passed them, the headlights passing over their hiding place as it flew past and went on, leaving clouds of dust in its wake. As she watched it go she took notice that the brake lights were smashed out, but that was about all she could see of it.

"Fan belt, right?" Carl added, referring to the high pitched whine the car's engine had been making.

"Sounds like it."

"Definitely not one of ours," he agreed, still watching it go. "We just replaced all of ours."

As quickly as it had come the car was gone, leaving behind nothing but the taste of dust in the air, and so Carrie was glad when Abraham instructed them to stay hidden a little longer.

"You have to pee, don't you."

Carrie looked around at Carl, her cheeks reddening. "How the hell do you know?"

He grinned, his features just visible through the moonlight. "I know that look," he teased in a whisper. "That's your _I have to pee again_ look."

Beside her Abraham was laughing under his breath. "You wanna get yourself grounded?" she threatened, only half joking.

"I'd like to see you try."

"Your dad would side with me," she retorted, enjoying the verbal sparring. "If I said the earth was flat, your dad would side with me."

"Of course he would," Abraham whispered. "The man knows who butters his muffin."

While Carrie rolled her eyes Carl tentatively enquired as to what that meant, and it seemed to take all is self control to keep his laughter quiet. Though she was the butt of the joke Carrie didn't mind, glad that even tonight they could find something to laugh about. It was a nice reprieve from what had been an all round awful day.

"We'll be alright now," Abraham murmured as he slowly rose, extending his hand to help Carrie to her feet. "You need to use the facilities?"

Carrie sighed, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she looked around. Grateful that it was dark she nodded her head before looking around, scoping out the nearest tree that she would have to use. Backing up against it she let Abraham and Carl look around, and she waited until they gave her the all clear before taking a deep breath and going for it. She hadn't needed to do this for almost a year now, since her arrival in Alexandria, and certainly not when she was heavily pregnant. Trying to take her time she lowered her leggings and squatted, using the tree behind her to support herself, but to her frustration relief was not easily found.

"Stage fright?" Carl whispered to her.

Biting her tongue she tried to relax, though that was easier said than done when she literally had her pants down in the middle of no where, Abraham and Carl both barely a foot away from her. It made no difference that it was dark and their backs were turned…Christ she had to go.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I went to a goat rodeo?"

As Abraham started talking, his voice little more than a lower murmur, Carrie finally managed to go, trying her best to not pee all over her shoes. There was no grace in this, none at all, but she would have to get used to it. They were stranded out here without any idea how long for, and she would have to pee again soon enough. Finishing up she slowly managed to get back to her feet, her knees and lower back aching in protest.

"This way now," Abraham murmured, his hand on the centre of her back as he guided her through the darkness.

With Carl leading the way and taking down the next Walker they encountered, she took care with where she walked, finding it difficult to navigate her way through the woods. At least out on the road the ground was visible and without obstacle, but it was entirely different in the woods, and so she walked with her hands ready to break her fall should she trip up. While they walked to their freedom she thought of Eugene, wondering how many Saviour blockades he had faced alone, wondering how long it would be until one stop was his last. How long would the Saviours keep letting their prey run around in circles before making their move? Given they'd been at this since late afternoon their patience was sure to be wearing thin by now. Was he okay?

Rick on the other hand, his group could have made it five miles by now. Although they were walking through the darkness carrying Lana on a stretcher, they wouldn't be wasting their time by taking a leisurely stroll. They would be walking as fast as their feet could carry them, every minute and second counting against them. It was a relief that they didn't allow themselves to drag out their farewell, knowing that if she had weakened she might not have let him go, she might have asked him to stay with her. Hell, it wasn't entirely unselfish of her to want their family to stay together in a situation like this.

Calvin or Ally. They were his picks for the baby's name, but she tried not to entertain the idea that he might not be with her to select the name for their child. The birth was likely weeks away…they'd be well past this by then.

Carrying his machete by his side, Carl fell into step on her left, walking close enough that their arms brushed against one another. "Hey," he began, his voice a low whisper. "For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing."

At this Carrie was taken aback. She and Carl had a good relationship these days, but this type of comment was rare. "The right thing with what?"

"Coming with us to the Kingdom. I know you're worried about the baby."

Carrie sighed, his words of support and understanding meaning a lot to her. "Thanks. It hasn't worked out so well…but thanks."

"What happened to my mom…I don't want that to happen to you," he said candidly. "We're going to get you to the Kingdom. The baby will be okay."

"I know," she assured him, putting her hand on his shoulder. "We'll all be okay."

"We can do anything, 'cause we'll do anything we need to do," he continued, sounding like he was talking both to her and himself. "We have, and we will."

"Yes."

"What happened to Denise…I'm not gonna let anybody die like that again."

At this Carrie paused, wondering what she should say. Carl's words were not without impact, and were a harsh reminder of not only what they were up against, but the horror he too had experienced. He'd been there that day Denise was killed, he'd been the one the drive the military truck over the Saviours, responsible for the majority of deaths. He was proud of what he had done, proud that he had been able to save his people from almost certain execution, and she wholeheartedly supported what he had done. Nevertheless, she hoped that some way or another, Carl could be kept out of the impending war, that there was a way to keep him safe from it all. Knowing him the way she did, he wouldn't be sidelined without a fight.

"Carl," she began, trying to find the right words to articulate her thoughts.

"What?"

As she parted her lips to continue Carrie faltered, noting a change in Abraham's body language as he walked on her other side. He tensed, the melodic sound of a bird call echoing through the quiet night, but when it was joined by a second call Carrie's heart sank. The three of them stopped in their tracks, her body turning cold as a terrible sense of dread came over her. For a moment they all stood frozen in the dark, taunted by what she quickly realised was a person whistling at them. She looked all around them, unconsciously reaching out towards Carl to bring him closer.

"This way," Abraham murmured, taking her by the upper arm and pulling her back the way they had come. "I got you, come on."

Sticking close together they backtracked on their route and began returning to the road, Carrie's free hand reaching underneath her belly to support it when they broke into a jog. Trusting him without question she followed Abraham's lead as they went running through the dark, but all too quickly more whistles joined the first, increasing in volume as they repeated the two notes. Already short of breath Carrie looked over her shoulder for Carl, her heart skipping a beat when she found no one behind her but moving shadows all around.

A few sporadic shots of gunfire came from their right, the muzzle flash streaking through the darkness and drawing her eye, but she couldn't even consider calling out to Carl. Without warning Abraham was wrenching her to a stop, gripping her arm as he looked around hurriedly, he too panting for breath. Choosing another direction he wrenched her that way next, but no sooner than they had taken three steps did he turn and suddenly engulf her in his arms.

"Abr-"

"Don't shoot!" he shouted, holding her tightly to his chest. "Don't shoot!"

As he shouted these words she found herself blinded by a sudden burst of light, forcing her to submit when Abraham pushed her down to her knees. He was holding her close, trying to shield her from the dozen or so figures that had appeared around them, shouting indiscriminately.

"Hands in the air!" they shouted, surrounding them and moving in. "Let her go, put your hands in the air."

"Don't shoot," Abraham said for a third time, slowly releasing her and raising his hands.

"Back up," the man shouted again.

Rendered silent in terror Carrie was helpless as Abraham began backing away from her, leaving her kneeling in the dirt with her hands across her belly. She gave a low cry of despair when she looked around, her heart pounding in the base of her throat as she came face to face with what had to be Negan's Saviours. They were shouting at her too, but she felt paralysed as she looked around for Carl, wondering how they had lost him so quickly. Why didn't she grab him? She should have taken him by the arm the way Abraham had taken her, she should have kept him close.

"Carrie," Abraham was calling to her, trying to get her attention. "Put your hands up."

She looked over to where he kneeled, and when he repeated the words she slowly lifted her hands from her belly and raised them. Halfway in the air she stopped, instinct telling her to keep her hands close to her baby, that it was the only way she could protect it, but it seemed to be enough to satisfy the Saviours. A few of them had lowered their weapons now, coming closer to roughly pat them down and divest them of their weapons.

"I'm pregnant," she managed to say, her voice louder and steadier than she felt.

"Oh fuckin' hell," one of them cursed in exasperation. "You serious?"

"Yes."

"Great," the guy cursed again, staring down at her in disdain. "Fucking great," he snarled as he reached down and seized her by the upper arm. "Get up."

Looking to Abraham she followed his lead, grateful for his apparent level headedness. As he too was pulled to his feet he gave her a short nod, the simple gesture telling her to do as she was told, not that she could resist even if she wanted to. Guided by flashlights they were escorted through the woods, a Saviour grasping each of her arms while simultaneously keeping their distance as though pregnancy was an affliction that could be contagious. Carrie trembled with every step, taking short breaths as she tried to calm herself down. Desperate to know where he was it took everything she had to not call out Carl's name, for there was the slimmest possibility that he had gotten away. Was it him firing a gun just before? Or was it them firing on him? Was he laying dead on the forrest floor somewhere?

They walked for barely a minute before they emerged back onto the road, the vicinity brightly lit by the headlights of three vehicles parked lengthways across the road. She gave a low cry of despair upon seeing Carl there at gun point, his face cast is shadows as he turned to see them coming, and he too gave a low cry of despair.

"Don't hurt her," he said loudly, his voice never wavering. "She's pregnant."

The Saviours seemed to ignore him, forcing him to repeat himself as she and Abraham were brought to a stop on the road. All three of them were separated roughly five feet apart, and under the intense scrutiny of all the Saviours they were patted down again. Holding her breath as she felt the hands of strangers all over her body Carrie continued looking around, waiting for something to happen, for someone to help them. This was bad, this was really fucking bad…

"Did he say she's pregnant?"

Hearing this Carrie looked around, her heart hammering against her ribs as she allowed the man to roughly pat down her hips and lower back, checking the pockets of her coat. Blinded by the lights of the truck she could just make out the silhouette of someone stepping out of the cabin, the door slamming as they marched over. It was a woman with shoulder length red hair, but her gender did nothing to disqualify her from the Saviours. She was dressed just like them, armed to the teeth and with an impatient expression to match.

"The fuck did I just ask?" she questioned angrily, looking around at them all.

The way the other Saviours hastened to answer her seemed to indicate that she was the one in charge, that her authority carried some kind of weight. Hearing the affirmative answer she made her way over to Carrie, looking thoroughly annoyed with the newfound information. With a click of her fingers the man patting Carrie down stepped away, allowing her to come forward and take over.

"Put your hands on your head."

Trying not to look as scared as she felt, Carrie took a deep breath and then brought her hands to her head, interlocking her fingers as she waited. Without any gentleness the woman reached over and lifted the bottom of her coat, yanking it up and exposing her belly. She roughly placed her hands onto her skin and pressed as if making sure it was real, inspecting her before touching her fingertips to the faint red stretch marks. Next she unzipped Carrie's jacket and pushed it from her shoulders, and without concern for the way she shivered in the cold February night instructed her to put her hands back on her head.

"Boy or girl?" Unclipping Carrie's armoured chest plate she tossed it to someone standing nearby, briefly looking her in the eye before opening the buttons on Rick's shirt. "Boy or girl?" she asked again, annoyed with her lack of response.

Standing there with her shirt open and only a thin tank top underneath, Carrie shuddered as she felt the eyes of every man looking at her. "I don't know."

"And your due date?"

"A…a couple of weeks."

The woman was running her hands over her belly again, reaching around to her hips and then up her sides, and Carrie braced herself for the inevitable discovery. When she brought her hands across the top of her belly and beneath her breasts she noticed what was hidden, and made no apology when she shoved her hands straight down the front of her shirt. Still she felt everyone looking at her, and it took all she had not to stop this woman as she slipped her hand into the cup of her bra and removed the pocket knife hidden there. Being thorough she did the same on the other side of her bra, removing a spare magazine.

Finished now, the woman surprised her by taking a moment to pull the front of her shirt back across her chest, fastening two of the buttons before picking up her jacket from the ground and shoving it at her to put back on. Done with her, she turned back to the others.

"Did you check them properly?" she asked, gesturing to Carl and Abraham. Though the Saviours nodded affirmatively she didn't seem to have much faith. "Check them again. Properly."

Repeating the earlier process the Saviours came forward and patted down Abraham and Carl yet again, their inspection more thorough now. To her relief they left Carrie alone now, allowing her to shakily put her jacket back on and close the zip, the item of clothing not only keeping her warm but serving as a protective barrier of sorts. While she waited she looked at Abraham, wondering what on earth they were going to do, how they could possibly get themselves out of this.

"Good," the red headed woman said in satisfaction, looking at the three hostages. "Load 'em up and let's go."

In a surge of panic Carrie started towards Carl, not wanting them to get separated, but the Saviours didn't even let her get close. Her heart faltered when someone seized her hands and pulled them behind her back, and now her efforts to remain stoic crumbled. Without her hands she had lost her ability to protect herself, to put them over her belly in attempt to protect her baby. The feeling of a long plastic loop fitted around her wrists and pulled tight made her eyes water, her stomach turning with the added sense of vulnerability. The slick click of the plastic being fastened told her it was a cable tie, the type Granger's group had used on her so long ago to subdue her, not that she ever actually fought them until that final day. She looked over her shoulder at the man there, her voice wavering as she asked him to bind her hands in front instead, but he paid her no attention. Instead he tightened it again, her shoulders straining as she was forced to press her inner wrists together to find some slack.

There was laughter from her left now, the Saviour's teasing Carl as they knocked off his hat before shoving a hood over his head, and they laughed again as they put the hat back on. His hands were bound behind his back too, and he went cooperatively when they gave him a short shove and started escorting him towards one of the cars.

"Carl!" she called out, not knowing what she was going to say. "Carl, ju-"

Her words of meaningless reassurance were cut short, a black hood being placed over her head too. It blinded her, the inability to see what was happening to herself and the others only making her feel more vulnerable. She waited and tried to brace herself for something to happen, already imagining all the terrible things they could do to her that she wouldn't see coming.

When someone seized her by the elbow she was so taken aback that she initially resisted, stumbling a few paces and forcing them to yank her by the arm to keep her steady. Her hands are throbbing, shoulders aching from the unnatural angle at which she had to hold them, but she tried to ignore this any pay attention. She couldn't hear Carl or Abraham, though could hear the Saviours talking to them, someone helping Carl into the backseat of a car. Carrie and her escort walked ten paces in the opposite direction before slowing down, and when they spoke she realised it was the red headed woman.

"Turn around," she said shortly, using her elbow to guide her. "Now back up."

Doing as she was told she took a few tentative steps backward, and when she felt something hard behind her knee she was instructed to sit. Devoid of her sight she could only hazard a guess that she was climbing into the open trunk of a car, the woman placing her hand on the crown of her head and pushing down to ensure she didn't hurt herself on the way inside. As she shuffled back she became aware of another presence there, feeling the brush of something against her side.

"Abe?"

"It's me," he confirmed, moving closer so that she could feel the touch of his body. "You're alright. They're not going to hurt you."

At this she didn't say anything, for she wasn't so sure of how much she trusted in Lana's observation that the Saviours wouldn't hurt a pregnant woman. Instead she took a deep breath, feeling hot and stuffy with her head inside the hood. Crammed into an open trunk next to Abraham with her hands bound and head covered she couldn't help but feel a sense of claustrophobia, the sense growing when someone pushed her feet back before slamming the trunk shut. The Saviours were calling out to one another now, car doors opening and closing, the vehicle rocking as people got in and started the engine.

"Did you see where they put Carl?" Abraham whispered.

"I…I think he's in the other car."

Without delay their journey began, and for a few minutes Carrie and Abraham sat in silence, waiting to hear the Saviours talking, to hear them using the radio. Any information they could gleam right now would be invaluable to them, it could mean the difference between disadvantage and advantage, capture and escape. But nothing was said, nothing shared over the radios to anyone else in the vicinity. They drove in absolute silence, and even though she couldn't see she knew they were travelling at a significant speed. Taking advantage of the road noise Abraham subtly shuffled closer, pressing his side against hers as he leant close.

"You need to know what's going to happen," he whispered to her, his tone serious and straight forward. "They're going to use us as hostages, and it won't take them long to figure out who is the most important. They'll either kill me to send a message, or let me go first. Then they'll let Carl go, but you will probably be last. Do you understand?"

She couldn't speak, she couldn't summon enough breath to articulate words of any kind. Abraham's words were not meant to be comforting or reassuring, they were meant to help prepare her for what was going to happen to them.

"They won't hurt you," he added. "They'll keep you for as long as they can, but they won't hurt you. You're just going to have to wait this out."

"Okay," she managed, nodding her head and knowing he could feel it.

Now that she was sitting still the baby started to move, the left hand side of her belly moving as it stretched its arms before settling again. It was this motion that wrenched a sob from her throat, one she tried hard to hide lest the Saviours hear her, but there was nothing she could do. She started to cry, tears welling up in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks, dampening the hood over her head. How long had it been since she found herself like this, completely powerless and at someone else's mercy, with so much to lose? For so long she had managed to avoid this degree of danger, she had found refuge the day Rick nearly ran her over as he drove to Georgia. That day her life had changed, she stopped surviving and started living again. They had built a life for themselves…was she about to lose it all?

Hearing her distress, Abraham shuffled around beside her, contorting his long limbs in the confined space as best he could. He moved to sit with his back against her side, and it was then she felt his hands fumbling around to find hers. His larger hand held hers, their fingers entwined awkwardly, but it was the only physical reassurance they could offer one another.

"No matter what happens here, we're going to rip them all a new asshole," he murmured to her now, his usual charm returning to his voice. "Each and every o-"

His words were cut off with a grunt of discomfort, and even though she couldn't see it she was certain one of the Saviours had reached back and hit him. Her assumption was quickly confirmed when they told them to shut up, and knowing when to toe the line Abraham fell silent. Nevertheless he didn't release her hand, the two of them crammed into the open trunk together for the foreseeable future.

A short while later the car slowed to a stop, snippets of conversation breaking out as the Saviours opened their doors and exited the car. Paying attention to everything she could hear and every rock of the car that she could feel, Carrie was almost certain that the Saviours had all stepped out, though she didn't dare strike up conversation with Abraham. Instead she focused on trying to learn more, taking note that even through the thick hood over her head she could see brightness, she could hear murmurs of conversation outside the car. It was difficult to gauge the atmosphere, and she waited apprehensively to see if this was just a brief stop before continuing on, or if they had reached their final destination. From Lana's information they knew that the Sanctuary was quite further north, but perhaps there was an outpost in this area.

"Hyperventilate," Abraham nudged her. "Throw a few tears in too."

His instructions didn't take much effort to carry out, and it wasn't necessary to question the reason for his request. With a deep breath she started to pant heavily, putting her head back and hoping the Saviours would see her chest moving up and down, and from there the tears came easily. As she started Abraham thrust his boot against the trunk, kicking it a couple of times.

"Open up," he shouted. When his request was met with silence he repeated his kicks a couple more times. "I said open fucking sesame! It's hot in here."

"Shut up, Ginger Spice."

At this Abraham gave a low chuckle, not at all deterred. "She's hyperventilating! You gonna be the assholes that let a pregnant lady pass out? She needs water." There was a long pause but still nothing happened. "Ginger Spice can keep this up all night."

Adding in her own dramatic display she started moving around aimlessly, not that there was a lot she could really do. "Please…please!" she cried out, her performance only half faked. She kicked at the door too, the physical act feeling good. "I can't breathe. Please…my baby!"

"Oh, for fucks sake," someone cursed. "Shut them up. Get her some fucking water."

Beside her Abraham risked a chuckle. " _My baby_ ," he muttered, shaking his head. "Nice touch."

"Thanks," she panted, still making sure to breathe as if she really was hyperventilating.

Just as she said this the trunk opened, the stagnant air inside the car immediately filling with fresh air from outside, and suddenly she realised just how hot she actually was.

"Watch yourself Ginger," the Saviour warned. "You too. Make one move, and you're both dead."

"Got it," she panted, already shuffling herself towards the edge of the trunk.

She felt a hand on top of her head, a slight pressure reminding her to duck it low as she came to sit on the edge. It was there she found some relief from the cramped conditions, her legs dangling over the edge while the cool air hit her lower calves. The Saviours bundled up the bottom of her hood and pulled it up, but to her frustration he brought it only as far as her nose. Nevertheless that in itself was a relief, the air cooling her cheeks and clearing her head.

"Breathe all the way out," they said to her, sounding absurdly compassionate. "Go on, all the way out. Now in through your nose, slowly."

Going through the motions she continued her performance a little longer, still hoping he would remove the hood all together. "Please," she finally started, having slowed her breathing. "Take it off, please. It's so hot."

Though some considerations were made, they did not remove the hood. Instead they opened the front of her jacket a few inches and pulled the collar back, a second set of hands joining them now. They bundled up her hair and pulled it off her neck, and a moment later the rim of a bottle was brought to her lips. A mouthful at a time they helped quench her thirst, and going to every effort she slowly started tipping her head back to assist. Nevertheless it made no difference to what she could see, for aside from a general sense of bright light she could see nothing, the Saviours allowing no gap in her vision.

"My son," she began, her tone pleading. "Where is he?"

"The kid? He's here."

"Can I see him, please? Just let me talk to him, make sure he's okay."

"He's fine," the voice said, bringing the water bottle back to her lips.

"I-I need to tell him that I'm okay. He'll be worried about me. Please, ju-"

"He should be worried about you," came another voice, the woman again. "Now shut up and get back in."

There was no arguing to be had, and with that instruction the Saviours allowed her one last sip of water before releasing her hair and the hood. Taking everything she could she strained her ears, hearing that woman murmuring something that sound like _there're almost here_ before she was being shuffled back into the trunk of the car. Frustrated to be back in the exact same position, though feeling significantly better after some water, Carrie settled in for an indefinite wait.

"What did you see?" Abraham asked when the trunk was slammed shut.

"Nothing. They didn't take the hood off."

"What else?" he pressed. "What did you hear? Smell?"

She faltered, wishing she had paid better attention to those senses. With a deep breath of stuffy air she tried to think, tried to pinpoint the fleeting memory that had struck her, something from the old days that she couldn't quite recall. "It was…" she began, wondering if the answer would come as she started talking. "There were more people out there. A lot of them."

"How do you know?"

"I could just…I could hear them, feel them," she explained, the memory returning to her. In the old days she had delivered key note speeches, spoken at conferences, delivered creative pitches…even when no one said a word a room full of silent people could be heard, their energy tangible. That's what she had recognised out there, the presence of other people…more than who had stopped them in the middle of the woods. "Do you really think they're going to hold us hostage? That they want to negotiate?"

He was silent for a long moment, and his voice was heavy with dread when he answered. "I think a hostage negotiation is our best case scenario."

To this she gave no response, not knowing what to say. It had of course occurred to them what was going to happen, but she tried not to think about it, much preferring Abraham's scenario. They knew what the Saviours had done to the Hilltop residents during their first encounter, what they had done to the Kingdom. They were all taken by surprise and one of them killed, brutally beaten to death as a sick way of warning them to adhere to the new arrangement being imposed on them. The events of that day sure indicated they were headed down that same path.

There wasn't much time for her to dwell on this, for soon she became aware of a subtle change. The bright light that she could see through her hood faded without warning, plunging them all into complete darkness. He too noticing the change Abraham sat up a little straighter, waiting for the next change, for something else to happen. Instead they were met with a long stretch of silence, and surely ten minutes passed without incident. Not a sound was heard but for their own breathing, the silence such to the extent that she started to wonder if they had been abandoned.

"You hear that?" Abraham asked. "That whistle from before?"

Her attention captured, Carrie raised her head and strained her ears, and slowly she began to hear the melodic tune. The Saviours had been whistling it to them in the woods, taunting them with the playful tune meant to inspire dread in their prey. She didn't mind admitting that it did indeed inspire a sense of dread, and the sound of it now made her heart rate speed up. A low sob strained at her throat, for even though she couldn't see she knew what was happening out there. It was their people, it was someone they knew out there, someone on foot. She had no comprehension of their present location, it wasn't a stretch to think that the Saviours had driven them ahead of Rick and the others, that they were here to intercept them on their way to the Hilltop.

Beside her Abraham was trying to offer words of comfort, to reassure her and help keep her emotions under control, but it quickly became a lost cause. Without warning the bright light returned, infiltrating the thick hoods while simultaneously the melodic whistle increased in volume as if the Saviour was right next to her. She swore under her breath, whimpering…was this really happening?

As quickly as it started the whistles died down again, and then silence resumed. Waiting with bated breath Carrie tried to prepare herself for the sound of gunshots, for the sound of anything happening, but nothing came. The light remained on as the wait continued, and then almost a minute later the door to the trunk opened.

"Put the kid over there," someone instructed, their voice one of authority. "In that gap."

"Carl?" Carrie called out weakly, her heart leaping at the reference to him.

She was stopped from calling out again, the car rocking as Abraham was seized by the feet and dragged to the edge of the trunk. He wasn't fighting them, yet there was a thud and scuffle as he landed on the ground, and so Carrie pulled her feet right back to her body. She didn't know what was happening, but suddenly she was struck by terror and all she knew was that she didn't want to get out of the trunk, that she wanted to stay there all night. At this she felt something seize her feet and pull them out straight, and they held them there even as she tried to pull them back.

"Bitch, don't make me drag you out by your hair, because I will."

She paused for a moment, waiting to hear Abraham tell her what to do, wanting to follow his instruction and no one else's, but of course he wasn't quite in that position. Knowing full well that the Saviours would follow through on the threat to drag her out she started to move. It was hard to shuffle over, but she made it to the edge and allowed the person there to guide her to her feet, and the moment they hit the ground she felt her knees buckle. Expecting this they caught her by the elbow, through the motion on her strained shoulders was more painful than falling to her knees. Her whole body was trembling as she stood there as instructed, feeling something cold and hard pressed against her inner wrist. Before she could enquire as to what it was she felt the plastic cable tie release, her hands throbbing with the sudden surge of renewed circulation. Her shoulders ached terribly as she brought her hands around to her front, and then in a sudden flourish the hood was yanked off her head.

Stars danced in front of her eyes as they adjusted to the brightness, the disorientation making her cringe and then stumble as she was taken by the elbow and yanked forward. Blinking, she looked around and tried to orient herself, but what she found made her stop in her tracks. In that dreadful moment everything stopped, a howl of despair growing inside of her as she recognised the faces of the people lined up on their knees. Eugene, blooded and crying, was to her right, and beside him was Carl, a Saviour roughly shoving his hat back onto his head now that the hood had been removed. Beside him was Aaron and Sasha, and then further around was Rick and Lana, forced down to their knees and completely helpless.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at them, watching the way Lana was hunched over with her hands crossed over her stomach, trying to relieve her pain. She could barely raise her head, and when she glanced up and saw Carrie there she had only enough strength to hold her gaze for a moment. But it was to Rick that Carrie paid the most attention, unable to bear the look of defeat in his eyes, the raw devastation. His face glistened with sweat or tears, she couldn't tell which, his shoulders slumped as he looked at her.

"I'm sorry," she managed to say, her throat so tight she almost couldn't get the words out. The tears came now, spilling from her eyes and streaming down her face, and she had to look away. "I'm sorry, Rick."

The Saviour escorting her nudged her back into motion, being exceptionally more gentle with her than the others had been with Abraham. He brought her over to beside Abraham and let her go, and for a moment she stood there frozen before she managed to move on her own. Slowly she turned around and awkwardly lowered herself to her knees, hand resting on her belly as she felt the baby moving again. Could it tell that something was wrong? Could it hear the way her heart was racing harder than it ever had before? As she settled back on her heels she looked around, taking in their RV in front of them and the crowd of Saviours behind them. They were all heavily armed, standing in a wide circle around them, some of them smirking as they enjoyed the spectacle, some of them looking bored.

Almost unable to bear the look in his eyes Carrie forced herself to look back at Rick ], wishing she could say something to comfort him. Was it really only that morning that they were laying in bed with one another, making love in the shower? In that moment she knew what must be going through his head, that the entire life they had built together was at stake, that everything they had fought to create as a family was never going to be the same. Someone was going to die tonight…would it be them?

"Dwight!" one of the Saviours called out, the balding man with a thick moustache who seemed to be in charge. Was he Negan? Was he the leader?

"Yeah?"

"Chop chop."

Watching the man who had come forward, Carrie's heart sank even further when she noted the extensive burns on his face, the crossbow he carried and the leather vest he wore. Dwight, the Saviour at the centre of Daryl's one man mission, who he had set out to kill…he had Daryl's things. When he opened the rear doors of a nearby van Carrie wasn't surprised to see who was inside, but that didn't make the sight of Daryl any easier to bear.

"Come on," Dwight said, seizing Daryl by the arm and dragging him out. "You got people to meet."

Others advanced on the van too, and from behind Daryl emerged Michonne, Rosita and Glenn, each of them weary and broken by whatever ordeal they had endured. As a flurry of despair swept about their group Lana started to cry, her shoulders heaving as she raised her head and looked at Daryl, the father of the baby whose life would be lost along with her own. Without concern Dwight dragged Daryl into place, and as he was shoved to his knees Carrie caught a glimpse of the glistening red blood on his neck and arms. He was hunched over to one side, weakly clutching the blanket around his shoulders that was his only source of warmth and first aid. In seconds the others were on their knees too, Michonne being pushed down beside Carrie while Rosita and Glenn took up Daryl's other side.

Feeling like she was going to be sick, Carrie forced herself to turn and look at Rick again, desperate for an indication that he knew what to do, that he was going to handle this. He always knew what to do, he always fought back and defended himself and the group. They'd been in terrible situations before, most notably on the Georgia supply run. Even when they'd been accosted and tied up by Granger, one of the men who had raped her the year before, Rick hadn't faltered. He knew what to do, how to fight back and survive…one glance at him now told her that wasn't the case tonight.

Like everyone else he was shaking, his features fraught with anguish, but she could see nothing else. Equally terrified as the rest of them, he had leant forward to look at the ground on which he knelt in submission, one hand raised to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. He typically did that out of exasperation, when he was taking a moment to reconsider whatever argument he was losing against his pregnant wife. Tonight though, the motion was one of only despair. He didn't know what to do…he didn't have a solution…he didn't know how to save their family.

"Alright, we got a full boat," the Saviour in charge declared, looking around at them all in satisfaction. "Let's meet the man."

Without further delay he rapped his knuckles on the door of the RV, summoning the occupant inside. Certain she was about to be sick Carrie lowered her gaze to the ground at her knees, trying to catch her breath, but she could barely breathe. As the baby moved and stretched without concern she heard the RV door open with a creak, followed by the sound of footsteps in the dirt.

"We pissin' our pants yet?"

* * *

 _As he slowly sank down to one knee, the only comfort he could find was that Carrie and Carl weren't there. Whatever happened to them that night, whatever happened to him…they wouldn't have to see it. Sweat was dripping down his forehead, interspersed with the tears of despair that sprung up in his eyes, because in that moment it suddenly hit home that this could be it for him. His time might be up. He might never kiss his kids goodnight again, he might never meet his and Carrie's baby. If he were to die he longed to see them one last time, to feel their comfort in his last moments._

 _In front of him Simon had crouched down, clicking his fingers to get his attention. When Rick looked up he was met with a smirk. "Those two cars over there," he said, gesturing to Rick's left, and then to his right. "And that car over there? You're gonna want to pay attention to them, because we've got something just for you."_

 _With that, Simon reached over and patted him on the shoulder, chuckling under his breath as he got to his feet and walked away. He called out to someone named Paula, pointing to the two cars on Rick's left and telling her to get started, and then a flurry of activity followed. Filled with a dreadful sense of despair he watched on as the Saviours converged on the two vehicles, revealing to him the true horrors of what they had in store for them._

From inside the first vehicle emerged an unmistakable, silhouette, one he would recognise anywhere and anytime. It was Carl, his hands bound behind him as he calmly walked towards them, not resisting the two Saviours who escorted him. As he adjusted to the bright light he blinked slowly, and though he was pale faced and scared he was holding himself together. In that moment Rick started to get up, unable to ignore the instinct to go to his son and protect him at any cost, but a sharp warning from Simon kept him on his knees.

The Saviours paused as another came forward to meet them, a small pocket knife used to free Carl's hands from their binding. He cooperated when he was escorted over and placed between Aaron and Eugene, tolerating the Saviours when one of them roughly shoved his hat back onto his head. Rick tried to make eye contact with him, but Carl was looking back the way he had come, watching the brief commotion that ensued.

He knew already what he was about to see, that if Carl had been captured then so too had Abraham and Carrie. Against his will he forced himself to look up, watching as Abraham was dragged from the trunk of the car and dumped on the ground, not that he was fighting. Simply getting to his feet he waited patiently as the hood was removed and his hands released, and he looked over his shoulder back into the trunk. A Saviour was standing there, reaching inside and grabbing at something.

"Bitch, don't make me drag you out by your hair, because I will."

At this threat she cooperated, and in the split second that Abraham walked across his line of vision Carrie had shuffled herself to the edge of the trunk. The sight of her drew a ragged groan from the pit of Rick's stomach, for even though he knew what was coming he had hoped that he was wrong, he had prayed that somehow she had managed to escape unharmed. But there she was, knees buckling when she tried to stand, whole body trembling as her hands were released and the hood removed from her head. She seemed unharmed so far, but that was little comfort to him right now. His eyes were drawn to the way her jacket pulled across her front, a painful reminder of the child she was carrying, a child whose life was also at risk.

Her eyes were red with crying, loose hair plastered to her face and neck as she looked at him in despair. "I'm sorry," she managed to say, starting to walk at the Saviour's instructions. She started to cry, her lips trembling as she looked away from him. "I'm sorry, Rick."

He wanted to say the same thing back, to show his remorse for not doing something sooner, to beg her forgiveness for putting their family in this situation. He shouldn't have let her come that day, he shouldn't have let Denise leave Alexandria…he should have taken action against the Saviours weeks ago like Richard wanted him to. There was little time for him to dwell, for the moment Carrie was settled down onto her knees beside Abraham, Simon kept things moving.

"Dwight," he called out.

"Yeah?"

"Chop chop."

Rick looked at the man that came forward, recognising his name and face from the day Denise had died. Here was the man who had held them up, who had threatened their lives, who had mistreated Denise's body by having the Saviours throw her down onto the road beside them. But tonight he couldn't even have the grim satisfaction of recalling the way he fled the very fight he initiated, too cowardly to fight them until the end. In an instant Dwight was opening the rear of a nearby van, and from inside he and the Saviours dragged Daryl, Michonne, Rosita and Glenn.

As they were brought out and pushed down to their knees he felt bile rising in his throat, sick to his stomach. Richard had warned him about this, and he had been so naive. He had insisted they would be ready for this, that the Saviours were something his people could handle.

 _"Like it or not, Rick, you're going to pay that cost. It's only a matter of when, and who."_

"Alright, we got a full boat," Simon declared, looking around at them all in satisfaction. "Let's meet the man."

Looking rather pleased by how well it had all come together Simon turned on his heel and walked up to the RV, rapping his knuckles against the door. As everything started coming together Rick felt his heart rate accelerating, and he desperately needed a moment to collect his thoughts. He needed to hit pause on this whole thing, to make Simon listen to him, because surely there was a way out of this that didn't involve his people paying the cost. But Negan was waiting for no one, and before Rick could prepare himself the RV door opened with a creak, a figure stepping out from the shadows.

"We pissin' our pants yet?" they asked smugly, pausing before taking a few steps into the light. "Boy do I have a feeling we're getting close."

Rick's eyes were focused on the ground in front of him, needing the extra time before he had to face the reality, and then finally he forced himself to look up. Fitting the description provided, the man of Richard's height was coming forward, but it was the barbed wire baseball bat over his shoulder that confirmed the person's identity as Negan. He was looking around at them all, smug and arrogant, enjoying himself as he walked the semi circle before him. Like Simon, he seemed generally pleased that this had come together so smoothly, that the prey that had tried to evade him had been recaptured in a matter of hours. There was a cold, cruelty in this man's eyes, a viciousness that Rick was unprepared to face.

"Yeah," Negan murmured, looking at each of them in turn. "It's gonna be pee pee pants city here real soon."

Having taken a moment to look at each of them, Negan returned to the centre of the line, Rick bracing himself to face him, to speak in answer of whatever question was coming his way, but Negan paid him no attention. Instead he slowly made his way towards Lana beside him, and when he crouched down in front of her she pushed herself up straight, her jaw quivering as she looked him in the eye.

To their surprise Negan leant in close to Lana and pressed a kiss to her cheek, the motion making her close her eyes and clench her lips shut. When he pulled back he smiled at her fondly. "Hello, Sweetheart," he greeted her, reaching down and picking up her left hand. His brow furrowed dramatically as he looked at it, his fingertips brushing the empty fourth finger. "Where have you been for the last eleven months?"

Lana visibly shuddered at the question, taking a shaky breath as she lowered her gaze. "I…I didn't wan-"

"I seem to recall that you stepped out of our marital home to go hit the treadmill," he thoughtfully remarked, pretending to rack his brains. "But you never came home…imagine my concern."

"I'm sorry," she said now, managing to find some strength in her voice. "I'm sorry for leaving. I…I didn't want to. Please, forgive me."

Ignoring her, Negan seemed untouched by her remorse. Instead he leant back and then brought the baseball bat down, the motion making those around him lurch in apprehension, something he seemed to relish. Bringing the baseball bat into his hands he seemed to bounce it in his palm, unconcerned by the barbs of wire pressing into his skin. It was mystifying to be this physically close to the leader of the Saviours, the man who wreaked havoc and destroyed so many lives. He was close enough to touch, close enough to plunge a knife into his carotid artery…not that Rick had ever needed a weapon to kill someone. But tonight he didn't dare make a move.

"Lucille missed you," he murmured, sounding affectionate. "Did you miss her?"

Without hesitation Lana nodded. "Yes."

"Go on then."

Rick's stomach turned at what Lana did next, and he had to look away when she slowly leant forward and pressed her lips to the bat, kissing it. She trembled when she pulled away, a full body shudder making her bring her hands back to her stomach, but Negan seemed to take no notice. Satisfied with her efforts he returned to his feet and backed away, swinging the bat a few times before returning it to its place over his shoulder.

"Which one of you pricks is the leader?"

"It's this one," Simon answered, pointing out Rick. "He's the guy."

Pleased with the quick answer, a smile began to grow on Negan's face, and he slowly approached Rick. Towering, he started down at him and held his gaze.

"Hi," he began softly, still smiling. "You're Rick, right? I'm Negan," he continued, lowering his voice dangerously. "And I do not appreciate you harbouring my fugitives."

"He didn't," Lana started desperately, trying to explain. "He didn't know."

Negan ignored her completely, still holding Rick's gaze. "I also don't appreciate what you did to Timmy and the dick brigade. Then, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people…you killed more of my people!" he said in exasperation. "Not fucking cool. You have no fucking idea how not fucking cool that shit is. But, I think you're gonna be up to speed shortly,"

"Negan, please," Lana begged. "We can work this out."

Still ignoring her, he continued. "You are so gonna regret crossin' me in a few minutes," he murmured darkly, still staring Rick down. "Fuck yeah, you are. You see Rick, there's a new world order, and even if you're fucking stupid you can understand it. Here goes, so pay attention."

At this he swing the bat down from his shoulder, bringing it towards Rick's face. In disgust he recoiled, but he had no breath with which to argue, nothing inside of him that told him what to say or do. He was helpless in a way that he had never been before. There would be no fighting his way out of this, nothing he could argue or compromise on…the only thing he could do was listen and wait for it to be over.

Clearly enjoying his despair, Negan smiled and leant down a little. "Give me your shit, or I will kill you." There was a long silence while Rick said nothing, but Negan only smiled at him. "You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That's your job. Now I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly mother fucking will!"

Unable to manage a response, Rick glanced over at Carrie. She had stopped crying now, and she knelt there on Abraham's other side looking completely shell shocked by what was happening. Beside him Lana was hunched over, shivering as she used one hand to hold herself upright.

"What?" Negan questioned, leaning in and raising his hand to his ear. "No answer?" He smirked now, looking out at all of them. "You don't really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished now, did you?"

"Negan," Lana whimpered, still trying to make him listen. "We can-"

"I don't wanna kill you people," he declared, stating to pace a little. "I just wanna make that clear from the get go. But, you killed my people. A whole fucking damn shit load of them, and then you strung 'em up outside your walls for all to see."

At this Rick looked up in horror, startled that the Saviours knew this. He looked up at Negan in shock, trying to find the words, but nothing would compute in his mind except the fact that they had been to Alexandria…how else would they know what he had done with the Saviours they killed?

"Oh yeah, I heard about your new additions," Negan told him, his upper lip curling. "Thought you were King Shit doing that, didn't you? But like I said, you are fucking fucked," he growled at him, starting to get worked up. "And for all that? For that, you gotta fucking pay."

"No," Lana raised her voice, pushing herself upright. "It wasn't them, it was me. It was all me, you-"

"Oh I know what you're responsible for," he declared, finally hearing her pleas. "You killed two innocent workers when you left the Sanctuary, and you left Frankie behind to explain. And make no mother fucking mistake…you're responsible for this too!"

"I can fix it," she argued, pleading with him. "I'll come back with you. Please Negan," she panted. "I'm sorry. I'll do whatever you want, I'll be better this time. Just…you don't have to kill anyone."

For a long moment there was silence, Negan looking down at her with what seemed like pity, but he would show her no mercy. Instead he swung the bat down from his shoulder and brought it to her eye level, slowly bringing it closer and closer until the top was pressed square against her forehead. She tried to stand her ground, to show him her strength, but all too quickly tears were spilling from her eyes, glistening on her pallid grey skin.

"I don't think you understand, Sweetheart," he began cruelly, his voice dangerously low. "You're not welcome back at the Sanctuary. You're not welcome in my bed. In fact," he declared, looking out at all the Saviours. "I think I'd rather have a blow job from Fat Joey than one from you. And that's sayin' a god damn lot, because that mouth of yours is pretty fucking fuckable."

There was a murmur of laughter from the Saviours, one of them wolf whistling before silence slowly resumed.

"But, I-"

Negan taunted her now. "Don't waste your breath, Sweet Heart. By the looks of it, you need every last one before you keel over."

Done with her, Negan lowered the bat from her forehead and stepped away, leaving in its wake a small cut and smear of blood. He backed away, holding the bat in the palm of his hand and looking around at them all in great interest, scrutinising them.

"Now we've got all that unpleasantness out of the way…I am gonna beat the holy fuck, fucking fuckety fuck, outta one o' you."

It didn't matter that he knew this was coming…hearing those words made Rick want to be sick right then and there, his stomach churning as a cold sweat broke out again. It was becoming increasingly harder to breathe, to keep his thoughts in order, and still he found himself searching for a solution. His eyes aimlessly searched their surroundings, waiting for someone to come out of nowhere and save them. But nothing came, nothing would protect them, and as Negan starting looking around the line up and scrutinising each of them, Rick simply prayed that it wasn't Carl or Carrie. He couldn't survive losing one of them, he couldn't go through the death of his child, the death of his wife and unborn bsby.

As if he had insight into Rick's very thoughts, Negan turned his attention to Carrie. "You," he began, his voice softening. "You're pregnant, right?"

Her face white as paper, Carrie was trembling when she looked up at him, but like Rick she was dumbstruck, she couldn't respond. Thankfully Negan seemed to take a different approach with her, and her lack of response didn't seem to infuriate him. Instead he crouched down a few feet away from her, looking at her in great interest.

"Go on then," he encouraged, using the bat to gesture to her midsection. "Show me."

Rick lurched now, and it didn't matter that he didn't know what to say or do, that there was nothing he could do to protect her, but he had to do something. But the moment he lurched Sasha reached out and seized his jacket, the short tug bringing him back to reality. The last thing he needed to do right now was make a move, especially a miscalculated one. Carrie glanced over at him now, holding his gaze for just a moment before she had to look away. She stared at the ground as she lowered the zip of her jacket, bringing it lower and lower at Negan's insistence, and he was satisfied only when it was completely open. Beneath she wore one of Rick's shirts with only a few buttons closed, and beneath that a thin white tank top she reserved for lounging around the house in.

"Wow," Negan practically gushed, looking at her in delighted awe. "That is a belly full of baby!" he declared, standing up and looking to the Saviours. "I think congratulations are in order!"

In perfect sync the crowd of Saviours let out a chorus of congratulations, a small number of them bursting into applause. Keeping the noise under control Simon waved his hand at them when he decided they were done, and then the cheers and applause ceased. The sudden return to silence was startling, only heightening the way Negan's voice tormented them.

"What's your name?"

"Carrie," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh, Carrie," Negan sighed, looking at her fondly. "What bastard did this to you? Go on now…who's the lucky man that bedded you?"

At this she looked back at the ground and tried to pull the coat back across herself, but Negan wouldn't let her. He crouched down in front of her and pulled the jacket open again, and the moment his hand made contact with hers Rick saw her eyes glazing over, seeing firsthand the way she mentally disassociated herself from the situation. She stared at the ground blankly, ignoring him when he asked for a second time who the father was.

Rick forced himself to speak, unable to stand Negan's proximity to Carrie. "I am," he answered, his voice stronger than expected. "I'm the father."

Negan turned around in surprise, staring at Rick incredulously for a long, uncomfortable moment. He turned back to Carrie and looked at her, and then scratching the back of his head he stood up and backed away a few feet.

"Paula," he called out.

One of the Saviours came forward, a red headed woman whose expression seemed to indicate she had something foul smelling under her nose. "Yeah?"

Using the bat to point, he indicated to Carl. "You said he was her kid."

Paula nodded. "That's what they told us. Both of them."

Negan chuckled now, smirking as he turned back to Rick. He seemed to look at him in admiration, apparently impressed. "Well Rick, that's quite the age spread you two have got going on there. A teenager, and a baby on the way. What's with that?"

To this he had no answer, not wanting to get into and details that could ever be used against him. Instead he glanced at Carl and then Carrie, the latter of whom was still staring at the ground, but now clutching her jacket across her belly.

"Well good for you," Negan declared, aimlessly swinging the bat back and forth as if playing with it. "You dumped a load in her, knocked her up and made sure she stayed. Better than letting her slip and fall onto someone else's dick. Isn't that right, Sweetheart?" he asked, looking to Lana.

Despite her earlier efforts to plead with him, Lana had given up trying, knowing that nothing was to be achieved. Unconcerned with her, Negan started to whistle as he aimlessly paced back and forth, still swinging the bat. He was looking around at each of them in interest, his eyes lingering on Carrie for longer than anyone was comfortable with, but he quickly moved on. Casting his eyes over Daryl he moved on to Rosita and Glenn, and then he seemed to give a great sigh of frustration.

"I simply cannot decide," he told them all, throwing a hand in the hair. He turned away, laughing to himself as he rubbed his forehead, and then he turned around to face Rick. He smiled at him now, looking pleased with himself. "I got an idea."

There was a brief pause as the two men looked at one another, Rick beginning to tremble at the expression on Negan's face. This was it…Negan was going to kill someone, and there was nothing he could do to stop him. He couldn't protect his people…he couldn't protect his children.

Taking two steps towards him, Negan smirked as he brandished the bat in his face. "Eeeny."

Cringing, Rick looked away in disgust as Negan turned to Lana beside him, brandishing the bat in her face as he began to recite the children's rhyme. Beginning to feel like he was about to completely come undone he forced himself to look up, feeling his heart stop when Negan turned to Carrie…but he held the bat by his side and said nothing. Instead he simply held her gaze and gave her a gentle smile, and then turned to Michonne.

"Moe."

A small moan of relief escaped Rick's throat. Negan had skipped Carrie, excluding her from his selection of who was going to die. She too realising what he had done, Carrie gave a small cry as she leant forward onto her hands, tears beginning to stream down her face as she tried to hold herself together. Negan on the other hand continued around the circle, pointing the bat to each and every one of them before changing things up, selecting them out of order - and yet he still made a point of excluding Carrie.

"My mother…told me…to pick…the very best….one," Negan recited, selecting each of them at random. "And you…are…"

Still unable to decide, Negan continued around the circle and then came to a stop, looking at Rick while the smirk on his face grew. He wished that he could be stronger, that he could properly raise his head and stare this adversary down, but he couldn't. Instead he held his breath and waited, praying that it wasn't his family, that it wasn't him…he didn't want that sight in their head. He didn't want the last Carrie and Carl saw of him to be his brutal death. Yet even when Negan made his choice, there wasn't a sense of relief.

Pleased with his selection, Negan turned away from Rick and pointed the bat to Abraham. "It."

There wasn't time to comprehend what was happened, there was barely time for Rick to look past Abraham to where Carrie knelt right beside him. She was raising her head, eyes wide as she looked up at Negan. Rick wanted to scream at her, to rush over there and get her out of the way, but just like her he was paralysed, helplessly frozen in place.

"If anybody moves, if anybody says anything, I pick another and we play extra innings," Negan declared, taking an expert grip on the handle of the bat. Below him Abraham looked up defiantly, shoulders straight as he stared down his murderer. "You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry. Hell," he sneered, raising the bat over his head. "You're all going to be doing that."

As if it was nothing to him, Negan swung the bat down on top of Abraham's head, and Rick looked away at the last minute. He couldn't stand to watch, raising his head only to glance, to see that it had really happened as if the sickening thud hadn't been enough. Someone had screamed, maybe Rosita, but to their disbelief Abraham was pushing himself up from the ground, blood streaming down his face as he stared up at Negan. Beside him Carrie was watching every moment in silent horror, unable to look away.

"Oh, look at that!" Negan hollered, grinning at him. "Taking it like a champ!"

Abraham looked up at him, swaying a little. "Suck…my nuts."

Laughing gleefully, Negan twirled the bat around in his hands before bringing it down again, knocking Abraham to the ground once more.

* * *

A/N - Hope it was worth the wait!

Some reviewers it might be the Kingdomers in the other cars, and you could have been spot on. I initially planned out a plot in which they were also part of the line up, but it created a plot hole so I had to scrap it.

Stay tuned for next week's chapter 43, another favourite of mine!


	43. Chapter 43

Every fibre of Carrie's being told her to look away, to close her eyes and to protect herself from seeing what happened. But she was paralysed, and only the notion that it wasn't Rick or Carl was computing inside her head, while everything else felt like white noise. In that moment it became terrifyingly real, for up until then maybe it had just been a bad dream, or maybe there was a chance the Saviours would show them mercy, but the moment Negan swung the bat over top of his head it began reality.

The sickening thud of the bat hitting Abraham's head made her shudder around a horrified scream. She watched on as he collapsed forward, her eyes wide and her lungs void of breath while Negan backed away and admired his handiwork. He twirled the bat in his hands, looking around at the Saviours as he put on a spectacle for them. But to their disbelief Abraham was pushing himself back up, swaying as he straightened up and slowly raised his eyes.

"Oh look at that," she heard Negan shouting, his voice sounding distant and far away. "Takin' it like a champ!"

She couldn't hear what it was that Abraham said, and nor could she tear her eyes away no matter how much she wanted to. When Negan swung the baseball bat and hit him again she was watching in silent horror, unable to scream, unable to cry. She heard every swoosh of the bat through the air, felt every thud when it hit the ground right beside her. Quickly she found herself covered dark red sprays of blood, feeling it hit her hands, her face and hair, and it was then she started to feel faint. As Negan continued mercilessly she finally closed her eyes, leaning forward with her hands in the dirt and her head hanging down. It seemed to last forever, like it would never be over.

"Did you hear that?" Negan laughed uproariously, his voice still sounding distant. "He said, suck my nuts!"

Just when she thought it was done Negan swung the bat again, the heavy thud on the ground making her jump in fright. She counted one, two and three more hits, and then finally he was finished, giving a dramatic groan as if the effort had strained a bad back.

"Oh my goodness," he laughed. "Look - at - this! You guys! Look at my dirty girl!"

Against her better judgement, Carrie took a few deep breaths and then slowly raised her head, looking up at him. He proudly held the bat in his hands, showing off the way it dripped with blood. Slowly she turned and looked at Abraham beside her, feeling bile rising in her throat the longer she looked. Turning away from the gruesome blood and viscera that marred the ground on which he lay, Carrie looked instead at his hand slumped on the ground, the hand that not so long ago had held hers as they rode in the back of the trunk. He had comforted her, said anything he could to reassure and prepare her for what was about to happen…and now he was dead.

"Sweetheart," Negan crooned, approaching Lana. "Lay your eyes on this."

As Negan came nearer she looked past Lana to where Rick was kneeling, looking him in the eye for a moment. Like everyone else he seemed shell shocked by what just happened, his shoulders heaving with every breath, and like hers must be his eyes were red from crying. She wanted to be able to tell him that she was alright, that everything was okay…but it wasn't.

Trying to pay attention to what was happening, Carrie turned her attention to Lana who knelt on Abraham's other side. Her condition having continued to deteriorate her face was pallid grey and shiny with sweat, hands trembling and body weak. But unconcerned for her welfare Negan towered over her, brandishing the bat that dripped with blood in front of her face. Despite his instructions she refused to look at it, panting as she looked past him into the light from one of the vehicles.

"Come on," Negan encouraged her, gesturing to the bat. "You are responsible for this. Red? And hell, he was, is and ever will be, red…he just took one or six or seven for the team!" he lectured, tormenting her. "Because of you. So look at what you did."

There was a long pause now, Negan waiting for Lana to obey him, while she stoically refused to play his game. But quickly his patience expired, and he brandished the bat in her face and roared, "Look at what you did!"

From out of nowhere can an infuriated yell, and before any of them could think to stop him Daryl had leapt to his feet and lunged. The blanket fell from around his shoulders as he took a shot at Negan, the force of the punch spinning him back and making him stumble away, and then a scuffle ensued. Two Saviours came for him, grabbing him from behind as he lunged again, looking for his next shot. While they watched on helplessly Lana cried out in despair, someone calling his name as they wrestled him down into the dirt and pinned him.

Rubbing his mouth with a grim sort of smile, Negan looked somewhat impressed by what had just happened. He seemed to laugh to himself, turning away to collect his thoughts as if he were a teacher trying to wrangle unruly students. "That? Oh my," he began, turning back to face them. "That, is a no no. The whole thing. Not one fucking bit of that shit flies here!"

Daryl was pinned to the ground, his arms held at awkward angles while he grunted and panted, still struggling against the Saviours. Negan crouched down beside him now, bringing the bat towards his face and making a point of showing it too him. At the same time Dwight was eagerly rushing forward, Daryl's crossbow raised in his hands.

"You want me to do it?" he asked eagerly, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet. "Right here."

"No," Lana cried out, whimpering. "Please…"

Carrie too did the same, she tried to beg them for mercy, but no sound would come from her throat but for a low whine, one of her hands reaching out as if she could protect him. They waited apprehensively, Daryl laying there panting for breath, not caring if they did it or not. Considering his decision, Negan seized a fistful of Daryl's hair and wrenched his head back, looking down at him with surprising admiration.

"No. You don't kill that," he decided, looking up at Dwight with a smirk. "Not until you try a little."

In disappointment Dwight lowered the crossbow, he and the other Saviours wrestling Daryl up and back into his place, and he fought them every step of the way.

"Now I already told you people," Negan lectured impatiently, pointing the bat at each of them. "No one move. I don't know what kind'a lying assholes you people have dealing with, but I'm a man of my fucking word. First impressions are important. I need you to _know_ me."

Breathing through her relief, Carrie pushed herself up and sat back on her heels, feeling her head clearing now that she had raised it. She hadn't really been listening to what Negan ranted about, too overcome with relief now that Daryl had gone unharmed, his outburst brushed over. She looked at him on the other side of Michonne, and with the blanket having fallen from his shoulders she could see more of the dried blood on his shoulder and arm, catching a glimpse of the white dressing that someone had applied for him. Whatever happened to him someone had treated the injury, albeit poorly. But he seemed unconcerned, his attention focused only on Lana. Their uncertain relationship aside he cared about her greatly, she was pregnant with his child. It must be terrifying to see her like this, to not be able to have an explanation for what was making her so sick.

"So," Negan said nonchalantly, raising the bat and resuming his expert grip on it. "Extra innings."

It was from the corner of her eye that she saw him swing the bat and bring it crashing down on top of Glenn's head, and by the time he hit him a second time Carrie was screaming. She could feel the sound tearing at her dry throat, feeling the way it trailed off into breathless horror. The whole world seemed to stop, her eyes transfixed on Glenn, and she dry retched when she saw the state of his face. He was trembling, his lips moving as he tried to speak, but then Negan bent down in front of him and began to torment him. Around her she could hear the others crying too, a heavy sob that sounded like Rick, but like with Abraham she couldn't look away. Terror rendered her frozen, but it also felt like her duty to watch every moment, like she owed it to Glenn to witness his death.

"Hell, I can see this is hard on you guys."

Dimly aware that Negan was speaking, she looked up at him and tried to pay attention, but although she could hear what he was saying it was a whole other thing to actually compute.

"I am sorry. I truly am," he said gently, and in a sick way it sounded like he meant it. "But I did say, no one move."

With another great flourish he turned around and hit Glenn again, and it was then that Carrie could take no more. She watched as he hit Glenn again and again, his body laying on the ground while his hands jerked pitifully, and then she started feeling faint. Lowering her head she placed her hands on the ground in front of her, leaning forward and watching as tears dripped from her face onto the dirt. The only thing she could do was try to breathe, fighting the overwhelming desire to give in to her body's needs and pass out. It would be a relief to fade into blackness and awaken when it was over, but she actively fought to stay conscious. She heaved for breath, despairing at the sound of every blow, finding no comfort when Michonne reached over and placed her hand atop hers.

"You bunch of pussies. I'm just getting started," Negan snarled, cruelly hitting Glenn over and over again. "Lucille…is thirsty," he panted as he finally stopped, trailing off into laughter. "She is a vampire bat!"

In her peripheral vision she watched as Negan finally walked away, but when she caught a glimpse of the viscera hanging from the bat she dry retched again, feeling the acid in the back of her throat. She clenched her eyes shut, doing everything she could to stifle the wail of despair that wanted to erupt from inside her. There was a long silence now, Carrie using the time to try and calm herself. Breathing in slowly she paid attention to the baby inside her, placing her hand on the right side of her belly where she could feel its head. It was safe inside her, squirming and moving around in response to her heart rate, the same way it did when she took a brisk walk. Surely this ordeal was over now…they could go, she could get her baby somewhere safe. It was over now.

A few minutes passed now, and for a second time it was movement in her peripheral vision that caught her attention. Somehow she had missed what had just happened, but she cried out when she saw Rick being dragged by the collar of his jacket, Negan wrenching him towards the RV while the swung the bat by his side.

"…maybe Rick will be with me. But if not, well we can just turn these people inside out, won't we?" Negan pondered out loud, reaching the RV and pausing to look back at them. "I mean…the ones that are left."

"No," she cried out weakly, doubting that anyone actually heard her. She watched helplessly as Negan shoved Rick through the open door before following him inside, slamming the door shut. There was silence now, and she waited a few moments before she couldn't stop herself. "Rick," she called, making her voice heard this time. "Rick!"

The RV rocked a little as those inside moved, and then to her disbelief the engine started to whir. It ticked over and whined a couple of times as it failed to start. Silence fell for a long moment, and then the RV moved with a brief commotion from inside. Each of them waited on tenterhooks for anything, for a sound or movement to tell them what was happening inside, but nothing came. With no breath to call out his name again Carrie was mute when the engine finally started, and though it whined like it had on the last leg of their journey it didn't falter.

With nothing to indicate what would happen next, the RV departed.

* * *

Wednesday, February 25

None of them had said a single word, not one utterance having passed their lips since Negan and Rick drove away in the RV. Almost forty minutes had gone by, dawn having broken in that time, an occurrence of which Carrie had barely noted. She had moved only to move her legs to the side so that she could sit on the ground, but the moment she did that she realised what a mistake it had been. Turning to the side brought into her line of sight Abraham's corpse, and she found herself staring at it, unable to turn away.

Her head was fuzzy with shock, for even as she sat next to his corpse she couldn't quite comprehend that he was dead. For forty minutes she had been sitting there staring at him, the morning light bringing the mangled remains of flesh and tissue into vivid clarity. Yet even as she watched an insect crawl over the gore she couldn't quite comprehend it. She was waiting for him to sit up, to materialise before them completely in tact and ready to tear the Saviours limb from limb. Intermittently she raised her eyes and looked over at Glenn, waiting for him to do the same thing. She kept feeling strangely annoyed with him, a small part of her angry at the way he didn't suddenly recover…didn't he know Maggie was going to be waiting for him? Had he forgotten about Herschel?

On the other side of Abraham was Lana, who still sat hunched over. By some miracle she was still there with them, holding herself up with only the strength of one hand on the ground, her shoulders moving with every slow and measured breath. Her face was hidden by the curtain of her hair, but judging by the angle of her head she was looking towards Eugene on the end of the line. Unlike Carrie who couldn't look away, Lana couldn't bring herself to look at Abraham beside her, the man whose death Negan held her responsible for.

The sound of footsteps wasn't cause for alarm, not when the Saviours had spent the last forty minutes restless and impatient, some of them airing complaints about being kept out all night. Occasionally they had broken away from the crowd to take down Walkers, tossing around bottles of water to one another while some set about topping up the gas tanks in a couple of cars. But even as these footsteps closed in Carrie didn't look up from Abraham beside her.

In her peripheral vision appeared two sets of feet, but she gave no reaction until one of them nudged her with the toe of their boot. The sensation of touch to her kneecap was startling, making her lurch as if she hadn't expected them to be real, as if she thought they were only an illusion. But they were very real, so real in fact that they nudged her a second time.

"Get up."

Slowly she raised her head, squinting as the morning light caught her eyes. She blinked awkwardly, recognising the features of the red headed woman who had patted her down last night, the one who Negan had referred to as Paula. She was looking down at her with impatience, and behind her stood a dark haired woman younger than Carrie, but whose expression was equally impatient.

"Bitch. Get up."

Her body not quite feeling like it belonged to her she tentatively pushed herself up to her knees, her limbs stiff from the way she had been sitting. But beside her Michonne was also moving, rising onto her knees and reaching out. She touched her hand to Carrie's shoulder, making her stop.

"Where are you taking her?"

"For a piss."

"No," Carrie said firmly, though she didn't consciously decide to speak. "I don't need to."

Paula sighed. "I wasn't asking. Get up."

Feeling world weary and exhausted, it took all her strength to keep moving, to get her feet underneath her and slowly rise. Beside her Michonne was still hesitant, mistrustful.

"Let me go with her. Please."

They ignored this request, the dark haired woman coming forward and taking Carrie by the elbow, pulling her the rest of the way to her feet. For a horrible moment her legs felt like jelly, her shoulders tensing as she prepared to fall, but to her relief her body didn't fail her. As circulation returned she stumbled a few paces before getting her bearings, the woman continuing to hold her by the elbow as they walked. She followed cooperatively, and like a sucker for punishment she looked down at Glenn as they walked by, still not quite comprehending that he wasn't going to get up.

She was escorted into the trees about twenty yards away, the Saviours affording her some semblance of privacy other than those who were following. Simon, Paula, the dark haired woman and three other woman were escorting her, heavily armed as they scoped out the safety of the area. The slowed to a stop, Simon flexing his jaw as he looked around before turning back to where the rest of the Saviours were congregated, making sure they'd gone far enough.

"Here's good," he said, glancing at Carrie before turning around and crossing his arms.

Releasing her, the dark haired woman gestured to the nearest tree and looked at her expectantly, while the others were spreading out a few yards away to keep watch. For a moment Carrie just stood there dumfounded, slowly coming around to what they wanted her to do. It was then that she felt a flicker of something other than the shock and numbness that had been her refuge for the last forty minutes. Apprehensive, she slowly breathed out as she looked around. She didn't need to pee, she'd told them that…she sure as hell didn't want to be half naked in broad daylight with that guy barely five feet away.

Noticing her looking at Simon, the dark haired woman seemed to roll her eyes. "He's not going to look. Just hurry up."

Still she was apprehensive, her hands hesitating as she tried to bring them to the top of her leggings, to do as she was told. The woman rolled her eyes and seized her by the elbow again, yanking at her and then leading her around to the other side of the tree where Simon wouldn't be able to see her. Carrie felt her heart starting to speed up, anxiety gripping her even as she slipped her thumb around the top of her leggings and began to lower them. Nevertheless it was enough to satisfy the woman, who now crossed her arms and backed away a few paces. Though she was still watching her it was only from her peripheral vision, supervising her by looking past her into the distance. Wanting to just get it over with Carrie kept one hand against the tree as she lowered herself into a well practiced squat, and in an instant she felt relief surge through her body.

She hadn't realised how badly she needed to pee, completely out of touch with her body, but as she relieved herself she felt an ache easing. Breathing out she closed her eyes for a moment, her fingertips clutching against the tree to hold herself steady, but in that moment she couldn't have cared if she fell. Christ…what a relief.

In front of her the dark haired woman scoffed under her breath. " _I don't need to go_ ," she muttered, mocking her. "But you're pissing like a race horse."

Carrie ignored her, not caring what she said. She simply finished up as quickly as she could, and when she was done she carefully got back to her feet and fixed her clothes, backing away from the spot. Following her every move the woman was close by, but to her surprise she now removed a bottle of water from her back pack and held it out to her.

"Drink some."

Getting the feeling that it wasn't a request, she took the bottle and unscrewed the cap. It occurred to her of course that this water could be contaminated with any number of poisons, but she raised it to her lips and took a sip anyway. If the Saviours wanted to poison her then her refusal to drink their water wasn't going to stop them. The water was cool and tasteless, the liquid wetting her mouth and quenching her dry throat. Having taken a sip she started to put the lid back on, but a stern shake of the woman's head compelled her to take another sip, followed by another after that.

As she drank she tried to ignore the way the woman was looking at her, the way all of them were. Now that she was dressed again they had turned back around to supervise, and they were all staring at her. Her jacket was still open from when Negan had made her show that she was pregnant, allowing them a glimpse of the way her white tank top was stretched over her belly, the way her naval bulged comically. Even Simon was looking at her belly in interest, his arms folded as he leant against a nearby tree.

Acknowledging their interest, a blonde haired woman with a nose ring cleared her throat. "Boy or girl?"

The question unnerved her, and she wondered if this was just polite conversation. This was the second time someone had asked about the gender of her baby. "I don't know."

Standing the furthest out, Paula was the only one not showing interest in her belly, more focused on the cigarette she was smoking. Nevertheless she joined the conversation. "You better pray for a girl."

Not understanding, Carrie slowly cast her eyes around at the Saviours, waiting for them to explain. But no explanation was given, and the dark haired woman took the water bottle from her and then grabbed her by the elbow. Their expedition over now they began returning to the others, Simon ahead of them taking down a Walker that was slowly making it's way towards the sound of conversation.

"Why?" Carrie forced herself to ask, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why should I pray for a girl?"

The woman's shoulders jerked with a laugh, and she looked around at her in pity. "Because he wants a boy."

There was no need to clarify who _he_ meant, not when the sinking feeling of dread was the only answer she required. She came to a stop as she tried to understand, to wrap her head around what they had just told her, but the woman tanked at her arm to keep her moving.

"Wait," she said, stopping again as she came within sight of her people. Unlike earlier when her eyes were drawn only to Abraham and Glenn, now she looked around at each of those who were still alive, taking in the deteriorating conditions of Daryl and Lana. Neither of them looked good, but Daryl at least had colour in his face, while Lana was barely holding herself up, her head still hanging while her hair hid most of her face.

"What?" the dark haired woman questioned impatiently, her grip on Carrie's arm tightening in warning.

"Lana needs help, please," she said quietly, looking the woman in the eye. "She's dying."

One of the other women who had escorted her into the trees grunted in disdain, roughly bumping Carrie's shoulder as she shoved her way past. "Good."

Her body was trembling again, startled by the intentional shove, but she kept trying. "Please. Let one of us take her, please."

The woman just looked at her in disdain, as did the others. "Do you know what she did?" she asked, smiling when Carrie nodded her head. "No, I mean _everything_. She didn't just run away and kill innocent people. She hit Arat over the head so hard she literally couldn't remember her own name. They used to be friends."

Carrie hesitated, doubting any argument in support of Lana would be heard. She turned and looked at the women who had shoved into her, taking an educated guess that she was Arat.

"Do you get it now?" the woman questioned. Clenching her arm again she moved in front of her, getting right up close in her face. "We wouldn't piss on that bitch if she was on fire."

"She was scared," Carrie pleaded, trying to step back. "Sh-"

"We're jus-"

Cutting her off, Simon started towards them and took Carrie by the other arm. "That's enough," he snapped at the Saviour, and in an instant Carrie was released. "They're back."

At this Carrie felt the breath leaving her body, dread taking its place. While on one hand she wanted Rick to return as soon as possible, on the other hand she didn't know if she was prepared to face whatever had happened while he was gone. Had Negan killed him? Was he going to open the RV door and throw her husband's maimed corpse onto the ground in front of her? In front of Carl?

There was little time for her to panic, for as Simon escorted her back to her place between Abraham and Michonne the sound of the RV became audible. All around them there was a flurry of movement from the Saviours, everyone standing to attention and taking up their weapons again. Conversation came to a halt, and when Carrie settled back onto her knees the RV came into sight, ambling through down the path as it returned to them. At first it seemed like a mirage, like Rick's return to them was too good to be true, a notion that only reinforced her fear that something terrible had happened. She could see Negan in the driver's seat, wearing that same shit eating grin as when he beat Glenn to death, so when he killed the engine and left the driver's seat Carrie started to hold her breath.

The RV rocked a little from movement inside, and then nothing. Silence stretched on for what felt like forever, Carrie's mind racing as she looked at the RV, taking in the large smears of blood that hadn't been there when they left. They had to be from Walkers she tried to rationalise, the same Walkers that had left blood and viscera all over the front. While they waited she turned and looked at Michonne beside her, begging for her to know something, to have an insight that no one else did, but just like the rest of them she was silent as she too waited. She looked around to the others now, setting her eyes on those like Rosita or Aaron, and finally she looked at Carl before managing to take a strained breath in. He was sitting back on his ankles with a blank expression, simply watching the RV and waiting for something to happen.

She wanted to say something to him, to offer blind reassurance, but before she could even think about what to say the RV door flung open. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw Rick tumble to the ground, and she groaned in relief as she started to lean forward, wanting to reach for him. Alive, he was trying to orient himself, panting for breath as he held his hatchet tightly in his hand, but before Carrie could get a proper look at him Negan was there too, seizing him by the collar of his jacket. Carelessly he dragged him across the ground back towards his people waiting in line, Rick scrambling to try and get up, but he never managed it.

All too quickly Negan dumped him face down on the ground near Abraham's corpse. As she waited Carrie held her breath, torn between looking at Rick who was almost close enough to touch, and Negan who stood behind him. Slowly pushing himself up, Rick panted for breath as he raised his head and looked at her. His pale face only enhanced the redness of his eyes, his expression of sorrow and regret making her heart break for him, for all of them. For all appearances he seemed unharmed from his trip with Negan, but there was a streak of blood across his cheek she hadn't noticed before. He was almost within reach, and she was just about to start moving forward when Negan spoke.

"Let me ask you something, Rick," he began in dissatisfaction. "Do you even know what that little trip was about?"

Beside her Lana was pushing herself upright, her breathing slow and shallow as she looked up at Negan. Her eyes were empty as she settled back to sit on her ankles, and she simply watched on in the knowledge that there was nothing she could do. She had no influence over him, not now that he had renounced her.

"Speak when you're spoken to," Negan instructed.

Lowering his head, Rick nodded. "Okay," he murmured, dragging his fingertips through the dirt as he tried to keep it together. "Okay."

"That trip was about the way you looked at me," Negan lectured. "I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand." There was a pause now, Negan giving him a wry smile. "But you're still looking at me the same fucking way. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna fucking work!"

Startling her, Negan crouched down on Rick's right hand side, peering at him curiously as he held the baseball bat in his hands. Rick was shaking, and he seemed to brace himself before looking up. A few murmured words were exchanged between them, and then Negan's sour expression softened. Without warning he clapped him on the shoulder and got to his feet.

"Alright," he seemed to decide, pacing a little as he brought the bat up to his shoulder. "Since you asked so nicely, I'll give you one last chance. Get some guns to the back of their heads."

Though there was a flurry of movement from the Saviours, none of those kneeling on the ground seemed to give much reaction. They were too exhausted, too emotionally spent from what had happened to them. Behind them the Saviours came forward, followed by the sound of metal clicks as they chambered a round before doing what their leader instructed.

"No," Rick murmured, raising his head again. "Please."

"Good," Negan praised, ignoring Rick completely. "Now…level with their noses so if you have to fire…" he trailed off, giving a sickening grin as he mimicked an explosion in front of his face. "It'll be a real fuckin' mess."

Steeling herself, Carrie slowly turned and looked over her shoulder, wanting to come face to face with the person and gun behind her. But there was none, and in confusion she looked further around. Saviours had come forward to stand behind every single one of those in the lineup, precisely following Negan's instructions as to where they should point their guns…but there was no one on her. Just like Lana had told them, not one of the Saviours had hurt Carrie, and it seemed they had no intention to.

"Kid," Negan called, gesturing to Carl. "Right here."

Her heart faltering, Carrie looked around at Carl on the other side of the line, imploring him not to do anything. Whatever Negan wanted from him was not going to be good.

"Kid…now."

To her dismay Carl slowly rose to his feet, his expression blank as he showed his refusal to be intimidated. Pleased with his obedience Negan smiled at him, slowly removing his belt as he came over.

"Are you a southpaw?"

"Am I what?" he questioned in disdain.

"You a lefty?"

"No."

"Good," Negan nodded, managing to slip the belt around his upper arm without putting the baseball bat down. He fumbled for a moment, but quickly secured it into a poorly made tourniquet. "Get down on the ground kid, next to Daddy. Spread them wings," he joked, taking his hat and tossing it over his shoulder.

Watching on as Negan pushed Carl right to the ground Carrie felt herself feeling faint again, horrified with what was happening. She didn't need anyone to spell it out for her, the tourniquet was indication enough, as was what he did next. Taking a black marker from Simon he murmured something to Carl, pushing his sleeve up and then drawing a thick black line across his forearm. Beside him Rick had also come to the same conclusion, and was shifting his weight between his knees, glancing up at Carrie as if she had a solution.

"Please…please," he murmured, turning back to Negan. "Please don't."

Negan smiled at him, recapping the marker. "Me?" he laughed. "I ain't doing shit." With a great sigh he stood to his feet, swinging the bat down by his side as he walked away a few paces and looked around at them all. "Rick. I want you to take your axe, cut your son's left arm off. Right on that line."

At this Carrie gave a low whimper, for until that moment she had hoped she was mistaken, that she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. She looked at Rick in horror, watching the way he turned to stare at the ground in front of him, eyes wide with panic. Beside him Carl was just laying there, his expression stony as he took it all in, simply awaiting his fate.

"Now I know - I know," Negan continued gently. "You're gonna have to process that for a second. Still though, I'm gonna need you to do it-"

"No," Carrie spoke up, her voice louder and stronger than she expected.

"-or all these people are gonna die."

"You don't have to do this," she said loudly.

Beside her Michonne spoke up too. "We understand," she added, her voice wavering. "We understand."

To her relief Negan looked around at them, but their relief was short lived. "You understand, yeah," he agreed, sounding satisfied with them. "I'm not sure that Rick does."

"He does," Michonne assured him, begging him to listen. "Please, he does understand. We all do."

"I'm gonna need a clean cut, right there on that line," he instructed Rick, ignoring them now. "We got a great doctor, the kid'll be fine. Rick…this needs to happen now. Or, I will crush the little fucker's skull myself."

On the ground Rick was panting, his head swaying as he started to panic. "It can - it can be me," he stammered, trying to bargain. "It can be me. Y-you can do it to me. I can go with…with you."

"No," he shook his head unsympathetically. "This is the only way. Rick…pick up the axe."

He looked up at him desperately, begging him again before slowly lowering his face back to the ground. She too starting to panic Carrie leant forward on her knees, softly calling out to Rick and telling him not to do it. Carl wouldn't survive it. She had no idea how far it was to the Hilltop, how skilled their doctor was, and she had little faith in Negan's assurance that the Saviours had a doctor for him.

"Not making a decision, is a _big_ decision," Negan lectured again, becoming impatient. "You really wanna see all these people die? You will see every ugly thing, including me cutting that baby out of her," he threatened, pointing to Carrie. There was a long pause as Negan waited, and then he laughed in disdain. "Oh my God. Are you gonna make me fucking count?"

A heavy sob wracked Rick's shoulders, his eyes wet with despair as he raised his head. She couldn't imagine what he must be thinking, for what Negan was telling him to do went against every instinct he had as Carl's father. He couldn't do this, he couldn't hurt his child like that…it would kill him, but his inaction would kill them all. Despairing Rick looked up at her, asking for her help without saying a word, begging her for a solution that she didn't have.

"Okay Rick you win. I am counting," Negan decided, looking down at him in disgust. "Three!"

"Please…please," Rick hoarsely begged, sobs wracking his shoulders. "It can be me, please."

Negan crouched down beside him. "Two!"

"Please. Don't do-"

Cutting off his plea Negan slapped him across the face, seizing him by the jaw and forcing him to look at him. "This is it."

"Wait, please!" Carrie begged, lurching forward without thinking. She had to do something, she had to stop this before it was too late, but before she could move far someone seized her by the hair and wrenched her back, and she despaired when the Saviours moved in closer to them, their guns still ready to fire.

"One."

Rick started to scream, his whole body quaking as he slowly put his hand over Carl's. When he raised the axe over his head Carrie cried out "Rick, do-", but she stopped herself at the last second, because she didn't know if she was going to say _don't do it_ , or _do it_. She had watched almost every moment of what happened to Abraham and Glenn, but it was this that proved to be too much for her. Too terrified to watch she clenched her eyes shut and held her breath, unable to see Rick break as he was forced to main his son, unable to bear the thought that Carl might die.

She was braced for the thud, braced for the sound of Carl's scream and Rick's anguish…but it didn't come. There was nothing but the sound of Rick's scream quieting into a low moan, and finally she summoned the courage she open her eyes and look. With gut wrenching relief she found Negan crouched down in front of him, Rick trembling and gasping as he lowered the axe.

"You answer to me," Negan said calmly, simply stating a fact. "You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?"

Rick nodded without hesitation, still trembling when he dropped the axe as if it had burned him. Despite this Negan's expression soured, and he seized Rick by the face again. "Speak when you're spoken to! You answer to me!"

"Yes," Rick managed, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"You provide for me."

"Provide for you."

"You belong to me. Right?"

Rick nodded. "Right," he whispered.

Finally, Negan was satisfied. "Right," he began before jabbing his finger at his face. "That is the look I wanted to see."

Done, he stood up now and picked up the axe, walking away a few paces as he prepared to address the rest of the group. Giving a strained sob of relief Carrie lowered herself back down to sitting on her her ankles, but she shuffled herself an inch closer to Rick as if it would make a difference. She waited for him to look up at her, to show him that he was alright, that there was still that familiar light in his eyes. But his head was lowered, eyes trained on the ground before him as he panted for breath.

"You did it," Negan praised, looking at each of them in admiration. "Now I hope for all your sake, that you get it. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for it…that is over now. Well…do you understand?"

Realising what he wanted, each of them softly murmured their agreement, their voices sounding like a broken and out of tune music box. Suddenly aware of the tears streaming down her face Carrie tried to collect herself, feeling how shallow her breaths had become. When was this going to be over…when would it be over?

"Dwight. Load him up."

Feeling like she had nothing left inside her, she watched on blankly as Dwight came forward and wrenched Daryl to his feet. Without regard for his injuries he yanked him back towards the black van in which he had arrived in earlier, cruelly shoving him inside before raising his own crossbow at him. As they watched on Lana started to cry, a high pitched whine escaping her throat before she breathlessly trailed off.

"He's mine now," Negan said lowly, crouching down beside Rick yet again. "You still wanna try something, not today not tomorrow?"

Obedient, Rick slowly shook his head. "No."

"You fucking try something, I reserve the right to cut pieces off of him and then watch you gag and puke as I feed 'em to you. Got it?"

"Y-yes."

Still Negan wasn't finished, but now he leant closer and lowered his voice. Placing his hand on Rick's shoulder he said something else, that cruel smile playing on his features as he watched him despairing.

"No," he said quietly. "Please. You can't."

"Oh, but I am."

"Please," Rick begged, lowering his head as he murmured something else, something that made Negan grin.

"And good job with that. I bet you love seeing that big belly and knowing you're responsible for putting it there, am I right? Well, she's mine now too."

As Rick begged again, his shoulders shuddering with emotion, Carrie looked up and saw Simon moving towards her. In that horrible moment realisation hit, terrifying her as the comment made sense. Negan was taking her too. It didn't matter the situation, it didn't matter that there were guns everywhere and they were so heavily outnumbered, she panicked. Her feet scrambled in the dirt as she pushed herself up, looking up at Simon in dread as she backed away from him. She was ready to beg him, to do whatever she had to do, but she should have known they'd be prepared for this. Her haste to flee saw her backing straight into the arms of the Saviour behind her, one who easily wrenched her arms behind her back and rendered her immobile.

Simon lunged, slapping his hand over her mouth before she could scream. "I don't want to make this unpleasant for you."

Wide eyed she looked down at her belly, gut wrenchingly vulnerable without her hands there to protect herself. But to her relief Simon slowly lowered his hand from her mouth, allowing her to speak. "Please, you have to let me go," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm having a baby."

"Just ke-"

"I'll do anything, please. Anything," she emphasised, meaning it. "I'll let you do anyth-"

Before she could finish that thought Simon slapped his hand back over her mouth, his eyes flashing with anger as he glared at her. "Cut that shit out," he warned. "You say shit like that, they'll get ideas and think they can run a train on you for half a stick of gum."

"Keep it together," the Saviour holding her arms instructed, the blonde haired woman with the nose ring. "Don't let him do something stupid because you're panicking."

As tears welled up in her eyes she looked back towards the group, shuddering when she saw Rick slowly getting to his feet. He was struggling for breath, but with Negan standing right behind him there was nothing he could do…there was nothing either of them could do. Another moment passed before Simon lowered his hand from her mouth, allowing her to catch her breath before he removed two cable ties from his pocket and looped them together. Tying them more loosely than the others had, he secured her wrists behind her back and then the other Saviour let her go. She wanted to scream, to cry out for someone to help her, but to her disbelief she found herself doing exactly as they asked. Cooperating, she remained quiet as they led her back past the group and to the cars that were awaiting them.

"Please, don't," Rick was begging, turning around to Negan. "You can take _me_. I'll go with you."

"This is for her own good," Negan declared, clasping him on the shoulder. "I think we can both agree that she's safer with me than with you."

"You can't take her!" he begged hoarsely, desperation seeing him raising his voice. "Please."

Still impatient with him, Negan stepped forward and grabbed him by the jaw yet again, the motion enough to force him into submission. Leaning in close he snarled something that only the two of them could hear, something that made Rick's knees buckle. Negan looked at him in disgust before shoving him away, twirling the baseball bat around in his hands.

"Welcome to a brand new beginning you sorry shits," he declared, looking at Carrie in delight. "I'm, gonna leave you a truck. You can use it to cart all the crap you're gonna find me. We'll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then," he concluded, tossing the axe over his shoulder. "Ta ta."

As they reached one of the vehicles Carrie came to a stop, desperately looking over her shoulder at the rest of the group. She quickly cast her eyes over everyone, both the living and the dead, but it was Rick she stopped at. He had sunk down to one knee, and for a fleeting moment she remembered when he proposed to her last year, the way he accidentally knelt in a patch of manure. She had laughed at him once she had that ring on her finger, had taken him home and made him remove his jeans on the pretence of needing to launder them, when in fact she just wanted to celebrate. Now the sight of him on one knee was heart breaking, particularly when it gave out and he knelt there on the ground, his shoulders heaving as he cried.

"I'm sorry," he cried out to her, forcing himself to raise his head and look her in the eye. "Carrie, I'm sorry."

She sensed herself starting to lose it, feeling the overwhelming instinct to rush over there and comfort him, to protect him and their family. But she couldn't do it, and she couldn't even draw enough breath to speak. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, but what if the only thing that came out was a scream of desperation? If she spoke to him she could cry, she would beg him to help her…it would only make things worse.

It was almost a relief when the blonde haired Saviour tugged at her arm impatiently, forcing her to wrench her eyes away from her family and get into the car. The moment she climbed into the back seat she allowed herself to break down, mournful sobs wracking her body as she cried for everything that had happened, crying for herself and her baby as the vehicles engine started.

All around engines were roaring to life, Saviours piling into their vehicles as they each prepared to return to their respective outposts. In the driver's seat of her car was Simon, and beside her was the blonde haired Saviour and Arat. They showed her no sympathy, going only to the effort of putting her seatbelt on for her before shoving a black hood back over her head. With that the car lurched into motion, Simon lowering the window and calling out instructions to someone else in another truck, someone whose name she didn't recognise.

"Full disclosure, Hun," Simon began apologetically. "We got an hour's drive ahead of us, and we're not stoppin' for bathroom breaks."

* * *

A/N

Full disclaimer - this will not be a damsel in distress story line. Yes, Carrie is technically a damsel in distress, but that is not the point of this story line. We're taking a full look at life in the Sanctuary, and it had to be from either Rick, Carrie or Lana's POC. I want to keep the story centred on Rick/Carrie with a few Lana chapters thrown in here and there, so it came down to Carrie going to the Sanctuary. Even if you have your doubts I implore you to stick with the story - this is gonna be so much fun!

Huge thanks to all my reviewers, but in particular those who reviewed last chapter. Seriously gave me a much needed boost to read your reviews, I loved them! Thanks a million!


	44. Chapter 44

Having travelled at great speed for around sixty minutes, Carrie was certain that they had covered a significant distance. Even blindfolded she knew they Simon was confident at the wheel, familiar with these roads, and there was no question as to where they were taking her. By the time she felt the vehicle slowing down and making a series of turns Carrie wished they weren't getting close. It would be easier by far for them to simply keep on driving, for her to never have to get out of this car until the entire thing was over and they were bringing her home.

Having arrived the Saviours started getting out, Carrie waiting until she felt a hand on her below gently tugging, telling her what to do. With the hood tucked into her coat she could see absolutely nothing, depending solely on touch and the person guiding her out of the car to her feet. But with one sense restricted the others felt heightened, the texture of the ground telling her she was standing on gravel, and the warmth of the morning sun told her she was out in the open. In seconds she had taken all of this in, that in addition to the sound of smell of Walkers nearby. Nevertheless she didn't feel alarmed, not able to hear the sound of anyone fighting them, or their eager snarls that only started when they were in pursuit of prey.

She was led maybe twenty paces across the gravel before she was slowed to a stop, turned around and then backed up against something hard and slim…a metal pole. It was there that her hands were bound with handcuffs and the plastic cable ties cut. For a brief moment of relief the hood was raised, but just like last night in the back of the car it was raised only as high as her mouth and nose.

"It's water," came a familiar voice, one she now knew to be Laura. "Drink it."

Obedient, Carrie parted her lips when she felt the top of a water bottle pressed against them, allowing Laura to tip it into her mouth for her. She drank two mouthfuls before it was taken away and the hood lowered, and then Laura left without a word. For the longest time she simply stood there and awaited her fate, grateful that the heightened emotions of before had now faded. Now all she could feel was a blissful sense of numb, a detachment from reality that she probably needed to stay upright. She had stopped crying only a few minutes after they had left the woods, after she had left her family behind.

The longer she stood there waiting the stranger it all started to seem. It felt odd to be separated from her people, like at any minute she would feel Rick's hand on her shoulder, his comforting voice telling that that a mistake had been made, that she was coming home. Instead she was forced to wait, but she was not without her wits. With numbed emotions came the ability to think clearly, and while she waited with her hands cuffed behind her back she continued trying to learn as much as she could about her surroundings. She was cuffed to what felt like the railing of some stairs, the cylindrical metal round and smooth behind her, curving halfway up her back before moving upward. It was difficult to learn much more given her hands were behind her back, but then she began exploring with her feet, shuffling one of them backward and feeling the rise of a concrete step behind her, and another above that.

"Quit it," Laura said in exasperation, noticing what she was doing with her feet. "Just stand still and wait."

Obedient still, Carrie did as she was told and stood there quietly, trying to ignore the fact that she needed to pee again. Somehow that was quickly becoming her biggest problem, something that seemed wildly disproportionate to her situation. Glenn and Abraham were just beaten to death, she and Daryl taken hostage, and she was giving birth in a matter of weeks…yet her biggest problem was her poor, squashed bladder.

"I have to pee," she said a few minutes later, wondering what Laura would do. Though her tone was meek and not confrontational, she resisted the natural inclination to say please.

"So do I. You'll have to wait."

 _Oh yeah? Do you human being sitting on your bladder?_

Again choosing to hold her tongue, Carrie resigned herself to continuing the long wait, and to her relief it was only another ten minutes before something happened. A heavy door rattled open followed by heavy footsteps, and then came Simon's voice.

"We're ready for her. We're taking her down to three."

Sounding as relieved as her, Laura made quick work of releasing her from the metal pole, surprising her by releasing her from the cuffs all together. Allowing her to walk with her hands free Laura took her by the elbow and slowly led her up the stairs, and when they reached the top she sensed the presence of Simon lingering nearby. In an instant she knew they had gone inside a building, feeling the sun's warmth vanish, hearing conversation and noise that felt contained by walls and a ceiling. But all too quickly she lost sense of her surroundings, trying and failing to keep track of which way they had taken her. Down a flight of stairs, right turn, left turn, up a flight of stairs then down again. Every step of the way Laura and Simon were surprisingly helpful for hostage takers, warning her of the steps and not letting her bump into anything.

Finally they reached their destination, the hood over her head removed with a great flourish. The sudden change of environment made her close her eyes and cringe, though thankfully her surroundings were dim and poorly lit, making it easier for her eyes to adjust. Looking around she set her eyes on Laura and Simon, and then behind them stood Arat with the scowl that hadn't left her face all morning. They were all looking at her expectantly, and not understanding Carrie simply looked back at them.

"Come on," Laura said, her tone softening a little when she nudged her to take a step backwards.

Looking behind herself Carrie faltered when she realised what she stood before, that on the other side of the large open door was a tiny room they expected her to enter. It was a cell, her prison for the foreseeable future, and it was with trepidation that she allowed Laura to usher her inside.

"Where's Daryl?" she asked, her voice not feeling like it belonged to her.

Having followed her in, Laura crouched down in front of her and began untying her shoe laces. "In his own cell."

"Can I see him? Please," she added, not caring if she had to ask nicely. "I-I can share a cell with him."

"No."

For a moment she simply watched on as Laura removed the shoelace from her right sneaker, winding it around her fingers before moving onto her left one. With Arat and Simon supervising from the threshold she slowly began looking around the cell. A mattress was placed against the wall, prepared with a fitted sheet, two blankets and two pillows. In the corner was an entire case of bottled water, a glass faced camping lantern and some books neatly stacked. In the other corner was a bucket with a sealed lid, the roll of toilet paper sitting on top an indication of its intended use.

"When can I see him?" she asked next, holding her breath as Laura went through the motions of patting her down again, checking for a belt before plunging her hands into her jacket pockets.

"You can't."

Her chest began to tightened when Laura reached behind her neck, a familiar weight vanishing from her chest as she removed the necklace she wore. It was the pressed daisy encased in resin, a gift from Rick for her thirty fourth birthday last year. Without concern Laura passed it to Arat and then reached for Carrie's ears, removing her earrings next. As if it would stop her she clenched her left hand into a fist, trying to subtly hide it behind her leg, but Laura wasn't to be fooled. She reached for her left hand and prised opened her fingers, not looking her in the eye as she removed her sapphire engagement ring and wedding band.

"Daryl was hurt," Carrie said next, remembering the bad state he had been in last she saw him. "Your doctor's going to check on him, right? If h-"

"He's fine, quit asking about him," Laura said impatiently, passing Arat the jewellery before reaching into Carrie's hair and wrenching out the elastic tie. She flinched in discomfort, feeling strands of hair pulled out at the root, but she didn't dare raise a complaint.

Out in the hallway, Simon was also looking impatient. "Take her bra too."

At this Carrie balked, quickly taking a step back until she felt the mattress behind her feet. "No," she said firmly, awkwardly raising her arms across her chest.

"The underwire of a tit cage can be very agile when it comes to slicing throats," Simon said, sounding as though he had rehearsed this in preparation of her complaints. "Take it off."

"It's a maternity bra, there's no underwire in it," she forcefully stated, trying to stand up for herself. She looked at Laura now. "Check it yourself if you want to."

Perhaps not thinking her argument to be unreasonable, Laura looked over her shoulder at Simon, but when he shook his head she wasted no time in getting her point across. "Take it off, or I will. Your choice."

Still hoping to stand her ground she looked at Arat next, but it was quickly clear to her that the entire thing was a lost cause. Realising she was not going to win this round she slowly began to remove her jacket, grateful that Simon made a point of completely turning away. She moved slowly, still hoping that they might change her mind, but when she lowered her outer shirt to the ground she knew there wasn't going to be any sympathy. Keeping her tank top on she slipped her arms out of the bra straps and opened the clasp at the rear, swiftly pulling it out of the front of her shirt.

Satisfied, Laura took the bra from her and inspected it, noting to herself that it was indeed free of the underwire that Simon had been concerned about. Nevertheless she said nothing more, turning away and stopping only when Carrie asked her to wait. "What?" she asked, stopping and looking back at her.

She faltered, not really knowing what she was going to say. Looking at all three of them she tried not to make a fool of herself, awkwardly crossing her arms across her chest. "When am I getting out of here?"

The fact that none of them answered was the only information she needed. They left without another word, the heavy door closing and engulfing her in darkness before the lock turned, a great sense of finality coming over her. For the longest time she simply stood there with her arms still folded across her chest, a part of her fully expecting someone to come back, for them to apologise and say that a mistake had been made. Someone had screwed up, she wasn't supposed to be here…they were taking her back to her home.

But that was only wishful thinking. Nervously she started feeling her way around the room, finding the opposite wall and then lowering herself to her knees. From there she felt around and found what she was looking for, fumbling with the camping lantern before finding the switch that would turn it on. Having accepted that no one was coming back in the foreseeable future she resigned herself to the necessity of having to pee into a bucket, and when she relieved herself it was with the grim hope it was that bitch Laura who had to empty it.

Not concerned with preserving the batteries she left the lamp on for the time being, taking a bottle of water before slowly sinking down onto the mattress set out for her. It was surprisingly comfortable, the top plush with padding, and a quick inspection beneath the sheet indicated that it was rather expensive. Then again, these days anyone could have a high end mattress so long as they were willing to go out and get it…or in the Saviour's case, steal and kill for it. Not wanting to know who had died so that the Saviours could have comfortable mattresses, Carrie settled in for the time being, sitting opposite the door and watching it expectantly, waiting for it to open.

"I guess it's just you and me," she murmured to her belly, her hands beneath her shirt to touch her skin. She could feel the baby moving around inside of her, stretching and making itself comfortable. It was almost more active when she was at rest, and though it drove her crazy at night when she was trying to sleep now every movement big or small was a comfort to her. It reminded her of why she needed to keep it together, of why she had to survive this no matter what happened to her…even if that meant giving birth here.

It was impossible for this thought to not cross her mind. She could have this baby any day now, though if she were lucky the pregnancy would stretch on for another few weeks, she would have as much time as possible. But there was no denying the precariousness of her situation, the likelihood that Negan and the Saviours were not going to care that she didn't want to give birth here. They wouldn't care that if she had to do it alone, that she would want Rick by her side, the father supporting her before meeting their child together. Would she even be allowed to keep it? Paula's comments from earlier are what went through her mind in those first few hours in the cell. _Pray for a girl. He wants a boy_. Is that why Negan had taken her? Was he going to take the baby from her?

Hours passed without a incident, and she jumped in fright when she finally heard the lock turning on the door. It began to open a moment later, dim light entering the room as her heart pounded nervously. She instinctually cowered back against the wall as a figure appeared in the threshold, one hand poised ready to protect herself from harm, but none came. As her eyes adjusted she realised what this was, and she watched as the figure in the doorway bent over and placed something on the floor. Judging by their threadbare sweatshirt and pants it was one of the workers Lana had told them about. Their head was bowed as they backed out of the room, and when they turned to close the door she caught sight of a person standing behind them. It was Dwight, his shaggy blonde hair impossible to mistake, as was the sight of what he was wearing. Seeing Daryl's leather vest on him made her want to be sick with disgust…she hadn't noticed that earlier.

The moment the door closed and the lock turned Carrie shuffled off the mattress and reached for what had been placed on the floor, and her mouth watered with hunger as she brought the paper plate into the light. But her hunger quickly vanished when she detected a stomach turning smell, and her heart sank when she removed the top of the stale bread roll and looked at the lump of dog food. She stared at it, contemplating the reality that she was going to have to eat this, else she would continue to go hungry. Scrutinising it, she looked at the underside of the bread, wondering how much of the dog food's taste had seeped into the stale bread. It was disgusting.

No sooner than she had resigned herself to at least eating the bread did the door fly open, and the haste of the person entering saw her dropping the plate and scrambling back in alarm. It was Dwight, his eyes wide with momentary panic, but when he saw that she had dropped the plate and food he breathed a visible sigh of relief. Trying not to look as though she was cowering in the corner, though that's exactly what she was doing, Carrie watched in disbelief as he picked up the food and put it back onto the paper plate, taking a rag from his pocket and wiping the remnants off of the floor.

Avoiding eye contact with her he turned around and berated the worker waiting outside, but when he came back in his demeanour had softened again. This time he looked at her, showing her the paper plate that contained another bread roll. Slowly he lowered it to the ground by the mattress and then backed away, and when he glanced up at her she took the opportunity to observe the extensive scarring on the left side of his face. She hoped it was fucking agony when Negan burned him, that he pissed himself he was in so much pain. Daryl had tried to help him and Sherry, had offered them a safe haven in Alexandria…but they had thrown it back in his face.

"You need anything?" Dwight enquired.

For a long moment Carrie was silent, giving serious consideration to not answering him at all. This piece of shit wasn't worth her breath, but someone else was, even if it was a long shot. "I want to see him," she requested, not needing to clarify that she meant Daryl. "Please. Just for a minute?"

Dwight shook his head, showing her no sympathy. As he backed out of the room he dug around in the pocket of his jeans, and he removed two small pieces of yellow foam. Without a word he tossed the pieces of foam onto the mattress before backing out of the room, the door closing and locking once more.

Slowly Carrie made her way back to the bed, but there was no relief upon finding that this bread roll was filled with a fried egg and strip of bacon. There was no doubt in her mind who the dog food roll was actually intended for, and she tried not to picture poor Daryl having to eat it, having no choice when he eventually became hungry enough. Faced with no choice of her own, for now was not the time to enact a hunger strike, she slowly began to eat the food provided for her. As she ate she looked at the two pieces of yellow foam Dwight had tossed onto the bed, a brief inspection revealing them to be ear plugs.

A short while later she realised what the ear plugs were for. With her stomach full and the paper plate empty she was sitting on the bed looking at the door, waiting for something else to happen. She felt guilty for eating every last bite of that sandwich while Daryl had been forced to eat dog food, helpless that she had no choice in the matter. But her guilt only deepened when the music started, the upbeat and chirpy song that proceeded to play on repeat for hours and hours on end. It was by no means intrusive on her, the repetitive song only just loud enough to be annoying, but she doubted it was that way for Daryl.

Without a watch there was no real way to observe the passing of time, and after what felt like more hours and hours of waiting finally someone came back. That damn song was still playing relentlessly, but at the sight of shadows moving beneath the door Carrie's heart soared, glad that finally someone was coming to get her. She didn't know what was going to happen next, whether it would be good or bad, but she had to know…she couldn't wait any longer.

By the time the door eventually opened she was already back on her feet, facing the door and waiting expectantly. This time it was Laura in the company of another worker, and she looked at Carrie with a distinct air of impatience. Wasting no time she gestured for the worker to go in, forcing Carrie to step back as they entered the cell and retrieved the paper plate on which her breakfast had been served. She looked at Laura expectantly, waiting for her instructions as to what was happening next, for where they were going…but none came. Instead the worker came back, this time bearing a plastic tray they set down on the floor beside the mattress.

As the door started to close Carrie rushed forward, looking at the tray to find a generous serving of chicken salad, a chocolate pudding cup and an apple. Nevertheless she turned to Laura in disbelief, stopping her as she tried to close the door.

"What?" she asked in annoyance, raising her voice to be heard over the music.

Carrie just gaped at her, struggling to comprehend what was happening. "When am I…" she starting, awkwardly trailing off. The question was obvious, right? When was she was she getting out of there? When was she going home?

Just like earlier, Laura closed the door without another word, the heavy thud of the turning lock condemning her to her new prison.

* * *

The first and only thing that Lana became aware of was the fact that the pain was gone.

For what felt like forever she was suspended in a state of limbo, feeling herself drifting back and forth between conscious thought and blackness, never quite able to fully grasp hold of one or the other. She was no longer in pain, but that didn't necessarily mean she was alive…but slowly, bit by bit, little pieces came back to her. The rise and fall of her chest told her that she was breathing, ambient noise telling her that she was not alone, not really anyway. As the pieces came together so too did conscious thought, the notion that she was warm and safe somewhere. It was the latter aspect that made her open her eyes, the _somewhere_.

Her eyes felt sore and heavy when she cracked them open, and it took a long time to realise that the round shape she was staring at was a wall clock, but even longer to read the time. The longer she stared at it the more her blurry vision cleared, but it still felt overly strenuous to study the two hands, to decipher that it was six o'clock…but there was no way to tell if that meant six o'clock at night or in the morning.

With each passing moment she felt her mind catching up to reality, and though her head was heavy with exhaustion she was vividly aware of the fact that she was coming around. Blinking, she did what little investigating she could manage, looking down at herself and scrutinising the loose hospital gown she was wearing, but when she lifted her arm to see more she felt the first throb of pain. It was low on her hip, and as it grew in strength she clenched her lips together, wondering what had happened to her. Her hand hovered in mid air, unsure of where to place it now that she had moved, and slowly she brought it to the top of the blanket. She tentatively lifted it away and let it fall across her knees, frustrated that the hospital gown itself went down past her knees.

For a moments she fumbled with the fabric, the pain near her hip easing into a dull ache as she found the edge of the gown and lifted it. For a moment she was alarmed to find that she was naked underneath, but her attention was quickly drawn by the white dressing on her lower right belly. It was enormous in size and taped down at every edge, and as she connected the dots to her appendix she turned her focus elsewhere. She needed to know if she was bleeding again, if she'd had a miscarriage. But though she looked in search of blood she found only a thin tube running from between her legs, and it was then she decided she didn't want to see anymore.

Warm enough without the blanket, Lana simply pulled the hospital gown back across her lap and then brought her hand to rest across her chest. For a few long moments she simply stared at the far wall of the trailer, watching the way the light from the lamp played across the ceiling, and she wished she could think of nothing other than that. But each waking moment brought with it clarity, the memories of what happened to them beginning to make themselves known. The Saviours had finally caught them, it was inevitable that they would. But the moment she saw him Lana knew that Negan wasn't going to kill her, and not because he might still harbour a sick, twisted affection for her. Negan wouldn't kill her, because what happened was her punishment for leaving him.

Not caring for her reasons or remorse, he wanted her to bear witness to the consequences of her actions. To him it didn't matter that Vetor was the one who made her leave…she had never returned to the Sanctuary, and she had never asked for his forgiveness. If she had done those things she would have been forgiven, but instead she had started her life over without him, had evaded him, had tried to help Alexandria gain the upper hand. What he did to them last night had been to get them under his rule, but also served as her retribution. He wanted her to see every moment, had shoved Lucille at her face while Abraham lay next to her, his blood spattered across her face, and then…

At this thought Lana felt her chest becoming tight, a wail of despair welling up inside her. Daryl… _fucking Daryl_. He had been trying to protecting her, foolishly attempting to divert Negan's attention away from her onto him instead. It had worked, a punch to the face would do that to anyone, but his mistake had been not understanding their adversary. A move like that? Negan had admired him for it, and it was that bold act of punching him that sealed Daryl's fate as a survivor and prisoner. To Negan that fire and defiance was opportunity, potential for the future, and so it had to be Glenn who then suffered the consequences. Daryl's attempt to protect her had sealed both his own fate, and Glenn's.

 _I don't know what kind'a lying assholes you people have dealing with, but I'm a man of my fucking word._

It wasn't until the next morning when it was all over that she saw Arat, the woman who had once been one of her closest friends at the Sanctuary. When the worst of it was over and the RV was fading into the distance with Rick inside, Lana had looked up and noticed her standing by one of the trucks. In her wildest dreams she never expected to see Arat there on a night like this, she had only ever seen her violent once, but she supposed things had changed now. Just like she had, Arat adapted to the way things changed…she wasn't who she used to be. Until that moment of seeing her there Lana never thought she'd get the opportunity to tell Arat that she was sorry for what happened the day she left, that she didn't know Vetor would hit her, that she was sorry for leaving her there. Nevertheless, it quickly became clear that she would never get the opportunity to say those things. It wasn't as simple as water under the bridge.

When the sun had risen and they were bringing Carrie back from the trees Arat walked towards where she was kneeling on the ground, and Lana had just managed to raise her head as she reached her. In hindsight she didn't know what she had been expecting, certainly not any words of kindness or comfort, but it wasn't Arat spitting in her face. She took care to stomp on Lana's hand as she walked past, the heel of her boot digging into the back of her wrist and kicking dirt up with every step. If she had the strength she would have pushed herself up and shouted the truth about Arat, about what Lana had done for her…Negan sure would take an interest in the revelation. But she had been too weak, too emotionally spent, and so Arat's most closely guarded secret remained safe.

Even when Rick and Negan came back together, Lana knew it wasn't over for them. Negan enjoyed pushing people right to the brink, giving them that final nudge over the edge before reliving them…and then they were his, only then did he have them under his complete control. Rick's defiance had nearly cost Carl his arm, and his defiance was ultimately what broke him.

It was Carrie's fate that she hadn't seen coming - she had always thought the Saviours would never harm a pregnant woman, though perhaps she was too right in this case. On one hand Carrie was the perfect leverage to keep Rick in line, but in a sick twisted way she suspected Negan thought he was helping her…clearly Alexandria didn't have a doctor at hand. A pregnant woman should have medical care, right?

When it finally was over, Lana hadn't tried to get up. She couldn't bear to raise her eyes and look at what remained of her group, to see Glenn and Abraham slumped over dead, to see the empty spaces where Daryl and Carrie ought to be. Instead she had stayed exactly as she was, leaning forward with her hands on the ground in front of her, head bowed. She recalled someone telling her to get up, their voice tight with emotion as they tried to convince her to move, but she simply couldn't. In the end the choice was made for her, and she had vague recollections of being pulled to her feet, Aaron lifting her into his arms and carrying her to a truck. She slumped over across the front seat, too exhausted to do anything other than lay there while a cold sweat broke across her brow. In the background she could hear Rick talking to her, his voice shaky as he spread a blanket over her and patted her ankle. He was reassuring her, trying to bring comfort…and all she could think about was the misery she had brought down on him by choosing to stay in Alexandria.

The engine started a minute later, but by then she was even less aware of her surroundings, unable to comprehend what was happening. As they travelled she could feel Sasha reaching down periodically to give her a rough shove. A slap to the cheek, a tug on her hair, anything she could do to stop her slipping into blissful unconsciousness, but to Lana it was a nuisance. It felt like she was empty inside, that she had nothing left for the world. Abraham and Glenn were dead, and Carrie and Daryl…God, what pleasure Negan must have taken in doing that to them.

She remembered little after that, only that soon a stranger was pestering her with questions that she was too weak to answer, followed by sharp pains in the back of her hand…and then nothing. With this memory resurfacing Lana opened her eyes and looked at her right hand, understanding the source of those sharp pains. Though it was securely taped down there was a needle in the back of her hand, and one on the inside of her wrist too. That was the only one connected to something, and her eyes followed the long thin tube upward to a clear bag of fluid hanging above her, the volume almost depleted.

Having rested a while she felt a little more coherent, and so she started looking around the room further, figuring they had made it to the Hilltop. She seemed to be inside one of their trailers, the boring grey walls definitely excluding the grand interior of Barrington House. The clock on the wall now read closer to seven o'clock, the lamp in the corner casting a soft glow behind the vase of delicate purple flowers near her bed. Though it was sparsely decorated, there was a distinct sense of peace…one she couldn't quite come to terms with.

Though she wasn't thirsty her mouth felt gross, discomfort compelling her to reach out for the glass of water on a nearby cart. Moving slowly she turned onto her side and extended her hand, feeling the dull ache in her side growing again. Taking her time she let her fingertips catch the edge of the cart and pull it closer, but the sound of it's squeaking wheels brought her movement to someone's attention.

"Easy now," a kind voice warned her.

There was movement out of sight, and shadows played on the walls before the person came into her line of sight. It was a man she only distantly recognised, though his floppy brown hair and kind features helped her stay at ease. He came closer and then picked up the glass of water for her, turning the straw around before bringing it near. With his help she took a tentative sip of water, and when she felt confident that her stomach wasn't going to reject it she took another.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice feeling strange in her throat.

"You're welcome," he murmured in reply, setting the glass down. He peered down at her now, eyes darting up to the observation monitor behind her bead, and then to the bag of fluid she was receiving. "Do you remember me?" he enquired, scrutinising her. "I'm Doctor Carson, you're at Hilltop Colony. You've been asleep for a while."

She didn't remember him much, not more than a brief introduction from the day Alexandria visited here, but she nodded her head anyway. To her surprise he was pressing a Kleenex into the palm of her hand, patting it gently, and it was then she realised her cheeks were wet. Nevertheless she didn't dry her face, and instead stared at the tissue in her hand, unsure of what to say or do next.

"Carson," she clarified, going with the one talking point that came to mind. She cleared her throat, her voice croaking from disuse. "Are you Emmett Carson's brother?"

"Yes. You know him?"

Lana nodded, recalling him as the physician at the Sanctuary. She glanced at the clock on the wall again. "How long have I been here?"

He too glanced at the clock. "A little over twelve hours now. When you got here I immediately performed surgery, and you've been resting ever since. You're going to be okay."

"Was it my appendix?"

"Yes. You developed a serious infection. Sasha said your symptoms came on slowly, you probably thought you felt unwell because of morning sickness."

At this thought she cringed, for that wasn't something she was quite ready to address. Instead she thought back to when she first awoke in the middle of the night feeling sick, her body sweating and her hands shaky without reason. She had gone looking for Carol to ask for help, but when she found her side of the bed neatly made and Tobin sleeping alone stupidly she had assumed Carol was on watch that night. She had gone back to bed and tried to ride out the nausea that was coming on, figuring she was being overly precious about morning sickness. Why hadn't she gone looking for Carol straight away? If she had then their search for her wouldn't have been so many hours behind…they might have found her.

"I had appendicitis a few years ago," she murmured, trying to fill the silence. "But it cleared up with antibiotics."

"You weren't offered surgery?" Carson asked in concern, folding his arms across his chest.

"I was, but I…I didn't have health insurance," she lied, too embarrassed to tell the truth. Vetor had encouraged her to try antibiotics instead of surgery, and she had vehemently agreed with him. The thought of having scars on her abdomen was unthinkable back then.

"Well, it's been removed now. It didn't rupture, but it wasn't as straightforward as these things usually are. I hadn't performed an appendectomy for many years," he admitted apologetically. "You're at risk for peritonitis, it's absolutely essential that you stay here at the Hilltop so that I can monitor you. I've inserted a drain into your abdomen, and it will need to be cared for."

Barely hearing any of what he said to her, Lana was trying to find the right words to ask the question on the tip of her tongue. Simply speaking them out loud was far more difficult than she had imagined, making her fumble over them. "Have I, umm…I was pregnant, before."

Though he answered immediately, that one second felt like forever. "You're still pregnant now."

Almost not daring to believe it, Lana raised her gaze and looked him in the eye. "I'm still pregnant?"

"Yes," he nodded, smiling kindly. "You've suffered no bleeding, and your urine test is still returning positive for elevated HCG levels. You're pregnant."

Still looking him in the eye she held her breath, feeling suspended in disbelief. All that pain, falling in and out of consciousness…and she was still pregnant. She couldn't believe it…she had survived last night, and still she was pregnant.

"I'm an obstetrician, so you're in luck here," he continued, filling the silence. "I'd like to do an ultrasound to make sure everything's as it should be, but it will have to be transvaginal. I don't want to put a transducer on your abdomen right now." There was a long pause, Lana staring up at the ceiling. "Lana? Can I do that ultrasound for you?"

Staring up at the ceiling, she briefly considered telling him no, that it wasn't the right time. Carol had assured her she would come with her to the first ultrasound, and Daryl too had agreed to come. Hell, he wanted to come. But though her heart ached and the empty feeling in the pit of her stomach grew, Lana knew she was going to have to do this on her own. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't what had been promised for her…but right now she had to get her shit together.

"Yes. Please."

At his request she moved onto her back and tried to get comfortable, the ache in her lower belly flaring up with every movement. Gingerly bringing her knees up she tried to straighten the hospital gown beneath the blankets, not that there was much use in trying to maintain a semblance of modesty in front of Carson. With the exception of her bra she was naked beneath the hospital gown, and there was no question as to how that came about.

"This might feel a little strange," Carson warned when he began, having talked her through the procedure. "But it shouldn't hurt. If it does I need you to tell me, okay?"

With a short nod she rested her head back on the pillow, breathing slowly as he inserted the transducer and got started. While she waited she couldn't help but wonder where Sasha was, wishing that she had thought to ask about her. Had she gone back to Alexandria? Laying there in that trailer with a doctor she barely knew made her feel incredibly lonely, especially on the heels of what happened to them. She wanted to know if everyone had made it home to Alexandria, if there was any news on Carrie and Daryl, though it was probably too early to have heard from the Saviours again. Against her will she started thinking about poor Carrie, hoping that the Saviours were treating her well, that she was safe.

"The father of the baby," Carson enquired, holding the transducer in place while his other hand tapped at the keyboard of the computer. "Do you know what his blood type is?"

"No."

"What about his family medical history? Any incidents of congenital abnormalities or genetic disorders?"

"I don't know," she said quietly, ashamed that she didn't know these basic things about Daryl. But how could she…their relationship to one another hadn't exactly been traditional.

"And your family?"

"My dad had high blood pressure. He used to take medication for it."

"And your mom? How many children did she have?"

"Four," she answered, casting her mind to anything that might be relevant. "My brother was born breech."

"And what about her pregnancies? Do you know if she had any troubles? Any multiple births?"

"My sisters were twins. Non identical," she murmured, her brow furrowing in worry. She turned to the computer, annoyed that she couldn't see the screen. "Can you see anything yet?"

Carson nodded, and anticipated what she was getting at. "I'll turn the screen in a moment, but so far only one gestational sac. I can't see a second."

She breathed a low sigh of relief, recalling that twin pregnancies were determined by the mother. There were three sets of twins in her wider family, so it was a relief.

"And what about you, Lana?" he enquired, his fingers still tapping at the keyboard. "Is this your first pregnancy?"

"Yes."

"So no miscarriages in the past?"

"No. I had an IUD for a few years, and then I was on the pill for a while after that. And then you know…I couldn't find it anymore, so I had to go without."

"And do you recall the first day of your last menstrual cycle?"

She shrugged. "Some time before Christmas."

A few minutes passed without incident, Lana struggling to wait patiently. She scrutinised Carson's every expression, trying to gauge if he seemed worries about something, but he gave nothing away. Again and again she told herself that everything was fine, trying not to feel like she would be failing Daryl if something was wrong. She wanted this whole thing to be over, but she wanted to see the baby too, even if Carol and Daryl weren't there to see it too.

"You ready to see?"

Nodding eagerly she pushed herself up on her elbows a little, holding her breath as Carson turned the computer screen around.

"Here's the key," he began, pointing to the fuzzy grey screen. "Grey is tissue like your organs and muscle, and black is fluid. So this big black shape here is your uterus…and this little grey blob is the embryo. You with me so far?"

"Yeah," she smiled, unable to believe it. She could make out exactly what he was showing her, keeping track of what she was seeing even as the picture on the screen changed a little. Reaching out she gently touched the centre of the screen, gesturing to something. "That's the heart?"

"That little flash, yes. It looks just fine, and sounds fine too," he added, tapping at the keyboard again.

At this came a sound unlike any before, an odd whooshing that reminded her of talking underwater. Listening intently she watched the screen, the faint flash in the middle of the grey blob bringing her more reassurance that everything was okay. It was astonishing that after all that pain and being so sick she was still pregnant, that the baby inside her continued to grow and survive without concern.

"Can I get a picture, please?"

"Of course," he nodded, continuing the ultrasound and trying to show her something different. "I'll get you a different angle. Might even be able to see what's left of the tail."

"How old is it?"

"Judging by measurements and your estimate of your last cycle, I'll put you at around eight weeks. Dating a pregnancy isn't an exact science," he added as though it was a tightly kept secret. "There's always some give and take."

"But it's going to be okay, right? I won't have a miscarriage?"

At this he hesitated before answering and he looked at her sympathetically. "I can see you're worried. The rule of thumb is that the first trimester is the most vulnerable," he explained. "That combined with the stress your under right now, your recovery…I must implore that you stay here at the Hilltop. Rest. Take care of yourself. What's your prenatal care been so far?"

"None," she admitted, noting he hadn't outright reassured her. "I wasn't going to keep it at first, but I started prenatals last week. I quit smoking too…well, I'm trying."

"Trying is better than not trying," he praised. "I noticed your nicotine patch, we have some more you can have. Gum too, mouth spray, hypnotherapy tapes. Whatever you need, it'll be here for you."

"Thank you," she murmured, relieved when he gently removed the ultrasound transducer, though it was disappointing that the ultrasound was over.

For a few moments she lay there resting, while Carson bustled around to print off a picture and laminate it for her. Starting to feel a little overwhelmed she very slowly pushed herself upright, looking down at the dressing over her lower right abdomen. It was securely taped down at each edge, the tape smoothed down across the pink scars from her motorbike accident, but for the first time she didn't care what kind of scar this injury left her with. She was alive and so was Daryl's baby…in spite of what happened to them all she had a lot to be grateful for.

A half hour later she was back on her feet again, the needles removed from her hand and the catheter gone. Carson had helped her up in stages, but despite her initial exhaustion she found that she was stronger than expected, and she was glad to be out of the bed. She felt the circulation returning to her limbs, getting a renewed sense of hope now that she stood on her own two feet. How long had it been since she could stand unassisted? How long had it been since her group had to carry her on a stretcher, since Aaron had to pick her up and carry her to the truck?

"Do you want some help getting dressed?" Carson offered, having loosened the ties on the gown she wore. "Sasha's outside, I can send her in if you like."

"No, thank you. I'm okay."

"I'll give you some privacy then," he said, patting her on the shoulder before turning away.

"Thank you," she said quickly, catching him before he closed the curtains around the bed. "Really, Doctor Carson…thank you."

He nodded politely, giving her a genuine smile that slowly became strained. With his hands on his hips he glanced down at the floor, taking a breath before looking up again. "I take it you know my brother, Emmett."

"Yes," she said softly, recalling him quite clearly. "I used to live at the Sanctuary…I was one of the wives," she added, not needing to clarify whose wife. "He was always nice."

"Well, that's the Carson's for you," he said lightly, looking a little happier after hearing her comment. "I'm glad I could help you, Lana. You're very welcome."

When he closed the curtain for her she slowly began to dress, slipping on the sweat pants and the too big teeshirt and coat that had been provided for her. She didn't care what it was or how well it fit, putting on clothes made her feel human again, and the simple act of putting on shoes and socks was like the final step in that transition. Doing her best to neaten her hair she took a sip of her water and then ran her tongue over her teeth, still trying to rid herself of the gross feeling she disliked.

"What's your last name?" Carson asked when she came out.

On the desk before him was the back side of the laminated ultrasound photo, on which he had neatly taken note of today's date and stage of the pregnancy. At the top was the word Baby followed by an empty space waiting for her name, his marker poised expectantly as he awaited her answer.

"Put down Dixon," she requested. Though she had no guarantee of Daryl ever seeing this photograph or the baby, just maybe there was a chance. "I think he'd like that."

"Baby Dixon it is," he nodded, completing the information before handing her the photograph. "If you'd like another copy just say the word."

"Thanks. Maybe when it doesn't have a tail anymore," she joked, beginning to feel a little more lighthearted when she looked at the picture. It was nothing more than a grey blob whose outline she only just managed to decipher, but it meant a great deal.

The night was cold when she stepped outside of the medical trailer, but an absence of any wind made it bearable. In fact, Lana drank in the cool air and pushed up the sleeves of her coat, feeling it on her skin and relishing it. Nevertheless there wasn't time to linger, not when both Sasha and Jesus were braving the cold night to wait outside for her. Upon seeing her back on her feet they came straight over, Sasha taking her by surprise by hugging her.

"I'm glad you're okay," Sasha murmured, holding her close before letting go.

"Thanks for getting me here," she said in response, and then there was a horrible moment in which they looked at one another, and what had happened to them could not be ignored. "Sasha…I'm sorry."

Holding her gaze Sasha tried to keep her face impassive, to not show what she was feeling right now, but a moment later she closed her eyes and lowered her head. She needed a moment to herself, and she had to take a measured breath before looking back up. "What happened to them is not your fault," she said firmly, though her voice wavered at the end. "None of what happened is your fault."

Though she appreciated this kindness, there was no changing the way it all felt. She was going to need a little more convincing on this matter. "I'm still sorry. W-where are they?"

"The others took them to Alexandria," Sasha replied. Her voice was tight with emotion, but she didn't look away this time. "They're home now."

For a gut wrenching moment she thought of poor Maggie, now widowed with a tiny baby who would never really know his father. She imagined her demanding to see Glenn's body, and Lana prayed that no one had showed her what happened to them, that she didn't have that memory of him in her mind. Needing something else to think about she removed the photograph of her ultrasound, and thought it felt strange to do so in that moment, Lana managed a smile.

"Carson said everything's okay," she said, showing Sasha the baby. "He wants me to stay though."

"I think that's a good idea," Sasha agreed, she too managing a smile as she looked at the photograph.

"You can stay for as long as you need to," Jesus assured her. Having to wanted to intrude he had lingered a few feet away while they spoke, but he came closer now. "Everything you need, you can get it here."

"It's okay with your leader?" she confirmed, recalling that Gregory hadn't exactly been receptive to Alexandria's first and only visit.

"It's okay with the people. Their opinion is what matters."

"Gregory's hanging on by a thread," Sasha added, passing the ultrasound back. "A lot has happened in the last week."

"Like what?" she asked in concern, casting her mind back to before the horrors of last night. "Do we know why Richard and Brea never showed?"

"Why don't you come sit down," Jesus suggested, looking weary as he showed her towards the small bonfire they had burning in the middle of their dirt road. "Have to something to eat."

"Did something happen?"

As they made their way over and sought out one of the camping chairs, Sasha nodded solemnly. "A lot happened, and not just to us."

Slowly sinking down into a chair, Lana gratefully accepted a mug of hot chocolate, not protesting when Jesus fussed by laying a blanket across her lap. Bundling up while the bonfire too warmed her, Lana sipped at the sweet drink and listened, but as Jesus delivered bad news followed by more bad news she allowed her mind to wander a little. So many things had gone wrong in a short space of time, meanwhile the consequences were slowly building upon one another…there was only one place that this was leading them, and that was to war.

War had been inevitable, they'd known that since the day Rick returned from the Kingdom and told them what he had learned of the Saviours. But now things had escalated, and the circumstances required decisive action from the three communities allied together. They had lost a great deal in the last few days alone, but it was possible they still maintained some element of advantage. Negan knew that Alexandria must know of the Sanctuary's location, that she would have given them a great deal of information, and they knew of their relationship to the Hilltop. But it was their connection to the Kingdom that they may still be unaware of, and it was this relationship that served as their crucial wild card.

Dwelling on all of this, Lana turmoiled over the idea that had come to mind, the additional wildcard she could offer her people. Surely if there was ever a time to break a promise it was now. She needed to give her people another advantage in this impending war…but could she really do it? Was she cruel enough to upheave everything she had done for certain people because this time around, she was the one who needed help?

She faced an uneasy choice, but she wouldn't be the only one.

* * *

A/N Thank you for the great response to the last chapter, I'm thrilled to bits that you all loved the twist of Carrie being taken to the Sanctuary. We're really going into non-canon territory here, but there will still be many canon elements intertwined. Thanks for the awesome reviews everyone, you have no idea how happy they made me!


	45. Chapter 45

A/N Almost didn't post this chapter today, but finished it just in time! A nice long one for you before the Season 8 Finale - enjoy!

* * *

Friday, February 27

Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner.

The only sense of time she had came from the delivery of each meal, the type of food telling Carrie how long she had been there, how many hours had passed since the last meal.

As the hours stretched and and what felt like weeks passed she tried to do what she used to, to mentally check out the way she had those four months of living on the road alone. Just herself out in the elements, covered in Walker guts and roaming with the dead. Irrevocably lost and barely surviving, the only thing that enabled her to keep going was that each day she was merely existing, not living. As soon as she mentally checked out she wasn't lonely and grieving, she wasn't scared of dying, and that simplicity had allowed her to survive alone for four months until the day Rick and his group picked her up from the side of the road. Now, a prisoner of the Saviours, Carrie had been trying to do that again, to mentally check out of what was happening to her, but she just couldn't. There was too much at stake now, she had too much to be afraid for. Besides, it was impossible to pretend she was merely existing when she literally felt life inside of her, a baby whose life literally depended on her.

It was her third day in the cell, and she was fast approaching breaking point. She was trying so much to keep up hope, but it was getting harder and harder to hold it together, and the time between visits from her captors became longer and longer. It felt like she could not go on anymore, like any moment it was all going to be over for her, that she would simply lay down and die. The anxiety was crippling, and all she could think about was the gut wrenching possibility of giving birth there, bringing her baby into the world in that tiny cell.

Despite this possibility, Carrie was clinging on to hope, comforting herself by thinking of home and imagining what was supposed to happen when the baby came. She's be safe at home, walking the streets of Alexandria to speed up contractions with Rick by her side, and when the time came he'd deliver the baby if he felt brave enough. He'd cut the cord, or maybe they'd give that honour to Carl, who wouldn't say it but desperately wanted to be involved somehow. He'd been there when Judith was born, he had witnessed her first breath…he should be there when his next sibling was born too.

Today there had been hope. A brief, fleeting hope that all too quickly came crashing back down. She had been leaning against the cinderblock wall by the bed, pillows stuffed behind her lower back to ease the ache. For hours now she had been trying to read, but none of the words would comprehend, none of them would join together in her head and make a story. Instead she had been sitting there in apathy, starting at page one and waiting for something to happen. So when an unusual sound broke her from her trance she paid attention to it, craving something out of the ordinary.

Fat Joey had been in only five minutes prior, opening the door and placing her tray of food on the floor within arms reach. Every time a person came into the cell Carrie gave them her full attention, craving any form of contact with the world on the other side of the door, even if it was the Saviours. But just like every other person Fat Joey didn't say a single word to her, his polite smile doing nothing to offer reprieve. Nevertheless she had tried talking to him, ignoring the food he brought in and instead asking when she was being released, when Negan would let her go home. But her queries fell silent when she noticed the gun he was carrying in the back pocket of his jeans. It was Rick's Colt, the revolver that had been his unwavering defence for many years even before the outbreak. She remembered him telling her about the day he purchased it, how he had scrimped and saved to be able to afford it…and now this prick, Fat Joey, had it.

The moment Fat Joey locked the door Carrie returned her attention to the book, trying with all her will not to think about Rick. She didn't have it in her to cry anymore, the grief and sadness was overwhelming, though it had to be a drop in the ocean compared to how Maggie must be feeling right now. At this thought the gut wrenching memories started flooding back to her, the sound of Negan's bat striking her group members, his cruel and sadistic laugh. Disassociating from everything, Carrie had turned her attention back to the book that was still only open to page one, trying yet again to start reading. But just as her mind settled and silence came there was an unusual sound, one she hadn't heard before.

The Saviours made no effort to keep noise down as they made their way around the bowels of the Sanctuary, walking with heavy footsteps and loud chatter, sets of keys jangling on their belts as they prowled around. So the soft sound of someone scurrying through the halls captured Carrie's interest, the change making her raise her head and look towards the door. Through the small gap she could see the shadows move, and then a moment later there was a commotion of panted breaths as someone crouched down outside.

"Carrie?" came a rattled gasp, one she recognised instantly. "Yah in there?"

She scrambled up from the bed. "Daryl!"

In her haste she knocked her book and lamp astray, her tray of food overturned, but it didn't matter. In a split second she was laying down in front of the door and peering underneath, her heart soaring when she caught a small glimpse of Daryl on the other side. She slid her hand underneath the door, scratching the top of her knuckles, and her heart felt like it would explode with happiness when she felt his hand on hers. There was little he could so other than awkwardly pat her hand, but a moment later he was shoving hers back before clambering back to his feet. The door shook and rattled, Daryl muttering under his breath when he tried the lock.

"Tha' prick left my door open," he explained, getting back down on the floor and looking underneath at her. For a few happy moments they simply looked at one another, barely able to see more than a slither, but it was enough to bring a little comfort. Nevertheless it was bittersweet, because seeing him for the first time was another reminder of what happened to them, the harsh slap of their shared reality.

"Daryl," she whispered, not knowing what else to say.

"I'm gonna find a key," he assured her, shoving his fingers under the door now. "I'll be back, alright?"

Filled to the brim with beautiful hope she touched his fingers, relishing the simple sensation. Part of her wanted to tell him to just go, to save himself and send help back for her…but at the same time she was screaming on the inside _don't leave me here_ , and then the words were coming out of her mouth.

"Don't leave me here," she begged, her voice catching in her throat. "Daryl, ple-"

"I'm comin' back for yah."

In an instant he was gone, but when she peered under the door the only thing she could see was the opposite wall. She didn't linger for even a moment, and straight away she set about preparing to run for her life, to fight. They could each carry a single bottle of water, and into her pockets she stuffed the food Joey had brought for her, an apple, sandwich, homemade potato chips and a juice box.

The wait for Daryl to return was excruciating, Carrie standing there in front of the door ready to go, fully ready to face whatever fight there was going to be. Though she tried not to dwell on it she knew that it was Daryl's life that would be more in danger, that if things went wrong today the Saviours were less likely to take any punishment out on her. If things went wrong it would be up to her to protect him, as much as she could afford to anyway.

When the door flew open to reveal Laura, Carrie had braced herself to fight her, confident that she and Daryl had the upper hand. All she had to do was get past Laura and find him, but the expression on Laura's face made her stop before she even started. She didn't look smug, but it was clear that she knew something was afoot. Holding Carrie's gaze she stepped back against the far wall, and a moment later two of the Saviours passed the doorway. Between them was Daryl, his head and arms hanging limp as they dragged him along the corridor. The only sign of life from him was the way he tried to lift his leg, attempting to stand up and regain his footing, but he appeared to give up and let them drag him.

"Please, let m-"

"No," Laura said firmly, cutting her off before she could make her request. She stepped forward now, reaching for the door to close it.

"Please, Laura!" she said loudly, trying to appeal to her. "Just let me stay with him, please!"

It took only one rough shove of the shoulder to make Carrie step back into her cell, and then Laura was slamming the door shut. Stuck right back where they were before Carrie felt tears welling up in her eyes, her chest aching with despair at the thought of Daryl's state. They had caught him, and he had received the punishment fitting for a prisoner trying to flee.

"You're not going to escape this place," Laura said from the other side of the door, fumbling with the lock. "There are too many of us. You wouldn't even make it outside."

A few moments later than horrible song started again, and though its volume wasn't intrusive upon Carrie in her cell she knew it was entirely different for Daryl. She pictured him in that cell alone, covering his ears to find relief, or as she suspected simply sitting there and taking the torture, trying with all his might to withstand their attempts to break him. The disappointment was crushing, hope snatched from them before they could even taste it. He hadn't made it, and the Saviours wouldn't make today's mistake again…this had been their only chance.

Later that evening Laura returned for her, going about the same routine they had for the last few days. Roughly an hour after each meal she was handcuffed and escorted out of her cell, up two flights of stairs, down a long corridor and then through a door to the world outside. It was there in that pathetic courtyard that she was told to stretch her legs, to soak in the vitamin D and fresh air while Laura stood guard over her. Three times a day without fail she was taken out, and then three times a day she was taken straight back to that cell and locked up again. They probably thought they were being kind to her, that allowing her out of the cell was an act of care, but it had in fact been what started to break her.

Being outside was a relief. The walls of that cell seemed to draw closer and closer with every passing minute, and the ability to pace back and forth while the sun warmed her face had been wonderfull…but then it was over. One hour was all she was allowed, one hour that seemed to go faster and faster every time. Then she had to make that excruciating walk back to her cell, back to the prison in which her baby would be born, and it got harder to hold herself together. That night when Laura told her it was time to go back in she felt herself crumbling, unable to take it anymore. She couldn't go back in there, she just couldn't. Her emotions already heightened from what had happened to Daryl she refused to go back, begging and pleading with her captor for just a little more time, for just five more minutes. But like always Laura was impatient with her, perhaps resenting her newfound task of babysitting the prisoner.

"Please, Laura," she breathlessly gasped, barely able to get the words out. Tears were streaming down her face as they descended the final flight of stairs to the basement cells. Already the walls felt like they were closing in on her, like they would crush her at any moment. "Don't put me back in there."

They walked past the cell that had to be Daryl's, the only one with a CD player sitting right outside the door. She pictured him that afternoon, the certainty in his voice when he assured her he would come back for her, and then the sight of him being dragged back to his cell. "Can't I go in with Daryl?" she asked, and not for the first time. "I won't cause any trouble."

"No."

"I need to see him. Please, I need to make sure he's alright."

At this Laura rolled her eyes, roughly yanking her when she tried to turn back towards Daryl's cell. "He's not alright," she said snidely. "He got the shit beat out of him today. He'll be pissing blood by now."

Too quickly they reached Carrie's cell, and it was then she started feeling herself approach breaking point. She grabbed at the door frame, planting her feet to the floor and refusing to budge until Laura had listened to her, until she understood.

"When are you letting us go?" she asked, and not for the first time. Laura just raised her eyebrow, unsympathetic to her. "Look at me, I could go into labour any day."

"We have a doctor."

"I need to go home!"

Laura just looked at her incredulously, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Shit…they haven't told you yet."

"Told me what?" she questioned, still standing in the threshold, clinging to the door frame. "What i-"

Cutting her off, Laura gave her shoulder a rough shove, making her stumble back into the cell as she advanced on her. "Listen up, bitch. Any plans you had for a happy little life with your husband and new baby, they're gone," she said cruelly, enjoying the ways Carrie's features fell in despair. "This is where you live now. This is where your baby is going to be born, and I'm counting down the days until I get my hands on it and don't have to fucking deal with _you_ any more!"

Backing away when she came closer, Carrie found herself fixating on only one part of what she had said. _I'm counting down the days until I get my hands on it_. It was those words that struck her the most, and quickly she felt her anxiety and turmoil turning into something else entirely. "You're not taking my baby," she said lowly, meaning every word. "I won't let you."

Laura laughed at her, taking another step closer. "You're gonna give birth in this room, then Carson will patch you up and ship your ass home before the epidural wears off. What are you gonna do to stop us?"

For a moment Carrie simply stared at her blankly, and then without warning she felt a change come over her. No longer was she overcome with sadness or grief, it wasn't even fear that made her snap. She was fucking pissed, outraged that they intended to do this to her baby, that they thought they could get away with it.

Without needing to think twice she charged at Laura, loving the look of horrified shock on the bitch's face. Screaming at her unintelligibly she dug her fingernails into her face, one hand clawing at her eyes while the other drew blood from her cheek, yet Laura fought back pitifully. Even when Carrie kicked at her and shoved her against the door frame she couldn't fight back, she wouldn't risk hurting her.

"You're not taking my baby!" she shouted, stumbling as Laura tried to keep her at bay. But she refused to back down, instead frantically grabbing at her, yanking fistfuls of her hair from the tight bun she wore. She could see the look in Laura's eyes, the panic with which she closed her eyes and turned her head away, trying to protect herself. "You fucking hear me? You're not taking my baby!"

"Stop!" Laura protested, managing to seize hold of her wrist. "Fuc - would you fucking stop!"

There was no way she could stop now, even if she wanted to. The brief look of panic in Laura's eyes is what spurred her to keep going, that and the injustice of what she was fighting against. She remembered that awful morning the Saviours had taken her, the way she stumbled backwards and found herself backing straight into Laura's arms. As she kicked at her again and again she felt like she was fighting all of them, that there was finally something she could do. Again and again she lunged at her, trying to yank her wrist out of her grip and gouge those eyes right out of their sockets. But it could only last for so long, for this was a fight she was never going to win.

"Fuck!" Laura shouted angrily, having successfully managed to shove Carrie away.

For a split second they stood on opposite sides of the cell, both of them panting for breath before Carrie lunged again, but she was too slow. In an instant Laura had stepped out, managing to get the heavy door closed just enough to stop Carrie reaching her a second time. But even a closed door wasn't enough to stop her frenzy, and as if she wasn't heavily pregnant she raised her foot and kicked at it, satisfied when it opened just a fraction. It wasn't locked yet, and she could hear Laura on the other side still swearing, fumbling with the key.

"I will kill you if you touch my baby!" she screamed at the door, kicking it again. "You hear me Laura? I will fucking kill you!"

On the other side of the door she could hear a murmured conversation, and in the distance she heard a shout from Daryl too, but she still hadn't yet heard the lock click. She kicked the door a third time, even more infuriated when the conversation on the other side didn't lapse, when Laura ignored her. Seething, Carrie snatched up the camping lantern from the ground and turned back to the door, panting for breath.

"Come in here and let me say it to your face!"

At her challenge the door slowly opened, but when the saw the silhouettes waiting for her she took a hasty step backwards and fell silent. Her heart sank as she realised what a mistake she had made. While Laura stood against the far wall of the hallway clutching her face, Dwight and another Saviour stood in the threshold looking in, neither looking particularly patient.

"That's enough," Dwight said roughly, raising one hand in front of himself. "Calm down, or we will make you calm down."

Before she could even consider nodding in cooperation the other Saviour took a step towards her, and his sheer bulk and malevolent expression aroused a visceral overreaction. From over her shoulder she swung the camping lantern down over the man's head, the glass shattering and the metal making a satisfying thud. The lantern clattered noisily to the floor, and too far gone to back out now Carrie lunged for anything else she could get her hands on.

"Enough!" Dwight commanded, following her inside and fending off the objects that came flying. "I sai - stop!"

"Let me out of here!"

When the other man came up behind him, blood streaming down his face and making his eyes look wild with malice Carrie reacted again, feeling herself being backed further and further into the corner, and not just metaphorically. Her last ditch effort she picked the plastic bucket that served as her toilet and threw it as hard as she could, the man snarling as he raised his hands to protect himself again.

"You cunt," he spluttered in outrage, dripping wet with urine. "Calm the fuck down!"

"Let me out," she repeated hoarsely, and then that god awful song started up again, drowning out the sound of Daryl yelling from afar. "Now! Let me out of here!"

Enraged by what she had done the Saviour lunged at her, ignoring Dwight who simultaneously lunged at him. A disorganised scuffle ensued between the three of them, the Saviour wrestling a book out of her hand before seizing a fistful of her loose hair. It was at this moment she submitted, hands reaching down to protect her belly while she tried to move away from him.

"David, let her go man!" Dwight was shouting over the music, his instructions echoed too by Laura. "She's had enough."

 _…the world is but a treat when you're on Easy Street._

Having made the mistake of managing to turn her back on the Saviour she found a thick arm looping itself around her neck, and now she had to fight back again. She knew what it was to be strangled, even months later she could feel Pete's hands around her throat as he tried to kill her, and that wasn't the first time she'd ever felt it at the hands of someone who wanted to harm her. Pressure tightened around her neck, but still she managed to draw enough breath to scream, her hands flailing behind her to claw her way to freedom. Her feet were slipping out from under her, yet she scrambled to fight him off.

"Let me go!" she pleaded, kicking at the wall to make him stumble. "Please. I'm sorry."

 _Yeah we got a front row seat to a life that can't be beat when you're on Easy Street._

"Let her go, David. She's had enough!"

"I'm lettin' her breathe," he assured them impatiently, growling into her ear. "You gonna stop now?"

"Yes," she gasped, though her hands didn't stop grabbing at him, clawing at sleeve of his shirt. "Get off me…get off me."

"You have to stop," he said firmly, turning away so that they faced into the cell. "Stop fighting, and I'll let you go."

While a cry of despair strained in her throat she tried to do what he instructed. She could feel the baby inside her, kicking at her and moving around, and she wondered if it knew something was happening. It could hear her, that much she knew, but did it know she was scared? Did it know she might be fighting for both of their lives? At this thought she felt her body going still, complying with David's instructions to stop fighting him.

"Good girl," he crooned, patting the side of her belly. "You do know how to do what you're told."

Very gently he began to lower her down, her knees hitting the edge of the mattress, but he made no move to release her. Instead he lay her down on her side with his arm still around her neck, one knee behind her back while the other was between her legs, presumably holding her in place. She tried to tell him to let her go, that she'd done as he asked, but her voice was frozen in her throat, and his touch made her violently lurch.

"I said that's enough," he warned. "Stop fighting me and I'll let you go."

Adrenaline was surging through her body and making her tremble uncontrollably, yet she did everything she could to stay still, to show him that she was submitting. Despite his arm around her neck she could breathe freely, and after a few deep breaths she felt his arms loosening. With a dark warning not to fight him back he slowly released her and then stepped away, allowing her to sag down onto the mattress. Every fibre of her being told her to get back up and fight, to lunge at all three of them and take them on. But instead she merely pushed herself up onto her hands, her hair forming a curtain around her face as she looked towards the door through which David was disappearing. Still waiting outside was Laura, her arms folded across her chest as she looked in at Carrie, but unlike before she didn't seem angry. Her expression was difficult to read…was that regret in her eyes?

Without warning Carrie lurched, and before she could move away she had vomited where she knelt. She gagged on the wretched taste and then stared down at the mess she had made on the mattress and pillow, the chaos of books and shattered glass all around her cell. Gagging again she pushed herself away from the vomit, panting for breath as she tried get her bearings. But before she could find somewhere safe to kneel the door slammed shut, shrouding her in darkness. There was a sharp pain in the heel of her hand and her knee, glass from the broken camping lantern, but she paid attention only to the baby, whimpering in relief when she felt it giving what she recognised as a lazy stretch.

For the first time in days Carrie was grateful for the loud music that played on loop, the volume of that dreadful song allowing her to cry in privacy.

* * *

Sitting on the cold concrete floor outside her cell Carrie was silent and still. She had vomit on her leggings, her shirt and hair were covered in her own urine after her scuffle with David…but it was over now.

Two men had been brought down to clean up the cell, their strange sweatpants and shirt looking like a uniform, and like Carrie they were silent as they went about the task of cleaning up her cell. Everything including the soiled mattress and bedding had been removed, and they were in their now cleaning up the broken glass, the fragments tinkling against one another as they were swept away. Standing outside was Dwight, reminding the workers to get every last shard, to leave nothing behind.

Trying to get comfortable Carrie shifted her position on the cold floor, though there wasn't much she could do when her right hand was cuffed to her left ankle. It was very effective at disabling her, meaning that about the best she could do was shuffle along the floor on her ass, and even that wouldn't get her very far if she was stupid enough to make a run for it. Nevertheless Laura was still standing guard over her while they waited for the cell to be cleaned, her arms folded across her chest and her face set in her usual scowl.

Despite her lack of success in the whole venture, Carrie was immensely satisfied by the state she had left Laura in. Her cheek and lower eye lid were swollen and inflamed from where she clawed at her, but it was the blood that dripped from her left nostril that made her most proud. In the scuffle she had torn out her nose ring, probably ripping it clean through the nostril judging by how much it had bled. It had dripped all down the front of her grey shirt, made worse by her flimsy attempts to clean it up.

Somewhere in the nearby halls she could hear _that_ voice, Negan.

No doubt her antics had come to his attention, summoning him from wherever he was to come and attend to the drama. Despite his proximity Carrie didn't feel scared, and not due to a naive sense of bravery…now she was even more certain than ever they they were not going to hurt her. Even when David put her in a choke hold he had allowed her to breathe freely, they had done all they could to defend themselves and restrain her without actually fighting back. Laura had borne the brunt of it, and no doubt she had her own rage and anger pent up inside, but none of it had come out. They really weren't going to hurt her…at least not while she was pregnant.

At this thought she felt her body turn cold, her lips numb from how tightly she pressed them together. Laura had been taunting her, that's all…that's all she was doing, and Carrie repeated that mantra to herself again and again. The thought that they were keeping her alive only long enough for the baby to be born was too difficult to really comprehend. The thought of her child being born to a world without her was too much. If they tried to take it away she would die, surely she would die.

She was broken from her thoughts by the arrival of someone new, their appearance so different to the other Saviours that she actually looked up. It was a grey haired man at least in his sixties, his tall height and lankiness only emphasised by the long white coat he wore. As if he was a walking stereotype he carried with him a black leather bag, and hooked through the handles was a stethoscope.

He approached slowly, scrutinising her before turning around to David. "How about a chair? Might be a little more dignified."

Getting the hint David left to fetch a chair, dodging a third worker who had arrived with a mop and bucket for the cell. While they waited Carrie stared at the opposite wall again, refusing to look this doctor in the eye though she knew he was here for her benefit. She could still feel the baby moving inside of her, she knew that it was alright. He ought to be checking on Daryl rather than her.

When David returned with a chair he set it beside her and then crouched down, fumbling with his set of keys to open the handcuffs. But he took his sweet time doing it, and Carrie suspected that he was really looking down the front of her shirt, or trying to at least. She too suspecting what he was up to, Laura seemed to sigh impatiently before coming forward.

"I got it," she said bluntly, making herself clear.

Attempting one last glance down her shirt David stepped away, allowing Laura to take his place and remove the cuffs from Carrie's hand and ankle. As if her attack had never happened she gently helped her to her feet, helping bear her weight when her legs shook beneath her.

"Hey," Laura whispered to her. "Was he-"

"Go fuck yourself," Carrie said bluntly, looking her in the eye. Making her disdain clear she pushed Laura away, staring her down as she slowly took a seat on the chair set out for her.

Awkwardly watching on, the doctor cleared his throat before setting down his bag and opening it. "I'm Doctor Carson," he said politely, rummaging around his supplies. "When's your due date?"

Carrie gave no answer, and instead turned her gaze back to the opposite wall.

"Can you tell me how many weeks you are?" he asked next, peering at her in concern. "Has your pregnancy had any complications?"

 _Yes_. Still she said nothing.

Carson turned to Laura. "Has there been a head injury no one told me about?"

"No. Hostile is her usual state."

Turning back to his bag he continued rummaging around inside. "Understandable, one would think," he murmured, his voice so low that only Carrie could hear. But then he seemed to lose his patience, and he repeated his earlier questions. "Come on now. When's your due date?"

"Mid-March," she answered lowly, not wanting to antagonise anyone else today. She was done with it all…she needed to lay her head down and rest.

"Any complications?"

"It's breech."

At this he paused a moment, but then nodded his head. "It's your second pregnancy, that'll be easy enough to address," he assured her, slipping a blood pressure cuff around her right arm.

"It's my first."

She could feel him watching her as he began pumping up the cuff, his eyes darting from the pressure gauge back to her face. "That changes things, but it can be addressed. Though perhaps tomorrow would be a better time."

For a few minutes there he fussed around, taking her blood pressure and pulse, giving her a general once over and putting some wide bandaids over the minor cuts she had sustained. When he placed his hands on her belly he didn't ask for her permission, though he did at least make the pointed suggestion that David give them a little privacy. With him gone he lifted her shirt and began feeling her belly, his fingers pressing all around to feel the baby, to gauge where it was. The entire time he was doing this he was silent, as was she for that matter, but it was unnerving. In comparison to Denise with whom she liked to chatter with at length, Caron's bedside manner left a lot to be desired.

"I don't suppose you'll allow me to do a more thorough examination," he asked, taking a portable foetal monitor from his bag. "I'd like to at least check if you're beginning to dilate."

"No."

Apparently accepting her answer he continued as he was, turning on the monitor before applying a little gel to the end of the transducer. When he placed it on the side of her belly and pressed in she was holding her breath, both nervous and eager to hear that everything was okay with the baby. She could feel it moving inside her just like normal, and she hadn't taken any kind of blow to her belly during the scuffle, but still she held her breath. When the familiar sound of the heartbeat became audible she slowly released her breath, her nerves easing when Carson turned the volume up a little louder. As they sat there and listened Carrie glanced up at Laura, the moment feeling ruined by the way she was watching on, trying to pretend she wasn't interested. Did she really mean what she had said earlier? Was she really doing this just to get her hands on the baby?

"Everything sounds just fine. A nice, strong heartbeat."

Behind them two of the workers were returning with a new mattress and bedding, and the one who had been mopping now hastily rushed to dry the floor. Literally tearing the shirt off his back he used it to start drying, another worker doing the same and rushing in to help. All the while Dwight was lingering there with them, watching their every move and ensuring they didn't cut corners. Periodically he glanced over his shoulder to check on her too, but when he noticed her shirt was raised he quickly averted his eyes and didn't look back.

"Are you sure you won't have that examination?" Carson asked again, before lowering his voice. "It could take an hour at least."

Though she understood what he was offering, refuge from having to go back into the cell, Carrie shook her head again. Taking her refusal in his stride he wiped cleaned the gel from her skin and then pulled her shirt back down, making quick work of packing up his things and closing his bag. He departed without saying goodbye, neither of them feeling particularly concerned with pleasantries. Suspecting that Negan wasn't far away she watched as Carson turned the corner, the shadows on the walls and low murmur of voices confirming her suspicion. Negan was here, but for whatever reason he was choosing not to show himself.

"We're good here," Dwight said to Laura, gesturing into the cell from which the workers were emerging, having deposited the mattress and bedding. "She can go back in."

"You got this?" David asked, having come back now.

Looking at him from the corner of her eye Laura declined his unspoken offer to help. "We're fine," she said, clicking her fingers at Carrie as though she were an animal. "Get up. Take your jacket off."

Waiting until David and Dwight had departed she slowly rose to her feet and removed her jacket, passing it to Laura and then her outer shirt too. She tossed them aside and then looked Carrie up and down, telling her to turn and face the wall. Continuing to cooperate she placed her hands on the wall and tolerated the way Laura thoroughly patted her down, not satisfied that she had nothing concealed beneath her tank top and leggings. At least the way she cupped Carrie's breasts to check she had nothing hidden underneath them didn't make her skin crawl, and so she put up with it.

"Shoes."

At this instruction Carrie sighed…she was too tired for that. Keeping one hand against the wall she slowly started lowering herself to the floor, stopping halfway to catch her breath. For the last month or so her feet felt like an awfully long way down, and that wasn't changing now. Noticing her struggle Laura's impatience reared its ugly head again, but she conceded.

"You try anything, they're right around the corner," she warned before she crouched down and removed her sneakers and socks for her. Tossing them aside also she made Carrie turn around, and then made a point of running her hands through her hair to inspect every inch of it. "Open your mouth…show me under your tongue."

"What are you looking for?"

"Glass," she answered, turning on her flashlight and shining it at her face. "Because sure as shit if you had a shard, you'd use on me."

"I can't deny that," she admitted before opening her mouth wide and lifting her tongue.

Satisfied enough, Laura stepped back and then pointed into the cell, clicking her fingers again. "Get in."

Unlike earlier, this time Carrie did as she was told without fuss. But this time felt different, almost as if her failed attempt to resist them had been a small slither of empowerment. She wasn't just rolling over, she was trying to resist them no matter how futile it was. Whatever it took she would protect herself and her baby, though in the back of her mind she knew that if they really did want to take it from her there was nothing she could do to stop them. There were too many of them, and she was powerless.

A new mattress and clean bedding had been put back into the same spot, two comfortable pillows and thick blankets provided just as before. In the corner was the same bucket and lid she had been using since her arrival, accompanied now by two fresh rolls of paper and a new case of bottled water. But unlike before there were no books or old magazines for her to pursue, and nor was there a camping lantern to provide her light. Resigned to the punishment her behaviour had brought upon herself she slowly sat down on the mattress and leant against the wall, watching Laura through the open door. She was inspecting her shoes and clothing, scouring every pocket and fold of material. Satisfied that she wasn't hoarding a shard of glass she tossed them back into the cell one by one, and despite her win she couldn't help but say one last thing.

"I'm hoping for a son," she sneered as she began to close the door. "Maybe I'll name him Negan Junior."

* * *

Saturday, February 28

In a state of suspended shock, Rick was barely able to comprehend what he had almost done to his child. Beside him Carl lay in the dirt, his breaths shallow and quiet as if trying to evade detection from a predator, while Rick knelt there panting for every breath. He was listening to Negan but not quite hearing him, watching on numbly as Dwight wrenched Daryl to his feet and dragged him away.

"He's mine now," Negan said lowly, crouching down beside him yet again. "You still wanna try something, not today not tomorrow?"

Feeling like he was on auto-pilot, Rick shook his head. "No."

"You fucking try something, I reserve the right to cut pieces off of him and then watch you gag and puke as I feed 'em to you. Got it?"

"Yes."

Looking up only when he felt Negan's hand on his shoulder, Rick forced himself to face him again, to endure the last moments before they finally let them be. But Negan wasn't finished with him yet, his malevolent smile having returned as he leaned in closer. "She's mine now too."

He didn't need to ask what this meant, Negan's earlier attention to Carrie explained now. "No," he said quietly, barely holding back a howl of despair. "Please. You can't."

"Oh, but I am."

"Please," he begged pitifully, lowering his head. "Please…you can take me. She's pregnant."

"And good job with that," Negan taunted, squeezing his shoulder. "I bet you love seeing that big belly and knowing you're responsible for putting it there, am I right? Well, she's mine now too."

With a pitiful sob he looked up just as Carrie realised what was happening, forced to watch helplessly as she scrambled to her feet and backed away, trying to flee. But the Saviours had planned this all along and were ready for her, and before Rick could do anything to change their mind they were tying her hands behind her back, showing her no mercy when she cried. He rose to his feet and started towards her, certain that there was something he could do…every fibre of his being told him to lunge at her, that he could fight them all off singlehandedly…but he couldn't move.

"Please, don't," Rick pleaded, turning around to Negan. "You can take _me_. I'll go with you."

"This is for her own good," Negan declared, clasping him on the shoulder. "I think we can both agree that she's safer with me than with you."

"You can't take her!" he begged hoarsely, desperation seeing him raising his voice. "Please."

Still impatient with him, Negan stepped forward and grabbed him by the jaw yet again, the motion enough to force him into submission. He leaned in close as his mouth twisted into a snarl, his eyes filled with cold malice the likes of which he had surely never seen before.

"Do not make me teach you another lesson," he growled under his breath, tightening his grip on Rick's jaw. "I will stick my knife into her belly, drag it right across and let her watch that baby fall right out of her."

He felt his knees buckle, these words rendering him paralysed with terror, because even though he could barely fathom that threat Rick believed him, believed that he might do it. Negan looked at him in disgust before shoving him away, and as he watched the Saviours escorting Carrie to one of their cars he sank down to his knees with a low cry. She was looking at him in silence, and even after all they'd been through he'd never seen that look of dread in her eyes.

All he could do was say that he was sorry…he wasn't even strong enough to tell her that he loved her, to impart words of comfort to her as they took her away. In that moment he felt like nothing more than an empty shell, an old man from whom life had taken everything from.

Over the days that followed he replayed that moment again and again, torturing himself with it, for he was certain there was something he could have done. There was some kind of perfect solution, the precise combination of words or actions that would have changed Negan's mind, yet it evaded him. In the few hours that he slept since then he found himself chasing Carrie down, pursuing that car endlessly until he finally caught up to it, wrenching the door open and diving inside to find her…but she was never there.

When he awoke Saturday morning he was laying on his left side, staring at the wall beside his bed. He couldn't face the sight of what was behind him, the empty space in the bed that Carrie should occupy. This had been how he slept for the last four nights, or more accurately how he had spent the hours laying awake tormenting himself. The bed was enormous without Carrie there with him, without her mountain of pillows she needed to get comfortable and her frequent trips to the bathroom that occasionally roused him.

Last night had been no different to the others since. His only company was Judith, who had recently grown tall enough to reach the door knobs and let herself in and out of bedrooms throughout the night. Every night since Rick's return she had awoken and come into their bedroom as normal, and every night she was equally confused to find Carrie's side of the bed empty. The first night Rick had turned over and watched his daughter wandering around in the darkness, sucking her thumb as she looked for her mother in the bathroom and walk in closet. She would call her name in confusion, the same way she did every morning when they came down to the living room and she wasn't there either. Only when her sleepiness started getting the better of her did she come back to Rick's side of the bed, reaching up and tugging on his arm. It was then he would bring her into the bed on his side, would stroke her hair and settle her while she asked about Carrie again.

This morning Judith was being surprisingly patient with him. While he lay in bed staring at the wall, Judith was waiting quietly for him to get up. At eight thirty in the morning it was hours past the time she had normally eaten breakfast, yet she sat next to him in the bed, waiting while she occupied herself by pulling at the threads of his shirt. They'd had a rough day together yesterday, one he felt horrible about. He had lost his temper and yelled at her, and after only ever needing gentle discipline she was startled by it. Her misdeed had been insignificant, but at his yelling she had burst into tears right there on the spot, her lower lip wobbling as she looked up at him and cried.

Regretting how harsh he had been, Rick felt sick to his stomach at how he had upset her. He felt even worse when she rushed over and reached her arms up for him, needing his comfort even though he had upset her in the first place. While she cried big, fat tears onto the front of his shoulder he apologised again and again, kissing the crown of her head and feeling like the lowest piece of scum to ever walk the earth.

Looking at her now, he observed the way she patiently waited for him to get up and attend to her needs. When she noticed him looking at her she held his gaze, a warm smile creeping over her face. She removed her thumb from her mouth.

"Go' morning," she said sweetly, enunciating the second word very clearly.

"Good morning, Judy Pie." He reached out and stroked his hand over her brown curls, recognising Lori's features that seemed more and more prominent in moments like this. Though Judith had her more tender moments and was usually content to sit quietly, she was also rowdy and liked her voice to be heard by all. "Toast for breakfast."

It wasn't a suggestion or an offer, but a statement. No longer did Judith have the luxury of choosing what she'd like for breakfast. In three days the Saviours were going to turn up and expect one hell of a tribute, for Rick wasn't deluding himself into believing that half really meant half. For now they were stuck, with no choice other than to fully cooperate and simply survive the next encounter in tact. That mean rations stricter than they'd even been before.

"Honey. Please," she requested, enunciating again.

Having her agreement without protest, for yesterday it had taken twenty minutes to convince her they genuinely didn't have any oatmeal, Rick slowly pushed himself up. His body felt old and weary, his energy levels depleted. Hell, all of him was depleted…he felt empty inside, like he had nothing left. Nevertheless he somehow managed to pull himself out of bed once again, just like he had in days previous.

When he made it downstairs he was unsurprised to see that Carl was nowhere to be found. He hadn't been home much since they returned to Alexandria with two of their people dead and two kidnapped. Rick didn't blame him for not wanting to be around, for needing his personal space, he didn't even worry about where he was. Right now there he was nothing he could do to control his son's behaviour, he simply had to let it all play out. While Rick felt empty and depleted Carl was the opposite, filled with white hot rage, ready to take action against the Saviours. Thankfully they only needed to fight it out once, and argument that Rick could have sworn almost drove his son to breaking point. Carl wanted to act straight away, to take swift and decisive action to not only get Carrie and Daryl back, but avenge the murders of Glenn and Abraham.

But they couldn't do that…not yet.

It was harder to do nothing rather than act, which was the very notion that Carl was struggling with most. But that was the reality that faced them right now. Alexandria's hands were tied, for the next few days at least. Maybe once the Saviours had been and gone there would be some breathing room, but until then they had to sit tight and wait it out.

As he prepared Judith's breakfast for her, he noted that Carl hadn't eaten…in fact, he couldn't recall the last time he knew for sure that his son had eaten a meal. On that note he too hadn't eaten much lately, and not because they were rationing it for the Saviours. Taking care of his body by nourishing it seemed to foreign to him now, like it was something extravagant and unnecessary. Even if he was eating, surely he wouldn't be able to keep it down. How could he possibly keep it down when he had those images in his mind? Days later he could still hear the sickening sound of the baseball bat hitting the flesh of Glenn and Abraham's skulls, could feel the splash of blood across his cheek…in his hand he felt the smooth wooden handle of his hatchet, the weight of it as he raised it and prepared to cut off Carl's arm.

What would have happened if Negan let him do it? Would Carl have died? Would he have ever been able to forgive him for so irrevocably maiming him? One thing he knew for sure was that he couldn't have ever forgiven himself, not in ten life times.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense that Carl didn't want to be at home, that he couldn't look him in the eye.

Rick's stomach was turning by the time he served Judith her breakfast, and while she happily started to eat he took a seat at the island counter and waited patiently. Through the kitchen window he looked to Maggie's house next door, the bedroom shades drawn for privacy. He was getting a new insight into what it was like from everyone else's perspective when Lori died, to feel the instinct to help but be completely unable to do so. When Lori died no one knew what to say to him, though many had tried. Now the tables were turned, and it was him who wanted to offer comfort to a widow, him who was desperately searching for the right thing to say. But he knew there was no solution, there was no perfect combination of words that would offer comfort.

He kept telling himself that was the reason he hadn't faced Maggie, that he knew there was nothing he could do. In reality he was a coward, too scared to really face their collective losses lest it be the end of him. Right now he was holding himself together, and didn't think he could keep doing that if he had to face Maggie's grief again. Telling her had been agonising enough, as had been telling her that she couldn't see her husband's body. He couldn't bear to subject her to that, but she had insisted, refusing to hear any argument against it. With no choice but to allow it he had taken her into the RV where Glenn and Abraham were laid out on each of the beds, a sheet already covering their bodies. He pulled back the sheet only enough to show Maggie his hand, allowing her to see for herself that it was really him. Having been in a state of suspended disbelief until that moment Maggie sank down to her knees beside him, trembling as she reached out and placed her hand over his, and the contrast of her pale skin against Glenn's blood stained hand was almost too much. Staying there with her Rick stood in the threshold of the bedroom, his eyes trained on the floor between his feet so that he didn't have to face what had happened to them.

"Did they really take Daryl and Carrie?"

By his best judgement they'd been there almost an hour, and by now her raw sobs of grief had eased into painful silence. "Yes," he quietly answered, almost unable to get that single syllable out.

"Then we need to get ready," she said hoarsely, entwining her fingers with Glenn's. "We have to fight them."

To this he could say nothing. He wasn't ready yet to speak on the subject…he didn't know what to do. But to his relief distraction came in the sound of a crying baby, Herschel. His cries became louder before there was a polite tapping on the RV's door, Enid announcing herself to those inside.

"There's no more breast milk left," she whispered apologetically, bouncing Herschel again to keep his cries at bay. Her eyes were red and swollen too, but she was trying to hold the fort at home. "I can make some formula, but he re-"

"No," Maggie called out from the bedroom, having overheard them. She was looking over her shoulder to them, but when she started to get up she came to a stop, not yet ready to leave. "He's not having formula. Bring him to me."

For a moment Rick hesitated, instinct telling him to keep that precious baby far away from the misery inside, but he wasn't about to argue with her. Seeing Enid's reluctance to come in he came down and took Herschel from her, but despite his familiarity and love for Glenn's son he could barely look at him. Instead he just made quick work of bringing him to his mother, all the while wondering if he would ever see his own child, the third he had yet to meet.

Taking him, Maggie tearfully apologised for her absence while Herschel started to cry again, grabbing the front of her shirt. Ravenous with hunger he quietened only when Maggie pulled aside her clothing and brought him to her breast, too young to comprehend what had happened, that his life was forever changed. Once they were both comfortable Maggie reached back up to the bed again, taking Glenn's hand and continuing to hold it. It was at this sight that Rick couldn't take it anymore, forcing him to leave before he lost control in front of her. He paused long enough to speak to Michonne outside, to instruct that she not allow Maggie to lift the sheet, and then he left. Near the church he joined Rosita and Eugene who were already digging the grave for Abraham, and he silently took the shovel from Aaron who had started on Glenn's. This was a grave he had to dig, without help…without Glenn he would have never made it back to Carl and Lori, he wouldn't be where he was today.

That first night there wasn't the slimmest chance of him getting a good night of sleep. Since it had happened he kept telling himself that they were doing the right thing by laying low, that all they needed to do was wait for Negan to arrive in one week and then negotiate. But he couldn't do it…he couldn't wait. The empty bed beside him was a cruel reminder that they had lost more than Abraham and Glenn, that there was still so much at stake. He couldn't stand the gut wrenching image of Carrie being imprisoned at the Sanctuary, terrified of what was going to happen to her. And Daryl, he too imprisoned, stabbed a week ago and now shot…was he even still alive? How long would they be kept there at the Sanctuary? Carrie…would she be forced to give birth there, to bring their baby into the world under such extreme circumstances? It was this thought that broke him, that drove him to do something that could have gone so very wrong.

He left Alexandria early the next morning, heading down to the gates with a set of car keys and no real idea of what he was going to do. As if she too had spent the night staring at the ceiling Rosita was waiting for him down there, though she at least had the foresight to have some of plan in mind. They had their suspicions as to what the Saviours were up to right now, suspicions that were quickly proved true. They had made it five miles out before encountering them, forced to a stop by a group of them blocking the road. It was only small, and just like the first they encountered Simon was there too, waiting for them.

"Well hello there, friends," Simon greeted them as they stepped out of the car. "What brings you out to this neck of the woods?"

 _It's my neck of the woods, that's what brings me here_. Wisely he kept this thought to himself, he and Rosita exchanging a brief glance as they joined one another and made their way towards the Saviours. "I want to see Negan."

Simon looked at him in bemusement, toying with him. "And, you were just going to drive on up to the Sanctuary, were you?"

"I figured you'd be out here," he stated, not denying that he knew where the Sanctuary was. "I want to see him. Please."

"No."

This he had expected. "Then I want to see my wife."

Simon gave a light chuckle, enjoying his persistence. "Trust me on this, Rick. She's doing just fine. Daryl not so much, but she's fine."

"I'm ready and willing to deal with this now," he emphasised. "Let me see Negan, please. I can't wait a week."

"Well, you're gonna have to," he said jovially, looking around to the other Saviours who gave similar murmurs of affirmation. "Now Rick," he continued, boldly making his way right up to him. "Unless you're out here looking for some shit to give us, you really shouldn't be out here. Do you understand? You shouldn't be out here."

Impatient with all of them, Rosita stepped forward. "Take me there."

One of the Saviours gave a loud wolf whistle, jumping down from the truck and grabbing his crotch. "We'll take you there. We'll take you anywhere you like."

"I'm serious," she continued, looking only at Simon. "Take me."

Simon blinked at her in disbelief, but he played along. "Is this what you want, Rick? You'll trade us?"

Hating himself, for he was scum for even considering it, Rick nodded. He would trade Rosita for Carrie in a heartbeat, and she was willing…it had been her idea in the first place. Apparently giving the thought consideration Simon gave a great sigh and looked Rosita up and down, pursing his lips as he scrutinised her.

"Sweetheart, you're a tempting little morsel. But you're just not…her."

"I'll be anyone you want me to be," she said lowly, the mere hint of what she meant making Rick's skin crawl.

"It's not that," Simon said dramatically, making a quite a show of his rejection and the way he taunted them. "You just don't offer quite as much leverage as the woman with a belly full of his baby," he said, gesturing to Rick. "Come back to me in nine months with his baby in you, and then we can talk. Then you'll be worth something to me."

"Let's cut the bullshit," Rick said gently, trying to get them back on track. "I want to see Negan. Take me back to your place, bring him here, I don't care. I want to see him."

"How many times do I have to say it?" Simon questioned, turning around and looking at his group. "It's like he's a kid asking for candy. He won't let up."

"I'm not being unreasonable. I want to deal with this now, not in a week."

"Negan's busy. You are the least of his priorities."

"Busy with what?"

The corners of Simon's mouth curled upward, and he didn't try to hide it. "Knowing Negan, probably making sweet, sweet love with one of his wives…or yours." He leant closer, but didn't lower his voice. "I heard she's…what was the word Negan used for her?" he asked, turning around again.

"Compliant," someone suggested.

"Eager to please."

"Pussy like velvet."

"Yes," Simon declared, whirling around again. "That's the one he used. Like velvet."

"Rick," Rosita began softly, putting her hand on his elbow. "Let's go."

"No Rick, no!" Simon moaned as they began to walk away. "Come on friend, stay a little longer. We can tell you all about her."

Grateful that Rosita had the presence of mind to know when to walk away, Rick followed her lead and returned to the car, bitter disappointment growing inside of him. He didn't quite know what he had expected to arise from this, he hadn't really thought they'd let him see Carrie, but had hoped that seeing Negan again wasn't so much of a long shot. For about a minute he and Rosita sat there in the truck looking at the Saviours, coming to the terms with the fact that they were powerless. What were they going to do? Drive head first into a hail of gunfire? Get themselves both killed and exacerbate the already delicate situation? Where would that leave Carrie and Daryl? Instead they had to focus on the one thing that was in their power, which was putting on a cooperative and meek facade for the Saviours. He had to make Negan think they could be trusted, that they could be trained and come around to this way of life. All they had to do was get Carrie and Daryl back…then they could do something stupid.

"Ahh…more?" Judith enquired, showing him her empty plate. "More toast?"

Recalling that her dinner last night had been less than filling for her, Rick relented and made her another piece of toast. If he wasn't going to eat, then at least someone else should. When she had finished and was satiated he took her upstairs and dressed her, taking his time to draw out the process for as long as possible. He let her pick and chose her clothing, let her make a mess in her bedroom…he needed to pass the time. The inability to take action was excruciating, particularly when he knew exactly what it was he needed to do. Even if they could sneak past the Saviours who were still guarding every road, risking a journey to the Kingdom would put in jeopardy their only advantage. Though surely by now the Saviour's had interrogated both Carrie and Daryl, it was still possible that they didn't know about their relationship with the Kingdom. While Negan must know they were headed to the Hilltop, unable to deny their proximity and the fact they were journeying _somewhere_ , he didn't necessarily know about their other allies. That might make all the difference…that might be the advantage Alexandria needed to get Carrie and Daryl back safely.

Somehow Rick managed to waste a half hour with Judith, taking his time to get her dressed and then tidy up. It was a nice change seeing her happily playing and making a mess, to see the glint of mischievousness back in her eyes. Still wasting time he made both his own bed and Carl's too, and then began working on Judith's hair. This had been Carrie's task of late, one she enjoyed and was rather good at. Though he couldn't create the way she managed to braid Judith's fine curls the way Carrie could, he sprayed it with a little water and tried to fix it into two pony tails. All the while Judith fussed and grumbled at him, protesting when he tugged a little too hard, and she seemed to look at him in the mirror accusingly.

 _This isn't how Mom does it_.

The pony tails were lop sided on her head, one too tight and one too loose, though he had parted the hair evenly. Frustrated with himself he gently tugged the ties out of her fine hair and brushed it again, dampening it before leaving it down. Suddenly it didn't seem so important any more, and the only consideration he made was a hair clip to keep it out of her eyes. When he left Judith's bedroom he kept his eyes downcast, intentionally shielding himself from the nursery next door. Everything in there was perfect by now, simply awaiting the birth of the baby that would occupy it…a baby that might never sleep in the crib. It was too confronting to dwell on the fact that he might not meet his baby for weeks or months after its birth…he might not ever meet it.

When they went to the gardens he carried Judith on his hip, reluctant to put her down. Many had offered to babysit her over the last few days, perhaps thinking he must be busy with the plans to attack the Saviours and take back their people. But he had refused all offers, and not just because they weren't yet ready to take action. He told himself he was spending all his time with Judith so that he could ease her anxiety, provide some stability as she tried to deal with Carrie's confusing absence, but he had selfish reasons too. He was comforting himself as much as her, spoiling his daughter in ways that he normally didn't. He gave her extra bubbles in the bath and spent an hour reading her to sleep each night, he carried her on his hip when he'd normally make her walk. Right now, he needed her as much as she needed him.

The gardens had been faring well over the winter, but not needing to tend to them today it was to the livestock he gave his attention. It appeared someone else had already attended to these tasks today, but nevertheless Rick went through the motions of checking the goats and pigs had clean water, that the chicken coops were clean and warm. Despite her eagerness to get down Rick kept Judith safely on his hip, concerned about the rooster that was pretty territorial. It would only take one wrong move on Judith's part to make the rooster act in defence of his hens.

Ignoring her repeated requests to get down they moved on to the horses, and having always been a little intimidated by them Judith quietened now, happily staying close to him. He had planned to start teaching her to ride at a fairly young age, to at least get her acquainted with them, but the one and only time he had tried setting her atop of Buttons she had howled in protest. Today she was making her discomfort clear again, putting her head down on his shoulder and tightening her knees around him. Nevertheless he persevered with her, for at the very least he needed a way to pass the time.

"Gentle," he coached her, showing her how to brush down Buttons. "Just gentle brushing."

To his delight Judith willingly gave it a try, perhaps having forgotten about her first real encounter with the horse. Clutching one of the rubber combs she slowly dragged it over Buttons' coat, giving the task her full concentration. Wishing he could capture just a little of her carefree obliviousness he watched on as she leant out of his arms, completely trusting that he wouldn't let her fall.

"Nice?" she asked, looking up at him.

"She likes it," he assured her. "Good job."

Thirty minutes later Judith was happily perched atop Buttons, Rick lingering with his hands close by should she wobble. Grateful that Buttons had become so tolerant of the Alexandrians riding her, even with a young foal to be protective of, Rick thanked her with a piece of carrot he had brought from home. Nevertheless what should have been a happy moment of acquainting Judith with horseback riding was of course tinged by the circumstances. Carrie should have been there with them, standing at the fence where it was safest for her right now. Had she been there she would have had the video camera going, documenting every moment for the future.

"Rick!" someone was calling, their voice growing nearer. "Rick, are you in here?"

For a moment he considered not answering, for at the tone of their voice his heart was sinking. Something was wrong.

"What is it?"

When he heard footsteps behind him he didn't turn around, instead taking every last moment with Judith that he could. He smiled up at her, praising the way she was gently stroking Button's coat.

"They're coming," Anna announced, her voice heavy with trepidation. "The Saviours. W-we saw them on the cameras, they can't be more than a minute away."

"How many?"

"Two cars and three trucks. Big ones," she added, concerned by his lack of response. "Rick, they're coming now.

"I heard you," he said, but still he took no immediate action. Instead he took a moment to collect his thoughts, finding that he felt calmer than could be expected. The Saviours weren't supposed to be here for four more days at least. They were taking them by surprise, and no doubt that was their intention. But after all, he had asked to see Negan, hadn't he?

"Judith, it's time to come down."

"Ahh…" she complained unhappily. "One more?"

"No, not one more. Now."

When he took her back in his hands she came without too much protest, though she did whine as they backed away from Buttons, waving at her sadly. He lingered only long enough to yank on the rope that tethered the horse in place and then left, joining Anna who was waiting outside the stables. The moment he stepped out he could see the commotion that had spread across the community, watching as everyone rushed to get into position. They had choreographed and rehearsed this only yesterday, just in time for the surprise visit.

"I can take her from here. Rick," Anna said, gesturing for Judith. "I can take her from here."

He nodded, but made no move to hand over his daughter. Though he trusted Anna and his people immensely, and he knew they would protect Judith as much he would, there was always the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that his children were safest only with him. It had been that way since the day Carl was born, a feeling that lingered in the back of his mind any time he and Lori hired a baby sitter or took him to school, and it was no small wonder it still lingered there now.

"She's going to be okay," Anna said firmly, reaching for Judith again. "They're not going to hurt any of the kids. They're not going to hurt anyone."

In the distance he could hear the low rumble of a vehicle's engine, a hum that seemed to grow. Was that real, or was he imagining it? Knowing he had to face whatever it was he pressed a hasty kiss to Judith's cheek and then passed her over, ignoring the strange look she gave him. Olivia or Carol were her baby sitters, not Anna, and her expression seemed to be an effort to remind him of this.

"I'll be home soon," he assured her, giving her another kiss on the cheek. "Soon."

As he made his way up the road Enid came rushing out of Glenn and Maggie's house, clutching a diaper bag over her shoulder into which she was stuffing a light blue blanket and pack of baby wipes. "They're both in there," she assured him, gesturing to his house where the children were taking refuge. "He just needed some more wipes, that's all."

"Go, quickly," he hastened her, though grateful for the assurance.

The low hum of approaching engines was getting louder and louder by the moment, and it almost sounded as if the mufflers had been removed from the vehicles to make their impending arrival more ominous. If that was the case then it was surely working, though to his relief he was still calmer than expected. Waiting down at the gates were Eugene and Rosita, and as the vehicles outside pulled to a stop he quickly joined them there.

"Have you seen Carl?" he asked her. "Michonne?"

"He's here somewhere, I saw him climbing the walls back inside," she answered shortly. "I haven't seen Michonne all day."

Trying to brace himself for what was coming he looked over his shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of Carl somewhere. Their plan was for him to be at home with his sister, but though he had cooperated during their practice run yesterday Rick wasn't holding his breath about today.

"We did ask for this," he murmured as he looked down at his feet. "We asked to see him."

The engines had died down now, leaving in their wake a murmur of conversations and doors closing. A few moments passed, the wait for something to happen felt excruciating, but there was no relief at the sound of footsteps and a cheery whistle. The morning sun cast a silhouette on the gate, the approaching figure swinging a baseball bat up and down as they casually approached, and there was no need to second guess who it was.

"Dun dun dun, duh," Negan sang as he slowed to a stop, announcing himself. Raising the bat from his shoulder he loudly tapped it against the exterior of the gate, the sound reverberating through the frame. "Little pig, little pig. Let me in."

* * *

A/N Hope you enjoyed the chapter, Carrie's scene here is one of my favourites for her. It wasn't initially planned to go like that, it started as a simple "woe is me" update on her well being, but her character just rose up and kicked back at what was happening to her (even though it didn't work out in the end)

Next chapter, Alexandria!


	46. Chapter 46

Saturday, February 28

The silence that had once been a source of heartache and loneliness was now a haven for Carrie, for if the Saviours were leaving her alone they couldn't hurt her. She sat on her mattress leaning against the wall, her lower back supported by her pillows while her hips ached like hell. In the back of her mind she knew she needed to get up, to start walking around the cell to ease her aching hips, but she simply couldn't bring herself to do it. She had been sitting there like this since Laura had locked her in last night, getting up only when she absolutely had to pee.

In the immediate aftermath she had tried to tell herself that what happened hadn't affected her, that she was stronger than Laura's mind games. But even the high and satisfaction of fighting back against her captors was only temporary, and when it faded away she felt like she was left with nothing. There was no motivation inside her, no drive to do anything other than sit there and start into the darkness of her cell.

An hour ago the door had opened, and in her peripheral vision she saw Laura entering her cell to set down a tray of food. Her arrival marked the passing of time, it was now morning, but that's all it meant to Carrie. She hadn't reached for the food, having ignored it completely when she got up to pee. But now the door opened again, light invading the solitude that meant she was safe from these mongrels. It was Laura yet again, but Carrie didn't look up…she would refuse to leave the cell, would refuse to go out into that fucking courtyard for an hour of fresh air and sunshine.

When Carrie ignored her greeting Laura sighed impatiently, and in her peripheral vision she watched as she removed her radio from her belt and raised it to her mouth. "I'm going to need more time with her. An extra twenty at least, probably more. Over."

"Copy that. Over and out."

With another great sigh Laura returned the radio to her belt and then came closer. "Why haven't you eaten your breakfast?"

At this question Carrie looked down at the tray of breakfast food next to her. She stared at it blankly, trying to come up with an explanation, but none came. This bitch didn't deserve an explanation.

"You want something else?"

Carrie blinked in surprise. Had she really heard that?

"Tell me what you want. I'll make it for you."

Still Carrie had no response, and she sat there apathetically looking at tray. The cup of oatmeal smelled sweet, like someone had gone to the effort of adding syrup. There was a slice of toast adorned with crispy bacon and a cold cup of tea, but still she couldn't find it in her to reach out for any of it.

"Look, about what I said last night," Laura started, her voice softening and taking her by surprise. "It wasn't true. I don't want your baby, and it's not going to be taken away from you, not by anyone." There was a pause, Laura looking at her expectantly. "Okay?"

 _No. Not okay_. "Why should I believe you?" she asked, her voice whisper quiet. It felt strange to use her voice, conscious that she hadn't spoken a word to anyone since last night.

Clearly uncomfortable, Laura shifted her weight between her feet. "Because Negan's going to tell you that himself. And I'm sorry," she emphasised, sounding like she meant it. "It was a bitch thing to say. Clearly it…upset you." There was another uncomfortable pause, and then she changed the subject. "Do you want me to make you something else to eat, or what?"

"I'm not hungry."

"I don't care, you're going to eat. We can do it the hard way, or the easy way. Which will it be?"

Lacking the energy to argue, Carrie chose the path of least resistance and picked up the cup of oatmeal. By now it was cold and congealed, the texture sticky in her mouth and settling heavily into her stomach, but she ate it. Meanwhile Laura stood in the threshold and waited to escort her outside, impatiently telling her to eat the toast and bacon too. When she was finished she took a sip of water, trying to use her tongue to freshen her mouth as much as she could, but after days of having not brushed her teeth there was little she could accomplish.

"You're gonna want to pee," Laura instructed, awkwardly gesturing to the bucket in the corner.

Carrie faltered, out of breath after having hauled herself up from the floor. Her hips strained, her lower back aching horribly. "Why?"

"Because we're going to be a while."

"Why?"

Rolling her eyes, Laura reluctantly told her. "We're going to Alexandria."

Her heart sank in horrified disbelief. "It's…it's been a whole week?"

"No. Three days."

Carrie blinked, trying to connect the dots. "No…N-Negan said a week. They've got a week until he comes."

"He changed his mind."

"No," she repeated, feeling panicked now. "They're not going to be ready."

"I don't decide the schedule," Laura snapped at her. "Now keep your shit together. If you lose your mind in front of your people, they're gonna get themselves killed for you. Is that what you want?"

Unable to respond to that she forced herself to comply, and with a few deep breaths she found the strength to do what Laura had asked. She pulled on her jacket and then moved into the corner where the bucket was, and though Laura wasn't watching her every move she still wished for just a small amount of privacy as she relieved herself.

"Is there anything else you need," she asked tersely once she was done.

Laura seems to really be making an effort, and so Carrie pushed things a little. "I want my bra back."

"Simon said no."

"Simon's not nine months pregnant," she angrily snapped. "I want my fucking bra."

Laura looked at her in astonishment, but for a moment she actually seemed impressed. "Anything else, your majesty?"

Carrie paused, wondering if she dared ask for it. "A clean shirt." Explaining, she opened the buttons of her shirt and showed her the tank top underneath, pointing out the stains from where her breasts had leaked. Even setting that aside she still smelled of urine from the incident last night, and mixed with days of sweat and dirt it made her fell gross and dishevelled.

Finally Laura seemed to show an iota of sympathy, but it was brief. Without a word she reached for Carrie's hands and cuffed them together, taking her by the arm and escorting her out of the cell. They walked in silence, Carrie dragging her feet only when they passed Daryl's cell at the other end of the corridor. Today the door was wide open, the cell empty but for what looked like a mess of vomit on the ground. Knowing her enquiries would be ignored she didn't bother asking about him, but she dared to hope that he would be coming with them to Alexandria. It wasn't so much of a stretch to think that Negan might bring them both, their presence in Alexandria serving as double the reminder to Rick as to why he was going to cooperate.

Her attention was quickly diverted when she realised they were taking an unfamiliar route, and for the first time ever Carrie was being shown through a different part of the Sanctuary. Nevertheless there was very little for her to actually see, for they didn't go much further than their normal route to the outside courtyard. A few minutes later they entered the enormous laundry room, the space filled with rows of long tables upon which clean clothes were set out folded and ready to be retrieved. Atop each pile was a white linen bag bearing the owner's name, and as they passed them by Carrie looked at them, recognising a few.

"We need a bra," Laura announced to the room at large, looking around expectantly.

In an instant someone was coming over, a stern faced woman who was drying her hands on a towel slung over her shoulder. "A bra for who?" she enquired, glancing at Carrie in curiosity. "Is this the new one?"

"Just show me where they are."

With a short nod the woman turned on her heel and showed them through, and as they walked Carrie couldn't help but look around. It was impossible not to notice the washing machine contraptions, the ingenious set up of converter belts and barrels of laundry that were turned by someone pedalling on a bicycle. She stared at them as if looking for a label, clearly recalling that she had seen this exact set up at the Kingdom. The Saviours had to have taken these from them, this notion being far more likely than the Saviours setting it up themselves. Elsewhere in the laundry room was a door that led to the outside, and through the large windows she caught sight of a colourful arrange of clothing that had been hung out to dry in the sun.

Somewhere nearby she could hear the sound of a child talking and laughing, and it was at this that Carrie starting to feel out of touch with reality. This was no place for a child…this was no place for laughter and joy.

"Hey. Alexandria," Laura said sharply, nudging her impatiently. "What size?"

Paying attention, Carrie turned her focus to the large plastic tub that the woman was setting onto the table, which was crammed full of bras. "My name isn't Alexandria. It's C-"

"I don't care what your name is," she said, always so impatient with her. "What size?"

Carrie sighed on the inside, wishing she didn't have to explain. "It depends on the bra. Sometimes a thirty four D, other times…"

She trailed off as Laura started rifling through the bras, tossing some straight onto the table and floor while tossing contenders towards her. With her hands still cuffed together she did her best to catch what was sent her way, quickly becoming disheartened with every bra she looked at. None of them were going to be comfortable, either having underwire or a cup that wouldn't support a damn thing.

"Where's the bra I was wearing?" she asked, trying to hide her own impatience. It wouldn't do her well to piss Laura off anymore than she already had. "The one you took from me."

"Can't you just pick one? We're already late."

"You don't remember what you did with it?"

Laura rubbed her forehead, and now she looked exasperated. "No. I…I don't reme-"

The worker who had shown them through cleared her throat now, taking a step forward. "Was it a white nursing bra? Berlei?"

Looking around, Carrie nodded in relief. "Do you have it?"

"I put it in the lost and found," she explained, going to the opposite wall where Carrie's white bra was hanging in plain sight. "No one I do laundry for wears a nursing bra."

Wanting to make quick work of it, Laura removed Carrie's hand cuffs and then gestured to her jacket, holding it for her while she waited. Relieved, she thanked the woman who handed her the bra, grateful to find that it had been laundered since the morning it was taken from her. Removing her outer shirt she slipped her arms out of her tank top and then put the bra on, only very briefly exposing her breasts. Though Laura had made a point of averting her eyes Carrie still felt unnerved by the situation, hating that she had to dress like this in broad day light where anyone could come in and see her. But there wasn't much cause for concern, and now the woman who had at first seemed stern was looking at her kindly.

"Can I?" she offered, gesturing to the straps of her bra. "They're uneven."

Slipping her arms back into her tank top, Carrie turned around and allowed the woman to come forward. She adjusted the length of the straps and then checked that it was comfortable, making another adjustment until it was just right, and as Carrie thanked her she tried to rationalise what this was…three days she had been here, and she wasn't used to be being spoken to with kindness. It was confronting to experience that now, even through such a simple gesture.

"We've got more bras in this style, I'll get you some."

"No," Laura said bluntly, gesturing at Carrie to hurry up. "We're done here."

Carrie looked at her in protest. "You said I could have a clean shirt," she reminded her, turning so that she could see the stains on the front.

Narrowing her eyes, Laura thrust her jacket at her. "Actually, I didn't. Now move it. Leave your jacket open," she added, readying the handcuffs. "The shirt too."

Slipping the jacket on, Carrie slowly took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. All in all she wasn't being treated badly, but she could feel herself reaching her capacity, unable to take this anymore. "It's February," she said, her voice starting to catch in her throat. "It's cold."

At this argument Laura also seemed to take a deep breath, perhaps trying to find an iota of kindness. She came forward and seized the front of Carrie's jacket, wrenching it across so that it was pulled together. "This here," she said, gesturing to her attire. "This makes you look like a fatty. But this," she said next, opening the jacket. "This says you're pregnant and untouchable." Clenching her jaw she bought her hands to the buttons of her shirt and began opening them, pulling it back to expose the thin tank top beneath. "And this says you need a shower and clean clothes. If you do as you're told, you might just get that."

Carrie fell silent, looking down at her clothing as she began to understand. It was in her best interests to not only remind everyone in her vicinity that she was heavily pregnant, but also that she wasn't in the best shape right now. Was Laura expecting Negan to show her some sympathy? Did he even care about her well being? She was his prisoner after all…

"I understand."

"Good," Laura said sharply, glaring at her as she cuffed her hands and then yanked her towards the exit. "You see…maybe I'm not such a complete bitch after all."

They left the laundry room without another word, Carrie glancing over her shoulder at the worker who was staying behind. She glanced out the large windows to where she could see clothing hanging out to dry, certain she had heard the sound of children. Sickened by the thought that there were children here she tried not to think about them, focusing instead on what she could learn in this moment. Unlike the day she was brought into the Sanctuary no hood was placed over her head, and she was allowed to freely look around as they roamed the corridors and ascended a flight of stairs.

This place was unlike anything she had been before, the floors made of concrete, the walls of cinderblock or metal sheeting, each of the doors made from heavy duty metal. Every few corridors there was an evacuation plan posted on the walls, the age of the poster indicating it had been there for many years before the outbreak. They encountered only a few other Saviours, men and women who traipsed about the place with their guns and intimidating scowls which occasionally turned into curious glances when they looked at her. No doubt they all knew who she was, why she was there.

Finally they entered a room that seemed to have a purpose, the large table in the centre flanked by chairs making it look like a conference room of some kind, but that wasn't their final destination. At the other end of the room was an open door to the outside, Simon waiting just outside, and he seemed pleased by their arrival. Sharing a brief glance with Laura he stuck his fingers into his mouth and gave a loud whistle.

"Let's go," he yelled, whistling again.

Just like every time she was taken outside the sun was blinding, her eyes hurting as she clenched them shut, but she could only do so for so long. Either not noticing or not caring Laura didn't slow down as they made their way outside, and as they descended the concrete stairs Carrie braced herself and looked up, wishing she felt better prepared for what she faced. Almost ready to depart were four enormous trucks, at least thirty or so men and women piling into them in a rather orderly fashion. Waiting expectantly was Negan, and the sight of him made her stomach turn and before she could think twice she was trying to stop. Even at a distance he seemed so tall, his mere presence there intimidating her. Just like the other night he seemed to completely own the space he occupied, looking completely at ease no matter what he was doing. When he saw her coming he gave what seemed to be a happy smile, the look on his face only make her way to flee even more.

"Woah, look at you!" he laughed jovially, swinging the bat around by his side before bringing it to rest against his shoulder. Smiling, he looked her up and down in satisfaction. "Willy Wonka would roll you right into the juicing room!"

While a few others chuckled Carrie stood there in silence, not knowing what to say or do. It was taking everything she had to stand there in front of him, to not start backing away and begging Laura to take her back to her cell. She just couldn't fathom it, she couldn't make the connection between the monster who so cruelly beat Glenn and Abraham to death with the man in front of her cracking bad jokes. She turned to Laura, ready to ask her to take her back to the cell, but she couldn't summon the breath.

"Okay, she's not ready for pleasantries," Negan acknowledged. Apparently unbothered by her lack of enthusiasm he came towards her, tilting his head as he scrutinised her appearance. His eyes were roaming the length of her body, but to her surprise his interest in her didn't feel lewd. "She looks good, Laura. Too good."

Understanding, Laura let go of her arm and stepped away, and Carrie watched on in confusion as she collected a handful of dirt and gravel from the ground. She cringed when Laura told her to close her mouth and eyes, enduring it when she rubbed some of the dirt across her face and into her hair, making her appearance even more dishevelled. Not finished she grabbed another handful of gravel and rubbed it onto the front of her leggings, and she had just opened her eyes when Laura withdrew a pocket knife and cut a hole into the fabric over the knee, exposing the bandaids Doctor Carson had applied last night.

When Laura showed him the end result Negan looked genuinely pleased. "Much better."

He scratched his jaw as he looked around, taking note that everything was in order, that all his Saviours were making their way into the vehicles ready to depart. Clearing his throat he came back towards Carrie and scrutinised her again, but this time felt different. He peered down at her in curiosity, but his body language seemed to be softening, his grip not so tight on the baseball bat he still held over his shoulder. Despite the change in his body language she was barely breathing right now, almost as if she had to stay perfectly still in order for a predator to mistake her for something inanimate. This was the closest she had been to this monster, closer enough that she could reach out and touch him…for him to reach out and touch her. She remembered that night, when he crouched down in front of her and demanded she open her jacket. He had reached out and touched her, pulling aside her jacket when she had tried to close it, and when she felt his fingertips brush her hand she had thought she would be sick.

"I heard about what happened last night," he began softly, his voice low and gravelly. "About what Laura said to you…how it made you go fucking ape shit."

Carrie paused, not knowing what to say. It felt like a test, like he was asking her to rat on one of his people. "Yes," she managed to say, her voice little more than a murmur.

"I hope she apologised for upsetting you."

"Yes."

Nodding in satisfaction Negan shifted his weight between his feet, and when he lowered the bat down from his shoulder Carrie took a step backwards. She looked at it in apprehension, watching the way he rested the tip on the toe of his boot rather than set it onto the ground.

"I'm the one who should be apologising," he continued, using his fingers to turn the bat around and around on the toe of his boot. "You see, I told Laura to break you…and she has. You've been her pet project, just like Daryl is D's pet project."

Realising he was gesturing to something Carrie raised her gaze, her heart faltering when she saw Daryl standing twenty yards away. He stood with his shoulders hunched and his head low, barefoot and wearing nothing but for a light brown set of sweatpants and sweater. It was cold out here, he had to be freezing with nothing to keep him warm, but as if in a trance he stood almost completely still. He didn't look up at her, he didn't allow her to see for himself the state he was in. Nearby was Dwight still wearing his leather vest, Daryl's crossbow proudly slung over his shoulder.

"I would like to take this opportunity to offer you some important reassurance," Negan began, sounding as though he was delivering a speech. "Carrie. You're here to serve a very specific purpose, and you can't serve that very specific purpose if you're all broken up inside because someone took your baby away. If feeding, clothing and sheltering you and that baby keeps the wheels turning, then that is what I will do. Do you understand?"

Carrie hesitated, having still been looking over at Daryl. She looked back at the ground now, still struggling to keep up. "Yes."

"Tell me what it is that you understand."

 _Fuck…it felt like a test_. "You're not taking my baby away from me."

Satisfied, Negan clapped his hands together. "Damn right I'm not taking your baby away. You're here to keep Rick and Alexandria in line, and you can't do that if you're not having a good time. Now this isn't the Hilton. I'm the only one who gets room service, and there's sure as shit no fucking spa treatment for your cankles…but you and your baby will be provided for."

There was a long pause now, Negan looking at her expectantly. Suddenly she realised what he was waiting for, and she forced herself to say the words. "Thank you."

"No, no. I thank _you_ ," he declared. "Your cooperation will mean that one day when our boy Rick has truly figured out the way the world works, maybe he can have you back. Maybe," he emphasised, coming closer to her. "If he gives us some good shit in the next couple of weeks, he can even be here to hold your hand when you spit that kid out. How's that sound?"

"G-good. Thank you."

At this he seemed to laugh under his breath, perhaps relishing how well behaved she was being, that she had thanked him for his hospitality after everything he had done to her and her group.

"That is fucking aces," he declared in satisfaction. To her relief he took a few steps back, giving her some personal space as he raised the bat into the air and aimlessly swung it around, twirling it in his hand as he spoke. "Alright, listen up because here's the deal. We're making a house call to Alexandria, and your job is to remind Rick exactly why he's going to be on his absolute, god damn best behaviour. Daryl's coming along too, and his job is to remind Rick of just how bad things can get for his lovely wife."

She nodded, articulating her understanding when it seemed he was waiting for her to speak. "Okay."

"Now that's out of the way, here's your task for the day. Listen closely, I'll only say this once," he warned, lowering his voice. To her discomfort he started coming back towards her, making sure he had her full attention. "From the moment you set foot into one of my trucks until the moment you set foot back on this concrete…you don't say a word. Not one, fucking word. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"I want to be sure that you do," he said in mock concern, when really he was berating her. "Absolutely not matter what, not a single word. Even if I look you in the eye and tell you myself that you're allowed to speak, even if I threaten to start bashing ginger skulls again…you do not speak. Got it?"

Carrie nodded. "Got it."

"This…this is Lucille," he said softly, slowly bringing it towards her face. She recoiled away from it, her stomach turning in disgust. "I'm sure you remember her."

Nodding, Carrie started at the baseball bat in apprehension, Lucille. Despite what it was used for, the wood and barbed wire was perfectly clean, but the wood itself bore the evidence of what it was used for.

"Do not make me introduce her to Daryl's head."

Carrie took a deep breath, finally taking her eyes away from Lucille and looking up at Negan. "I'm not going to try anything. I'll do what you've asked me to do."

For a moment her heart faltered, feeling like she had done something wrong when Negan came closer to her yet again. He was staring at her now, his eyes boring into hers as she ignored the instinct to step back, to flee from him. As she held her breath she looked down at the bat, mentally bracing herself to raise her hands should he take a swing at her, to defend herself…not that there was much she could do against someone like him. While before he had the air of friendliness and pleasantries now his tone had darkened, instilling in her that same sense of dread she felt in the RV when they constantly found themselves to be outsmarted and trapped.

"Excellent," he said loudly, the volume of his voice startling her given his close proximity. Looking pleased with her cooperation he finally stepped back, swinging the bat by his side as he walked off. "Dwight. Cuff them together, put them in the truck with the good heater."

Carrie's heart soared with relief, and she didn't bother trying to hide it. While Negan walked away Dwight was yanking on Daryl's elbow, bringing him over to where she and Laura stood. Despite her hopes Daryl didn't look up at her, keeping his face downcast with his hair falling across his face.

"You alright with her?" Laura asked Dwight, looking glad to be relieved of her prisoner.

"We'll be fine," he said shortly, looking at Carrie while Laura was removing the handcuffs from her right wrist. "You need anything before we go? Bathroom?"

As Laura secured the empty cuff around Daryl's right wrist, binding them together, Carrie was once again surprised by what Dwight had said to her, by the effort to make sure she was comfortable. He sure as hell wasn't extending that type of offer to Daryl.

"I'm fine," she replied, still resisting the natural reflex to say thank you.

When Laura walked off and someone else caught Dwight's attention, Carrie took what might be her only opportunity to share a moment of comfort with Daryl. He looked like he had been through hell, his mouth swollen and face bruised, but it was his demeanour and body language that made her heart ache the most. He stood with his head downcast and his shoulders slumped in defeat, looking appropriately miserable. Unable to not to, Carrie stepped forward and tentatively embraced him. She needed to touch him, to feel for himself that he was alive and real, that he wasn't a figment of her imagination. As much as she wished he wasn't in this position, a part of her was glad that she wasn't alone here at the Sanctuary, that she had someone with her.

Conscious of his many injuries, one of which was highlighted by a large white dressing on the front of his shoulder, she kept her embrace as gentle as possible, her arm light around his side. To her relief he returned her embrace without hesitation, moving closer until her round belly was pressed right up against him, her head resting against his. He smelled of sweat and filth, but that wasn't going to make her pull away.

"I ain't fuckin' kneeling," he murmured against her ear, his voice weaker than she had ever heard. "But you do what you gotta."

His words made her choke on her breath, her throat tightening with emotion. Daryl might look broken and defeated, but his spirit was still there. He was still fighting in the only way he could, and he was thinking of her too. He wanted her to do whatever she had to do to guarantee her own well being, to make sure she came through this and could live with herself after.

"I love you," she murmured back, likely having never told him that. "We're gonna be okay. We're gonna get o-"

"Let's go," Dwight said sharply, seizing Daryl by the elbow and yanking him away from her embrace. "Come on, we're already behind schedule."

Without argument they did as they were told, and as they walked side by side towards one of the waiting trucks she became away of moisture in her eyes. Not wanting anyone to see her upset she hastily wiped the wetness away with the back of her hand, while her left hand cuffed to Daryl's right reached out a little. Trying to be subtle about it, she slipped her little finger around his and held it lightly, relishing the physical contact.

Without delay Dwight was ushering them into the cabin of a truck, and Carrie waited patiently as Daryl slowly managed to pull himself up into the cabin. In that brief moment she turned back and took a proper look at the Sanctuary for the first time, amazed by it's scale. The facade was a bleak grey colour that matched the overcast sky, the face of the building dominated by the numerous panes of glass and the fire escape that stretched all the way to the roof of the building, Carrie about to count at least ten flights in her brief glance. The place seemed perfectly fitting for the Saviours, a group who wreaked havoc and left misery in their wake.

"Do you need help to get up?"

Dwight's offer of assistance quickly brought her attention back, and she practically recoiled from him, though he had made no indication that he was going to reach out to her. Instead he was looking at her expectantly, gesturing up into the cabin of the truck where Daryl was seated, their cuffed hands stretched out between them. Seeing Daryl's discomfort from reaching down she hastened to climb up there, her hand shaking as she used the handles and side steps to manoeuvre herself. Highly conscious of just how high up the cabin was she started to falter, her balance not quite what it used to be now that she carried such a great weight on her front. But Daryl was watching her, silently bringing her left hand up to another handle above her head with which she steadied herself. She breathed out as she settled onto the seat beside him and caught her breath, but remembering what she had been warned she didn't say a word. Instead she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to prepare herself for what was going to come next. Soon she was going to see Rick, her entire family…and they were going to have to watch her be taken away all over again.

"Hey," Dwight called out, getting her attention. "Turn around," he said, using his hand to gesture.

Worried about what he wanted, Carrie slowly turned on the seat to face him, and she was infuriated when he reached up and grabbed her sneakers. He yanked them off her feet and then her socks too, giving no explanation when he tossed them away. Despite this there wasn't time to outrage at the theft for a split second later Negan appeared below her, looking up at her and her bare feet with a smirk of satisfaction.

"Budge up," he said loudly, carrying Lucille under his arm as he started to climb up.

Sick to her stomach she scrambled to move aside, she and Daryl shuffling over just as Negan pulled himself up and slumped down onto the space she had just vacated. Her heart was racing now, terrified by his close proximity, by the way he seemed to effortlessly take up so much space. She felt claustrophobic, her chest tightening as she prepared herself for him to reach out and touch her. Already the side of his leg was pressed up against hers, his elbow touching her upper arm after he had closed the door and settled into his seat. Mentally she was trying to prepare herself for the touch that she knew had to be coming. He would look down the front of her tank top, touch her belly, put his hand on her thigh…but he did nothing of the sort. In fact it was Daryl's hand on her thigh that she felt, silently ushering her to move closer to him a fraction, having made more room.

"Chop chop, Dwighty Boy," Negan hollered out the open window, looking down before winding it up to keep the cold out.

Carrie had jolted when he shouted, but still Daryl was looking out for her. Not caring if Negan saw, he put her hand into his and held it, and then he shuffled one of his feet in front of hers. She frowned, not quite understanding what he was trying to do, and when she figured it out she squeezed his hand tightly, thanking him. Filthy though they were, he placed his feet on top of hers and tried to warm them.

"Sorry," Dwight apologised, climbing into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut.

With the other vehicles idling and ready to go Dwight hastened himself, sticking the keys in he ignition and starting the engine. The heating started, and though at first it blew blasts of frigid cold air into the cabin it slowly began to warm.

"Leave 'em off."

At Negan's instruction Carrie looked around, noting that Dwight held two black hoods in his hand, having already reached to place one over Daryl's head. Dwight seemed to frown, but he obeyed without question. Instead of putting them over their heads he looked down, and in a moment of what might have been sympathy he tossed the two pieces of fabric over their feet.

"No need to keep you in the dark. That bitch told you where the Sanctuary is, didn't she?" Negan asked, speaking directly to Carrie and Daryl. "You know where you are?"

It was obvious who he was referring to, that he knew Lana had to have told Rick's group everything she knew about Negan and the Sanctuary. He was right, for she had indeed told them where it was located, and had even gone as far as to advise the best routes there and back. Nevertheless Carrie didn't answer Negan's questions, remembering his earlier instructions. Even when he nudged her she didn't say a word, though she held her breath and waited in apprehension, worried that this was some kind of trick. Finally he seemed to relent, pleased by their silence.

"Let 'em enjoy the scenery," he declared, resting his feet onto the dash as they truck began to depart the Sanctuary. "It's all they're gonna get for a long time."

* * *

"We did ask for this," Rick murmured as he looked down at his feet. "We asked to see him."

The engines had died down now, leaving in their wake a murmur of conversations and doors closing. A few moments passed, the wait for something to happen felt excruciating, but there was no relief at the sound of footsteps and a cheery whistle. The morning sun cast a silhouette on the gate, the approaching figure swinging a baseball bat up and down as they casually approached, and there was no need to second guess who it was.

"Dun dun dun, duh," Negan sang as he slowed to a stop, announcing himself. Raising the bat from his shoulder he loudly tapped it against the exterior of the gate, the sound reverberating through the frame. "Little pig, little pig. Let me in."

After a moment's hesitation Rosita came forward, pulling back the interior gate that prevented people looking in. Rick tried to brace himself before facing what was on the other side, and it was all he could do to keep his expression impassive when he came face to face with Negan. It was the first time he had seen him since the morning he had taken away Carrie and Daryl, leaving him kneeling in the dirt a complete wreck.

"Well, hello there," Negan greeted, giving that sickening smile. He held Rick's gaze for a long moment, his expression darkening and his eyes narrowing. "Do _not_ make me have to ask."

With no choice but to appease him, Rick came forward and unlatched the gate, hauling it open. "You said a week. You're early."

Negan's smile was back, and he held Rick's gaze as he opened the gate. "Simon said you were missing me…I know I've been missing you," he said, sounding affectionate. "Come on out, Rick. Take a look at who I brought," he instructed enthusiastically. "I brought the whole gang. The _whole_ gang."

Forcing himself to step outside, Rick tried his best to brace for what he knew he was going to find, but nothing could prepare him for it. Dozens of Saviours were crowded around their trucks parked by the walls, each of them armed and staring at him with mild disinterest, here purely to do a job and then go home. He looked around apprehensively, his heart pounding and his palms beginning to sweat, and it was then he saw Carrie and Daryl. They were less than ten yards away from him, standing side by side with one hand cuffed to one another. Flanked by not only all of the Saviours, but by two guards on each side, they were silent and still.

As he looked at them he could feel himself beginning to shake with rage, one hand clenched into a fist by his side, but he held it together. With his jaw clenched he looked each of them up and down, taking in their state and demeanour. Daryl stood with his shoulders hunched forward, trying to hide from him the extent of the bruises on his face, the array of injuries Rick could make out even from ten yards away. To his right stood Carrie, and though she too seemed rather dishevelled and unkempt she appeared to be unharmed. It was a small comfort though, particularly when he looked down at her feet, appalled to see that both she and Daryl were barefoot in the February weather. He wished they would look up at him, that he could make eye contact and somehow gauge what had happened to them, if they were coping, but they were keeping their eyes on the ground.

Without warning Negan suddenly appeared in front of him, making Rick lurch back and look up at him. The mongrel was smiling at him, tilting his head in amusement. "You're welcome," he gloated, holding Rick's gaze before turning to the rest of his men. "All right everybody, let's get started. Big day," he declared loudly, still not losing his smile. He came forward now, roughly shoving the baseball bat Lucille towards him. "Hold this."

He didn't have even a split second in which to protest, forced to take the bat in his hand as Negan stroke base him. In perfect synch the Saviours were following suit, one of them seizing him by the sleeve and yanking him back towards the gates. Turning away from Carrie and Daryl he hastened to get inside the walls, to catch up with Negan and keep a handle of the situation. Even as that thought occurred to him so too did the reality that he wasn't in control of anything right now, but that didn't let him off the hook. He had to get Alexandria through this invasion, he had to make sure no one did anything to get themselves killed. If things went smoothly, then maybe he would have some bargaining power. He might be able to do something about Carrie and Daryl, even if it meant begging on his hands and knees.

"Hot diggity dog!" Negan shouted in delight, having taken his first glimpse inside the walls. "This place is magnificent. Yes sir, I do believe you are going to have plenty."

Trailing behind him with the baseball bat in hand, Rick held his tongue at Negan's comment, fully prepared to keep his mouth shut as much as necessary. Ahead of them on the street were Francine and Michael, watching on in dismay as Rick seemingly welcomed the Saviours inside their community, their home. Further back he watched as Barbara rushed past Aaron's house with Courtney and Connor holding her hands, quickly making themselves scarce just as they had planned.

Confident that the Alexandrian's were already following the plan despite the unexpected arrival, Rick took a deep breath and turned around to face the rest of the Saviours, and his eyes naturally sought out Carrie and Daryl again. They were close by, Daryl flanked by Dwight and Carrie flanked by the blonde woman with the nose ring. For one brief moment Carrie looked up at him, and though she seemed poorly she was holding it together, and before he knew it he was starting towards her. He wanted to tell her that it was going to be alright, to tell both of them that he would find a solution, he would find away.

"Carrie," he started, noticing the way her expression tightened when he came towards her. She didn't want him to come over, and she all but pulled away.

"No!" Negan said sternly, turning back and walking in front of Carrie, blocking her from Rick's sight. "Nope. You don't look at them, you don't talk to them, and I don't make you chop anything off of them," he lectured, looking at him in dissatisfaction. He stared at Rick a moment longer, stepping closer to him and then leaning in to whisper. "Or out of them."

Rick held his gaze a moment longer and then turned away, obediently looking anywhere but at his wife and brother. He didn't need to be warned twice, sickened by the thought that Negan would actually follow through on his threat. _Don't make me teach you another lesson. I will stick my knife into her belly, drag it right across, and then let her watch that baby fall right out of her._

"Alright, let's get this show on the road. Let's see what kind of goodies you got in the cupboard."

"We set aside half the supplies," he began, wanting to get this over with quickly. "The-"

"No, Rick. No." Negan turned around again and looked at him incredulously, unable to believe it. " _You_ don't decide what we take. I do. Arat."

There was a tense pause as one of the Saviours shouted a harsh command to the others, but without question they lurched into action. In seconds they were filing past them, toting their guns in their hands as they marched in various directions towards their houses. Watching them in satisfaction Negan seemed to applaud them.

"They're just gonna search the houses a bit, keep the process moving. You gonna show me around, or what?"

For a moment Rick stood there in silence, righteously outraged by what was happening. In his peripheral vision he could still see Carrie and Daryl, his own people who he wasn't even allowed to look at. Part of him wanted to make a stand, to insist that Negan give him an inch after he had given him a mile…but this thought was only fleeting.

"Well?"

Negan was looking at him expectantly, and it was then that all thoughts of making a stand disappeared. There were many ways today could go, his only job was to make sure none of them got killed, his pride and rights taking second place. Later he could fight them, but not today, not where there was so much at stake and the sickening sight of his friend's corpses were still front of mind. Without a word he stepped around Negan and began leading the way up the street, wondering how many calculated risks he could take. He couldn't bring them into his own home, not when Judith and the other children would be holed up there, but nor could he outright avoid it, for doing so would only arouse interest in what he had to hide. Instead he escorted Negan up to the intersection by Jessie's still unoccupied house.

All around them Saviours were going in and out of houses, an array of furniture, electrical equipment and personal belongings already lined up on the street ready to be packed into trucks. They worked quickly, their speed and efficiency a reminder that this was not the first time they had done this kind of thing. Though he had requested a tour it seemed Negan was more content to roam his own course, not needing to look over his shoulder to know that Rick was following him every step of the way. To his frustration they first turned left down the street towards his own house, but it was the gardens and livestock that had garnered Negan's interest, not the homes.

"You see? This is the kind of thing that just tickles my balls. Cooperation. Everything is as pleasant as punch." He looked at Rick as he talked, and they now made their way towards the Infirmary. "You see? We really are reasonable people once you get to know us."

"Negan," someone called out. "Somethings you might wanna see."

It was the woman, Arat. She was quickly making her way towards them, her gruff expression doing nothing to indicate what it was she had found.

"What is it?"

"The house there," she said, gesturing back to Shelly's house that had been partially destroyed when the Wolves attacked. "There's surveillance set up outside the walls, almost a three hundred and sixty degree view. Right out to the highway."

At this Negan looked suitably impressed, and he turned to Rick in awe. "A surveillance system? Look at you, Mr Alexandria," he said mockingly. "Is that a live feed you're running, or recorded?"

"Live," he admitted.

"Then you must have seen us coming then," he commented, still sounding pleased. "Tell me, Rick. Who's the smarty pants that set that up for you?"

He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to draw attention to Eugene or anyone else involved in the intricacies of the set up. "They're dead."

Negan scoffed, likely disbelieving him. "How convenient for them. Arat, take it all. Send some folks out there to get the cameras, all the cabling, whatever it takes. What else?"

She shook her head, coming forward and handing a video camera. "This too. They found it at the blue house down the end. Looks like his place."

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Negan crooned, beaming as he took the camera and looked it over. He glanced up at Carrie who was being escorted ten steps behind them at all times, and then he looked at Rick. "I got my fingers crossed for a little freaky deaky. Tell me Rick…what's she like when you get her in front of the camera?"

As Negan opened the viewing panel and turned on the camera Rick held his breath, trying to remember which memory card had been left in there last. It was a relief to hear his own voice coming from the camera, instantly recognising the interview he had given to Deanna, an interview he had watched over and over again in the year since.

"Je-sus!" Negan exclaimed in great amusement, cackling to himself. "Is that you Rick? Under all that fucking man bush?"

Not daring to say a word, Rick held his tongue while Negan taunted him, enjoying the sight to behold on the video camera.

"Shit. I would not have messed with that guy," he sneering at him as he turned the video camera around. He pointed it at Rick, bringing it close up to his face as he hit record. "But that's not you anymore, is it?" There was silence for a moment, Negan enjoying himself. "Nope," he laughed, bringing the camera back to look at himself instead.

Apparently satisfied, he closed turned off the camera and tossed it back to Arat. "Make sure that goes in my truck, and any other memory cards you can find. We need something new for Friday nights." With a short nod Arat turned on her heel and departed, seeing to his instructions, not that Negan seemed to notice. Instead he had turned back to Rick, narrowing his eyes as he took a step towards him. "Careful," he warned, lowering his voice. "Careful how you're looking at me, Rick."

Quickly realising that he had been scowling, Rick straightened his features and then looked down subserviently. He knew what memory cards the Saviours were going to take, and it wouldn't be just the arrival interviews with Deanna. There would be film and photographs of all major events in Alexandria. Children's birthday parties including Judith's, and Rick and Carrie's wedding. Hoping they didn't find the memory card used, he last recalled the camera being used by Carrie as they lay in bed early one morning, capturing the baby's kicks and rolls when it was most active.

"Widows…especially ones that look like her," Negan began, gesturing to Carrie. "They are special," he said slowly, enunciating his words. "I love them. Right after their husbands go, they are just empty inside. But usually not for long." He smirked now, eagerly waiting for Rick to say or do something stupid, for an incident to arise. Almost disappointed when it did not, Negan stepped back and looked around cheerfully. "Speaking of wives, where is my wedded whore? I would love to see her."

Bracing himself, Rick flexed his grip around the handle of the baseball bat. He didn't anticipate it would be well received for him to drop it. The truth was on the tip of his tongue, for he couldn't bear to tell the lie they had all agreed on, not when Carrie and Daryl wouldn't know for sure. But just like he expected everyone else too, Rick stuck to the agreed plan.

"Would you like to pay your respects?" he offered, his voice heavy.

Silence followed, and slowly Negan turned back to him. To Rick's surprise he actually seemed disappointed, his cheery demeanour having vanished. "She didn't make it?"

Conscious of the magnitude of the lie he had just told, Rick shook his head and then turned away, setting off up the road towards the cemetery. As he expected he would Negan followed him, with Carrie, Daryl and their guards bringing up the rear. Even with the instructions not to, Rick couldn't bear to look them in the eye right now, to see the grief they felt. Truth was he knew nothing of Lana's condition, she could be alive and well for all he knew, yet he lied because they were all safer with her dead, Lana included. But Carrie and Daryl would have no way of knowing that he had lied, and there was no way he could risk trying to give them any kind of hope. Instead he fed them the same lie he had to feed the Saviours, and he brought them to the three sections of overturned earth in their cemetery, unable to tell them that one grave was empty.

"Damn tragedy," Negan commiserated, looking down at the grave. "She was bit?"

Rick shook his head, wishing he didn't have to explain. "Appendicitis."

To his surprise Negan didn't immediately respond, and instead he fell silent for a few moments. "She bled out before you could make it to the Hilltop?"

Settling for a nod of affirmation, Rick mentally took stock of Negan's comment. He didn't seem bothered by the fact that Alexandria and the Hilltop knew of one another, that their relationship was established enough that they would bring their sick and dying to them. But no mention was made about the Kingdom, their original destination before the Saviour's blockades forced them to reroute. It was a small detail to note, but an important one. If they didn't know about Alexandria and the Kingdom's relationship, they still held a wild card.

"Where's that prick she was all Romeo and Juliet for?" Negan asked insensitively, looking around impatiently. "Victor?"

"Vetor," Rick corrected him. "He hasn't been around for a while."

"Is that so?" he questioned, sounding rather interested by that. "So pray tell…who was the daddy to be?"

Taken aback, Rick looked at him flabbergasted. How did he know she was pregnant? Upon seeing his expression Negan laughed jovially, clapping his hands together in amusement.

"Ri-ck," he teased, grinning at him. "Of course I know she was knocked up. So go on. Who was the baby daddy?"

Rick was forced to answer. He couldn't lie about this, for surely Negan must have interrogated Carrie and Daryl about this…he had to tell the truth, just in case they had. "Daryl."

An awkward pause came to pass, Negan scoffing under his breath as he looked around at Daryl. He stared at him in disbelief, and then without warning he started to laugh uproariously. "Well, fuck me!" he declared, his amusement growing as he slapped his hand against the front of his leg. "Congratulations are in order, Daryl. Who'd have thought you could bed the same woman I did?"

With Negan looking the other way Rick took a chance and raised his gaze, needing to look at Carrie. She still stood by Daryl's side, the two of them joined by handcuffs, but at the sight of tears rolling down her cheeks his heart ached for her. For him there was still the hope that she might have survived, but not for Carrie and Daryl. The moment he told Negan of Lana's death he had also told them.

"I should have done things the other way around," Negan mused, though he didn't sound genuinely disappointed. "I should have left Daryl there to bleed to death, and taken her back to the Sanctuary. I mean, I know I said some unkind things the other night, but pussy is pussy. I could have been there for her in her time of need."

In his peripheral vision he could see Carrie take a sharp breath of air, her shoulders lurching. She was trying to collect herself, to hold it together, and beside her Daryl offered the only element of comfort he could. Keeping it subtle he reached out his hand toward hers and entwined two of their fingers, the only source of comfort he could offer and take. Unlike Carrie he stood silent and motionless, but Rick didn't mistake his lack of response for disregard.

"You said you had a doctor at the Sanctuary," Rick began, broaching the subject lest he not get the opportunity later. "Has they been to see them?"

"Who?" Negan questioned, playing dumb for a moment. "Oh, you mean her? Your wife, who I'm taking care of? Yes, my doctor has seen her."

"And what did they say?"

"He said everything is fucking A - okay," he declared, walking over Lana's fake grave. "Honkey Dorey, and ready to spit that kid out any day now."

Bracing himself, Rick dared to toe the line. "No. The baby is breech, both of their lives could be in danger. Please," he began, softening his tone and looking Negan in the eye. "Let her stay. You have our cooperation, I think that's clear enough."

Negan scrutinised him, perhaps unable to believe his nerve. "If my memory serves me correctly, you don't seem to have a doctor running around," he said politely. "Now I assured you I would take care of her. How is it in her best interests that she come home to you? You can't provide her a doctor…I can."

"The doctor from the Hilltop has already agreed to deliver the baby. He knows what he's doing."

Negan tilted his head, his upper lip curling into a menacing smile. "Is that so…well then, let's see what the woman in question has to say about it," he decided, whirling around and looking at Carrie. "Go ahead there, Carrie. Would you like to come home?"

To his horror, Carrie didn't say a single word. She looked up at Negan with a blank expression, simply observing him without emotion as he came closer, asking her the question again. On the inside Rick was fuming, screaming at her to say something. There was no place for pride right now, she had to say something, but his frustration slowly turned into concern. Negan asked her the question a third time, outright pestering her now, and yet she did not respond.

"Well, there you have it," he shrugged, turning back to Rick. "She doesn't have a whole lot to say about it, so I might as well take her back to my place. I think she'd prefer that."

"What have you done to her?" Rick demanded, losing all thought of keeping his voice calm. "Why can't she speak?"

"Me?" Negan said innocently, putting his hands to his chest as though scandalised. "I haven't done a thing to her, and that is the God damn mother fucking truth. As true as I stand here."

"What have the others done to her?"

"Not a damn thing!" he insisted. "Now I'll admit, things got a little heated with her last night. Things got physical, just a simple misunderstanding about the way things were going to work. But I assure you she hasn't been harmed."

Slowly Rick shook his head, unsatisfied. "It can't go on like this. This is not going to work, and I want…" he began seriously, needing to make Negan understand. "I want to make this work. I understand things, but you've got to meet me halfway. Let her stay…please."

There was a long pause, and just as Rick dared to feel a flicker of hope Negan shot him down. "No."

"You want me to beg on my knees?"

"Oh, I'd love someone on their knees in front of me, but not you," Negan smirked. He turned back to Carrie now, looking her up and down. "She's got a nice little room all to herself. Private bathroom, she's allowed fresh air and exercise, three square meals a day, and snacks. If I'm not mistaken, I saw a grape juice box on her tray last night, just for something special. All the comforts you'd expect of a dark, cold, six by eight foot cupboard with a padlock the side of my nut sack…and my wives will attest that it is a sizeable padlock."

Feeling his stomach turning, Rick lowered his gaze and looked at the ground. He hadn't deluded himself completely, he knew that Carrie and Daryl wouldn't be kept to the same standards that he would keep a prisoner. He had even considered the thought of them being locked in cells, scared and alone…but hearing that confirmation from Negan himself was a whole other thing.

"She's also barefoot in February, and without proper medical care. They both are," he emphasised, raising his gaze and looking at Negan. "You said you were reasonable people…this arrangement right now is not reasonable."

A long moment of tension came to pass, Rick holding his breath as Negan stared him down. This could go either of two ways. Either Negan would relent and give a little, or he'd take Rick's insistence as a sign of defiance and act accordingly. The wait for him to do something was excruciating, made all the worse by the way he held Rick's gaze unflinchingly. His eyes were cold, showing little to no emotion.

"Laura," he said loudly, never breaking eye contact with Rick. "Take her back to her place. She's to take a nice, hot, _soapy_ shower. And while she's all wet and soaped up and I'm back here getting hard just thinking about her…pack her a bag. Anything she wants to bring, within reason."

"Got it."

Without further ado the woman named Laura was removing the handcuffs from Carrie's wrist, separating her from Daryl. Though she wasn't outright rough she took Carrie by the upper arm and tugged at her to move, which she did so cooperatively. From the corner of his eye Rick watched her go, seeing her body in profile as she turned. His chest ached at the sight of her belly, knowing that although she still had at least two weeks left to full term she could go into labour any day now. It terrified him that she wasn't getting the medical care she needed, but still there was nothing he could do but ask for it. He was about to do just that, to repeat his request that she at least be taken to see the doctor, but Negan spoke first.

"You know, she really is wonderful company at the Sanctuary," he said conversationally. "You chose well, everyone loves her. She's…compliant…cooperative. Eager to please. And when you take her from behind, which I just _love_ doing, you can hardly tell that another man got at that pussy nine months ago. She's stunning."

Though he was revolted by what Negan was telling him, disgusting by the mere implication that Carrie had been raped by him, Rick held onto a small slither of hope that she was okay. Negan had mentioned nothing of the tattoo on Carrie's ass, the highly noticeable Tinkerbell and the script _just a dash of sass_. That alone would have been worth mentioning, something that would be easy to taunt Rick with, but Negan hadn't mentioned it…he hadn't seen it naked. It was this slither of evidence that he hung on to, using it to come to the conclusion that Negan was lying to him, that Carrie hadn't been sexually assaulted.

"Let's continue this tour, shall we?" Negan instructed, clapping Rick on the shoulder as though they were old friends. "I'm willing to bet you've got yourself a nice little cache of guns and ammo, and that shit won't fly, I fucking assure you."

* * *

A/N So, what do you think? I felt it was an important chapter to begin establishing Negan's intentions for Carrie, which will be fleshed out more in the coming chapters.

How does everyone feel about the Season 8 finale? I have to admit that I was a little underwhelmed by the final battle, and will be taking a slightly different route with my story.

Please read and review - your reviews are my only form of payment! Cheers.


	47. Chapter 47

It was surreal being back in Alexandria, as if the entire place was nothing more than a dream Carrie had revisited. Saviours were roaming freely, working quickly to steal anything that was of value. On the street they were piling up personal belongings and furniture, while outside Shelly's old house they were piling up a number of computers and electrical equipment, taking the surveillance equipment that had taken Alexandria months to put together. As they passed the intersection by Jessie's old house her heart fell when she saw her owl sculpture in a heap on the road, the Saviours carelessly dismantling it as they discussed using it for scrap metal.

Perhaps mercifully Laura didn't allow her to dawdle, and in no time at all they were climbing the porch steps and entering Carrie's home. The situation in here was no different, and she watched on numbly as one man walked past with their television, the power cord dangling behind him and bouncing over the wooden floors. The stools at the island counter had been overturned, someone else rummaging through the cupboards and selecting various appliances to take. The sight of it made her feel sick to the stomach, for though she couldn't care less about their stuff, these people had no place entering her home. They were violating it, leaving it in ruins. As if to support that notion there came the sound of a window shattering in the distance.

In silence she allowed Laura to lead her through her own home, cooperatively following her up the stairs. They got to the first landing before Laura sighed and made her turn around, and retreating back downstairs they had to make way for two men carrying a mattress, grunting and complaining as they manoeuvred it around the turn in the stairs.

"Is that from the master?" Laura asked.

"No," one of them answered, pausing to get their bearings before continuing through the house.

"Don't forget to-"

"Put it in the big truck, I know," he said impatiently, rolling his eyes.

Ignoring his tone, Laura tugged at Carrie's arm again and ushered her back towards the stairs. The situation was much the same as upstairs, and there was a shout of delight from the attic when someone discovered Daryl's mini fridge and television, while at the end of the hall someone was ransacking Carl's bedroom. She could hear them going through his things, clatters of plastic telling her they were rummaging through his CD collection, the one she had carefully helped him alphabetise. But though it hurt, Carrie's attention was mostly drawn towards Judith's bedroom and the two men standing outside of it.

Standing in the threshold was Tobin, his arms folded as he stared down a Saviour on the opposite side of the hallway. When she came upstairs Tobin's stout demeanour changed, his face falling into despair when he saw her there. Though he shifted his weight between his feet he didn't leave his post, but he did uncross his arms and take a deep breath.

"What's going on?" Laura questioned, looking between Tobin and the Saviour standing opposite.

Despite the standoff, the Saviour appeared relatively unconcerned. "He's got kids in there."

Carrie lurched towards the bedroom, her heart leaping into her throat at the mention of kids. Judith was in there, she had to be, and every instinct she had told her to rush in and find her, to bring her into her arms and never let her go. She needed to see her daughter, to hold her and kiss her, to tell her how loved she was…if she didn't then surely the ache in her chest was going to split it open. But as quickly as stepped forward Laura was yanking her back, having already ascertained which was the master bedroom. Forced to watch her go Tobin looked at her sadly, but she couldn't even hear the gentle words of reassurance he gave. Desperately she tried to see past him, catching a glimpse of Barbara's red hair, but that was all.

"Have you checked them?" Laura questioned the Saviour. As she spoke she was pushing Carrie through the double doors into the master bedroom, showing no kindness.

"I checked them all."

"The kids too? Last thing we need is a kid with an uzi."

The Saviours gave a great sigh, and Carrie got the impression he was annoyed that Laura questioned him. "Why don't you check the diapers, huh? I think one of them has something for you."

Ignoring that last remark Laura turned away from him and paid full attention to her hostage, though she was muttering something under her breath. Rick and Carrie's bedroom had also been ransacked, their personal belongings swept off the nightstands and bureau and onto the floor, and Carrie clenched her hands when she saw Rick's wooden box upside down on the carpet. The contents had spilled out, a photograph of Lori face up beneath the other trinkets and junk he kept in that box. She wanted to go over and pick it up, to make sure the photograph of Judith's mother was still in mint condition, but she didn't make it more than a step before stopping. The mirror on their bureau had been smashed, shattered glass littering the carpet and glinting in the morning light that streamed through the windows.

Remembering that Carrie had only bare feet, Laura briefly released her and then yanked the blankets off the bed, shaking it out before spreading it over the carpet. Having made safe passage for her she looked at Carrie expectantly, gesturing to the bathroom on the other side of the room. With a glance over her shoulder, one last effort to see into Judith's bedroom, she complied, still a hostage in her own home. The broken glass clinked beneath the blanket as she walked, and the more she felt herself growing nauseas the more she tried to concentrate on that. She knew she was annoying Laura with how slow she was going, but every step she took felt like another loss of freedom, and so there was only so much she could do to hang on to every ounce she had.

The ensuite was untouched, Rick's electric razor still on the counter, her hair dryer still sitting on the end of the counter where she had left it the other day. Her towels were hung on the town rail, neatly folded and hung evenly, unlike Rick's beside it. His hung there like a careless afterthought, only ever going to the minimal effort to get the damn thing hanging up to dry. At this thought she looked back to the bathroom sink, and the sight of his toothbrush carelessly discarded there was a small comfort. He always left it on the side of the sink rather than putting it away in the toothbrush holder six inches to his right. Normally it drove her crazy, and she got the impression he had continued doing it just to get a rise out of her…but today it was comforting to see, a reminder that he was still here as if the actual sight of him hadn't been enough.

"Come on," Laura said impatiently, hurrying her. "Seriously, we haven't got all day."

Slowly turning around Carrie observed her, and still she refused to utter a single word, even though she had plenty to say. Laura was standing in the threshold, leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded across her chest. Little privacy was being afforded to her, but it wasn't Laura's wandering eyes that concerned her. Outside the ensuite she could still hear the Saviours bustling around, listening to the sound of footsteps in the attic and murmurs of those who were returning to take their mattresses. Silently gesturing towards the bedroom Carrie made her request clear. To her relief Laura didn't roll her eyes or seem annoyed, but merely looked into the bedroom.

"Come back for the mattress when we're done," she instructed, a moment passing as they said something in return. "Close the doors on your way out."

Grateful, Carrie waited patiently until she heard the sound of the bedroom doors closing, and she wished Laura would go out and lock it. Nevertheless she didn't push her luck, but at least now Laura seemed to sympathise with her a little. Her body language had softened, perhaps remembering that her hostage was vulnerable, that it was her job to not only supervise her, but to ensure her welfare.

"Go on," she said, coming into the bathroom and opening the cabinets. "Wash your hair, shave your legs…whatever you want to do."

When Laura took out a small bottle of nail polish, Carrie suspected that she was painting her nails not out of vanity, but as means to divert her gaze and make her feel more comfortable. She returned to her post in the threshold and shook the bottle a few times, lowering her gaze as she removed the brush and began smoothing the polish onto her nails.

With this being as much privacy as she could expect Carrie began to undress, and despite her reservations about the whole thing she now longed to feel the water rushing over her body. She was still cold, her skin filthy with sweat, dirt and blood…blood that was not her own. This sickening thought spurred her on, and in seconds she was naked and stepping under a stream of water. The warm water pounding her skin felt blissfully cathartic, almost as if every ounce of terror and grief from the last few days was being washed away along with the dirt. Already she felt renewed, and she was desperate to hang on to this feeling for as long as possible.

Peeking over her shoulder she looked at Laura, self-conscious of the thought that she might be looking, not that it mattered really. She was still focused on her nails, blowing air onto her left hand while she intermittently glanced into the bedroom, still making sure that no one came inside to interrupt them. Confident enough to take her time Carrie turned her attention back to herself as she shampooed her hair, massaging her scalp before dragging her fingers through the long locks. She hadn't cut her hair since before Pete had attacked her and Carl, since before she had fallen pregnant, and it was perhaps as long as it had been the day Rick picked her up off the side of the road a little over a year ago. Today she shampooed it twice and methodically ran her fingers through, remembering that there had been something clumped into it…she didn't want to know what it was.

As she showered she kept waiting for Laura to tell her to hurry up, but fifteen minutes passed without incident, making it the longest solo shower she'd had in years. Despite being thoroughly clean and her hair smooth and conditioned she didn't rush to turn off the water…the sooner she stepped out of this shower, the sooner she had to face what was going on outside this room. She had to face Rick again, her family and friends, the Saviours. In here she had privacy, and there was no need to try and hold herself together.

Nevertheless she soon noticed Laura checking her watch, recognising it as a sign of impatience. From there Carrie was careful of how much she dared push her luck, and so with dread she turned off the water, but not before enjoying one last moment as it cascaded down over her face and shoulders. When the water ceased Laura glanced up, though she politely averted her eyes again. Still in no rush Carrie stood there and wrung the water out of her hair, taking her time before bundling it into a towel and wrapping the other around her body.

Just like always these days her towel was not quite long enough to go all around her, meaning her belly poked out through the gap, and it was this that reminded her of something she needed. Taking care not to slip on the tiles she made her way over to the vanity drawer, and now Laura was watching her intently, suspicious as to what she was doing. Wanting to be clear, Carrie took out the bottle of Bio Oil and showed it to her, and then she poured a little into the palm of her hands. As she rubbed her hands together she turned her back to Laura, feeling that this was too intimate to allow her to see. Bringing her hands beneath the towel she smoothed the oil over the expanse of her belly and gently rubbed it in, the skin feeling soothed almost immediately.

She had been feeling itchy for the last few days, having been unable to take care of her skin the way she normally did. As she rubbed the oil in she felt the baby responding to her first touch, enjoying the way it moved inside her, cramped though it was. Concentrating she could feel that it was still breach, feeling the head in the usual place on the right side of her ribs. She trailed her hands down her right hand side, knowing its back was there, and she wondered just how much of this it could feel, if it enjoyed her touch. As she rubbed the last of the oil in she looked up at herself in the mirror, feeling a strange disconnection to the reflection she saw. It didn't feel like she was looking at herself.

Struck by a sudden impulse, she set the bottle of oil onto the counter so that she could take it with her, and then she opened the drawer again. It took a moment to find, for she so rarely had use for it, but her favourite tube of red lipstick was still waiting for her. Without allowing Laura any time to stop her she removed the cap and twisted the base, exposing the lipstick and then raising it to the mirror. She couldn't speak to tell Rick that she was okay, but she could offer one small reassurance.

When she started scrawling Laura looked at her in confusion, her brow furrowed as she came forward to stop her. Noticing, Carrie wrote even faster in attempt to get it all onto the mirror, but when Laura realised what she was doing she relaxed and allowed her to finish. Her hand was shaking when she replaced the cap on the tube of lipstick, clutching the towel tighter around her chest as she stepped away and warily looked at Laura. She was staring up at the message, her expression blank.

 _Daryl not good_

 _They havent raped me_

 _Carlene_

Giving her usual sigh of impatience, Laura came closer and then snatched the lipstick out of her hands, but she wasn't mad. To her disbelief she removed the cap and twisted the base, and then raised it to the mirror.

"You forgot the apostrophe," she muttered, making a small addition. When she was done she replaced the cap and then tossed the lipstick back into the drawer, looking a little more satisfied now. "Grammar still matters."

Carrie held her tongue as usual, simply relieved that Laura hadn't scrawled over the words until they were illegible. Glad that she was now able to offer Rick some reassurance she was cooperative when Laura told her to get dressed, doing as she was told by packing her things without fuss. Under instruction she packed some underwear and bras of her choice, some clean shirts and leggings, a pair of jeans too. Though she wouldn't lower herself to expressing gratitude to her captors, she was glad to have been able to shower and put on clean clothes, grateful that Laura had foreseen this opportunity earlier and subtly set the scene to ensure it came about. She now wore warmer leggings and a comfortable shirt, a heavy knit sweater that completely covered her front. Feeling a little more secure she tossed into her pack some toiletries and the book that had been on her nightstand, resisting the impulse to take the framed pictures on her nightstand. No doubt Negan would inspect her belongings, and she didn't want him seeing them.

"You want anything else?" Laura questioned, surprising her by taking the pack and putting it over her shoulders, carrying it on her behalf.

Shaking her head Carrie resigned herself to facing what was going on outside, and she allowed Laura to take her by the elbow and lead her out of the bedroom. As they departed she paid little attention to the three Saviours who were impatiently waiting, but in that split second there was a brief commotion. While the Saviours complained to Laura about how long they had taken Maggie appeared in the doorway of Judith's bedroom, slipping past Tobin and moving into the hallway. The moment she saw her there Carrie felt her control slipping, the pang in her chest bursting into a surge of grief. In that moment Maggie looked nothing like a grieving widow, for despite her pale cheeks and the dark shadows beneath her eyes Carrie could see her true spirit, could feel the fire burning inside her.

Before Laura could stop her Maggie had engulfed Carrie into a tight hug, wrenching a strangled gasp from her throat as she tried not to speak. Without warning the grief struck her hard, and she could no longer pretend that what happened to Glenn and Abraham wasn't real. Being confronted with Maggie forced the reality on her, and in that instant days of remaining stoic were finished as she started to cry. When she closed her eyes she could see that night again, could hear the baseball bat whooshing through the air, could feel the thud of it hitting the ground with every swing Negan took to batter his victims into nothing. It was a small mercy that Maggie hadn't been there, that this wasn't her last memory of Glenn.

"We've all got jobs to do," Maggie murmured, her voice steady despite the emotion in her voice. "Just take care of you, everything else will be okay."

"Let go!" Laura shouted at them, pissed off. "Now!"

"You're going to be okay."

Though Maggie was already releasing her Laura intervened, grabbing her and roughly wrenching her back. Stumbling a little Maggie raised her hands cooperatively, but her short apology went unheard. Without delay Laura seized Carrie by the arm and was all but yanking her down the stairs, her face darkened with anger, furious that she had been shown up in front of the other Saviours. Her hand was painfully tight on Carrie's elbow, but when they reached the living room she released her and slowed to a stop and let go. Collecting herself, Laura wandered into the kitchen and took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders back and swinging her arms. On the other hand Carrie stood there in there in silence, trying to hold herself together as a howl of misery begged to be unleashed from her chest. She wanted to scream, to beg Negan to let her stay behind and be with her family, but even when tears welled up in her eyes she knew she couldn't do it.

"For fuck's sake," Laura cursed, looking at her in disdain. Her upper lip was curled, her eyes filled with contempt. "Keep your shit together, alright? Don't let them see you blubbering like a fucking baby."

Unable to stop it, a low sob passed her lips, and she bent over double as she tried to quell her emotions. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked back towards the staircase, wishing she could see Maggie one more time, that she could see Judith for just a moment. She wanted to scream _let me see my daughter_ , because wasn't that a reasonable thing to ask? She gasped for breath as her knees wobbled, and she started feeling faint.

There were heavy footsteps as Laura marched towards her, and Carrie didn't even have the breath to cry out _no_ when she seized her by the front of her sweater. Her eyes burning with malice, Laura was snarling at her as she roughly backed her up against one of the columns, holding her there as she stepped closer, invading her personal space. Their faces were inches away, and the way Laura looked at her in disdain was terrifying. Her captor could switch gears without warning, going from kindness to cruelty in a split second.

"You need to listen," Laura began, her voice dark with contempt. "Get it together, now. Do you understand?"

Though these words didn't make it easier to hold herself together, Carrie nodded cooperatively, and when she realised she was holding her breath she slowly released it.

"If you blubber like this in front of your people, they will panic and someone will get killed," she warned. "And if you blubber like this in front of Negan, he will lose any patience he may have for you. From now on, you're Johnson and Johnson."

Carrie stared at her blankly, not understanding, and then Laura rolled her eyes and explained.

"No more fucking tears," she said bluntly, yanking on her sweater to get her message cross. "Got it, Alexandria?"

For a moment she stood there and looked at her in astonishment, but as quickly as Laura changed tact so too could she. Just like she had last night when Laura had threatened to take her baby she felt something coming over her, a renewed sense of determination, a righteous anger.

"My name is Carrie."

Quirking her eyebrow, Laura seemed to be rather impressed. Just as she had done previously, she seemed to approve of Carrie biting back at her, even when she shouldn't. "I don't give a shit what your name is," she stated, releasing her and stepping back. "Now quit blubbering, or I'll tell Negan that you spoke."

Carrie momentary anger and determination faded as quickly as it grew, and with horror she realised what she had done. Softening her body language she looked at Laura with subservience, silently begging her not to tell Negan. She would do anything necessary to ensure that Daryl didn't suffer the consequences, that he wasn't the next to be murdered at Negan's hands. Despite the threat Laura seemed not to be holding it over her, and she simply took her by the arm and brought her into the kitchen, directing her to the sink and telling her to wash her face.

With such easy access to knives and other such weapons Laura maintained close supervision while she washed her face, watching her every move as she then directed her to have a drink of water. Soon enough she seemed satisfied with her efforts, and then she paused to take a deep breath, for perhaps she too needed to collect herself. As she waited Carrie looked down at the kitchen counter, remembering how she enjoyed watching Daryl bustling around in here, looking so odd in a domestic setting. Looking back at Laura she came perilously close to begging her not to say anything to Negan, for she would probably enjoy having something else with which to torment her, but she didn't care say another word.

Without further delay Laura took her by the arm once again, and this time her grip was looser, feeling more in control of herself. They marched outside and onto the road, Carrie taking one last look over her shoulder at the home she was leaving behind, praying that she caught a glimpse of someone through the windows. But instead the only Alexandrian's she saw were those out on the street who watched on as the Saviours packed their loot into the trucks. As they passed their attention turned to Carrie, looking at her in despair and pity.

"You're gonna be okay," Michael called out from the pavement, he and Eric keeping pace with them until a Saviour stopped them.

"It'll work out, Carrie," Eric added supportively. "You'll be home soon."

Though she appreciated the effort, Carrie didn't acknowledge them, didn't even raise her head. Instead she kept her head bowed, unable to stand the sight of what was happening to her home and the people there. She allowed Laura to lead the way, some of the Saviours directing them to the other side of the community where Negan was. Only when they made their way around to the front of the townhouses did she glance up, taking note of the commotion. Parked outside the third townhouse was one of the trucks from the Sanctuary, and as they drew closer she felt a small flicker of satisfaction. The Saviours had cleared out the two armouries upstairs, and judging by the little red book that Negan was flicking through they were under the impression that had taken everything. But Alexandria had been prepared for this, with most of their weapons having already been moved to locations elsewhere. Their armoury was extensive thanks to the supply run to Georgia, the underground bunker cache, various police stations and gun stores, not to mention what they scavenged from supply runs and Walkers. What had been taken from them that day didn't even account for twenty percent of their total cache, nor did it include their higher powered weapons.

The little red book Negan was flicking through had been thoroughly doctored, Carrie and Olivia having deleted their intricate spreadsheets of inventory and usage forecasts. In fact they had ditched the computerised version all together and started a handwritten inventory, wrinkling the pages, switching back and forth between pen colours, making errors and amending them with correction fluid. By the time they had finished it looked like a genuine log that Olivia had been keeping from the very day Alexandria started.

As they drew nearer Carrie cast her eyes around, taking stock of everyone in the vicinity, but in particular Carl who was standing by Rick's right hand side. When he turned around and saw her his jaw dropped, and before he could think twice he had started towards her. Despite this she knew it wouldn't be allowed, and before she could shake her head to tell him no, Rick had noticed. Following his son a few steps he grabbed him by the back of his shirt, quickly glancing at her before subserviently averting his eyes.

"Any trouble with her?" Negan asked, having noticed the source of Rick and Carl's attention. As he spoke he looked Carrie up and down, satisfied with her changed appearance.

"No trouble," Laura answered, allowing Carrie to breathe a small sigh of relief. She wasn't going to tell Negan what she had done, the almost fatal mistake she had made.

Negan smiled, and he glanced over at Rick as he stood up and handed the red book to Arat. "Did she get all…soaped up?" he asked, staring at Carrie. "Wash all that filth away?"

"Yes."

He gestured to Laura for the pack, still staring at Carrie until he opened it and took a look inside. "Clean clothes," he stated, reciting what he found in there. When he came across the box of breast pads and her nursing bras he didn't comment, apparently not set on embarrassing her. "Lotion. Hair brush. Toothbrush and paste."

Dropping the back to the ground he turned around and looked at Rick, giving a dramatic shrug and gesturing with his hands. "She's showered, has clean clothes, and can style her hair. Satisfied?"

Looking past Negan, Rick dared to quickly glance at her again, but it was so fleeting that he didn't even make eye contact. With only one acceptable answer available he lowered his gaze and gave a short nod, a gesture of submission that symbolised his helplessness. Even if he wasn't satisfied, he couldn't say so.

"Let's get this show on the road," Negan declared, gesturing to the truck and then to Carrie and Daryl. "D, you do the honours."

At this Laura released her and walked away, glad to be done with her hostage duties. For a beautiful moment Carrie stood completely alone, untouched by any of those mongrels, but it was only fleeting. Following orders Dwight ushered her over to Daryl, releasing one of his hands from the cuffs then slapping it around her wrist. He gave them a quick shake to ensure they were secure, but at the last second he slipped his finger between the metal and the top of Carrie's wrist, making sure it wasn't too tight on her. As could be expected he showed none of this care to Daryl, the cuff around his wrist having been tightened to the point of discomfort.

When they started off and made their way back down to the gates, Carrie slipped two of her fingers around Daryl's, the only way she could communicate with him. Ahead of them walked Carl and Rick, the sight of Lucille in his hand making her stomach turn. She knew what that had to be doing, how sickened he must feel to to hold that in his hands, but what was he to do? The longer she looked at him the harder it became to hold herself back from speaking. She wanted to ask him what was going to happen, what they were going to do about all of this…never had they imagined that this would happen. She needed to know what he was thinking, desperate for some way to communicate with him that wouldn't risk their lives.

She felt herself choking up, and instead of focusing on Rick she tightened her fingers around Daryl's, glad when he returned the gesture. It didn't matter how badly she wanted to go to Rick, the overwhelming desperation to hold him, to be held. They couldn't have it, that type of thing was over now…she couldn't even speak to him, let alone kiss him or hug him. The sooner she accepted that the easier it would be for her.

The gate was already opened, three of the Saviours trucks already driving out and disappearing down the road. Two more passed them as they walked, but these stopped inside the open gate, as did Negan.

"It's a nice place you got here Rick," he complimented, turning around and looking at him proudly. "Just beautiful."

Everyone slowed to a stop, but while Carl lingered where he had stopped Rick walked a few more paces, something outside the walls having caught his attention. He lingered there a moment as he looked, and then he braced himself before turning back to face Negan. The two of them spoke quietly, but unable to hear anything Carrie simply watched on. When Rick turned and walked out of the walls she didn't bother questioning what was going on, and instead she turned her attention to Carl. She could feel him staring at her and Daryl, his hands clenched into fists down by his side. Knowing what he was like, that all too often he spoke his mind when he ought to instead shut up, she tried to ease his worries. Relaxing her shoulders she tried to give him a reassuring nod, subtly gesturing with her hand for him to stand down, to watch his temper. Though he noticed her gestures he paid them little attention, not that she could blame him. Daryl was in a poorly state, and she was heavily pregnant with his sibling…not much was going to reassure him.

"Look at this!" Negan happily declared, bringing everyone's attention outside the walls.

Rick was returning now with a rifle in hand, and behind him was Michonne. Over her shoulders she was carrying a dead deer, it's head and limbs lolling with every heavy step she took, but she slowed down as she entered the walls. Her eyes widened when she saw Carrie and Daryl, scouring every inch of them and taking in their state, one perfectly clean and well, the other quite the opposite. Thankfully she held her tongue, averting her gaze as she headed towards Carl and lingered protectively by his side.

"She was hunting," Rick explained, handing over the rifle. "This one never came inside, we kept it out."

"Look at this," Negan repeated, sounding the happiest Carrie had ever seen him. He was practically beaming now, giving the rifle a quick once over before passing it on and turning back to Rick. "This is something to build a relationship on. Good for you, Rick," he praised cheerfully, genuinely pleased. "This is reading the room and getting the message."

There was a brief pause, Rick lowering his gaze to the road. "Now you know I can follow your rules…"

"Yes?"

With a deep breath he looked up at him. "Please, let Carrie stay."

"Not gonna happen."

"I can go with you instead," Carl spoke up, coming forward now. "I can work for you, I-"

"Carl," Rick intervened, raising his hand. "Stop."

"No, no," Negan shook his head, ignoring Rick. "Let the kid and his giant man size balls speak. Go on. What are you suggesting?"

"I can work for you," he said without hesitation. "I'm a good shot, I can kill Walkers. I build things, I know how to weld, garden, cook, chop firewood. Whatever you want me to do, I can do it."

"Well, kid. I'd lov-"

"Let her stay, and I'll set up the surveillance system for you," he added. "I didn't do it the first time, but I know how it worked. I used to fix it when the cameras went down, and I can set…"

He trailed off when Negan waved him down. In silence he looked at Rick, and then slowly he dragged his gaze over to Carrie, studying her for a long moment. Though she couldn't say anything, she held Negan's gaze and stared him down. Her thoughts on the matter meant nothing to him, but she was going to share them anyway.

"I'd love to have you at the Sanctuary," Negan assured Carl, turning back to him. "I'd turn you upside down and inside out." Taunting him now he moved towards him, clasping him by the shoulder and staring at him intently. "I can see that you've got some spark, kid. Couple of years, you'd be one of my top men, you'd be running your own outpost in no time."

Carl looked at him expectantly. "So?"

Scoffing in disbelief, Negan released him and then looked around at the Saviours. "Can you believe this kid?" he laughed, echoed by them too. "How do those balls fit in your jeans?"

"I can do it. I'll work for you."

Negan shook his head, allowing both Carrie and Rick to breathe a sign of relief. "Kid, you've missed the entire fucking point. It's a big fat no from me," he decided, and then he turned back to Rick now. "A no on both accounts."

"What is it going to take for you to let her stay?" Rick asked heavily, conscious of how much ground he was losing.

Exasperated now, Negan gave a great sigh. "Look at her, Rick. You can look at her, go on," he encouraged. Placing his hand on his shoulder he turned him to face Carrie, waiting until he had looked up. In that moment she held his gaze, making sure to keep herself calm and in control. Laura was right. If Rick saw her upset and despairing, he would only make things worse.

"You see? I'm a man of my word. I hear what you're telling me," Negan continued, gesturing to her now. "She is clean and clothed from the top of her head right down to her itty bitty toes, and _everywhere_ in between. And when we get home, I'll take her to see my doctor. I'll provide for her and your baby, and all you have to do is get over that tall wall of yours and earn for me. When I'm back in a week you'd better have something interesting for me. I want you to make me feel like it's fucking Christmas again!" he loudly declared, giving Rick's shoulder a shake. He then softened his tone, sounding strangely kind. "And then, maybe we can negotiate."

Still looking at her, Rick braced himself before clarifying. "Negotiate for her return?"

"No," he shook his head. "If you impress me enough, then maybe…just maybe, you can be there to hold her hand when she has your baby. It's the least you could do for her, right? I mean, she is having your baby."

"When can she come home?"

Negan ignored this. "But if you don't impress me," he warned, tightly squeezing Rick's shoulder. "She can give birth on the floor of her cell like a barn animal. Do you understand, Rick?"

He held her gaze a moment longer, but he quickly looked away as if trying to hide from her, not wanting to let her see what he was feeling. Slowly he nodded, murmuring his agreement so softly that even Negan had to lean in to hear him. Nevertheless it seemed to be enough, and Negan released his shoulder and stepped back.

"Let me ask you something, Rick. Do you want me to go?"

There was a heavy pause as he raised his gaze and looked at him. "I think that'd be good."

Negan smiled, tilting his head. "Just say those two magic words."

On the inside Carrie groaned, for though she knew Rick would say or do whatever he needed to get them out of here, she hated that he had to do it. Negan was trying to emasculate him, to beat him down and remind him of his new place, that he was now powerless. Nevertheless Rick did what he had to, but he glanced up at the sky as he braced himself to say the words that would taste bitter on his tongue.

"Thank you."

An amused chuckle came from Negan's mouth, and he was smirking now. "Don't be ridiculous. Thank you!" Still smirking he turned away and looked to the Saviours. "Arat. Grab that deer, it's getting late. Let's go home."

Looking at him in disdain, Michonne released the deer from her grip and let it fall to the ground behind her. Without a word she turned and walked away, though not before taking Carl with her. He followed cooperatively, and as he passed them by he raised his hand ever so slightly to Carrie and Daryl, his expression apologetic. While Arat and Laura picked up the deer and hauled it towards one of the trucks the remainder of the Saviours were also mobilising, some of them heading out of the gates to get into the vehicles that lingered out there, while others clambered into the back of the two inside the walls.

Through the commotion Carrie and Daryl stood in silence, not knowing quite what they should do. Dwight had left their side in favour of Daryl's motorcycle that had made a miraculous reappearance. Proudly taking a seat he reached up and gripped each of the handles, admiring the bike that had once belonged to Daryl's brother, the infamous Merle. The engine roared to life, Dwight giving it a couple of revs while the others watched on enviously. Not caring for his smug display Carrie turned her attention back to Rick and Negan, watching as the latter got up close and personal, reaching in front of him to take back possession of Lucille.

"Thank you for being so accomodating, friend."

Rick was staring straight ahead, and when Negan leant closer again and whispered she was certain she saw him flinch. His body was hard and tense, relaxing only when Negan smirked again before walking away, leaving him alone.

The revving of the motorcycles engine was intrusively loud as Dwight used his feet to bring it around, pausing in front of Carrie and Daryl. Flaunting his prize he stared at Daryl intently, enjoying this moment. "You can have it back," he offered. "Just say the word."

Not quite understanding, Carrie glanced at Daryl, noting the way he stared at the ground. Whatever game Dwight was trying to play, Daryl was not partaking. Having said his piece Dwight loudly revved the engine and then took off, slowing at the gate and allowing Laura to jump on the back. She was laughing in excitement as she reached back to untie her long hair from the tight bun, and then she slipped her arms around Dwight's waist as they took off together. While they disappeared into the distance another Saviour came forward and seized Daryl by the scruff of his sweater, shoving him towards the truck they had arrived in. It was David, one of the Saviours who was often prowling the halls when Carrie was escorted outside for her thrice daily dose of fresh air. The guy gave her the creeps, making her almost glad that it was Negan following her over to the truck to take the seat beside her.

"We'll see you in a week," Negan said, standing below her as she slowly climbed into the cabin of the truck. "Don't forget, it better feel like Christmas!"

Taking the last chance she had, Carrie settled on the edge of the seat and looked down at Rick, wishing once again that there was something she could say to him. Hell, she didn't even want to ask him what they were going to do, how they were going to get out of this. All she wanted to do was offer him comfort, to reassure him that she was coping. But in the end she had to settle for only a small nod, for all too quickly Negan was climbing the side steps into the cabin. Taking one last look at her husband Carrie tore her eyes away and then shuffled over, sitting as close to Daryl as possible. Just like before Negan took his seat and hauled up feet up onto the dash, but he made no particular effort to touch her, to make her uncomfortable. His leg was pressed up against hers, his elbow against her upper arm, but other than that he paid her little attention.

While David took the driver's seat and started the engine, Negan slung one hand out the window, spreading his fingers out into a wave of goodbye.

* * *

Spirits low and the bitter taste of disappointment in his mouth, Rick stood in the open gate and watched as the final two vehicles disappeared down the road. In the cabin of the first was Carrie and Daryl, cuffed together again as they began their journey back to the Sanctuary ninety minutes north east. He hadn't known what to expect from the first encounter with the Saviours, but he hadn't been prepared to see his wife and brother again, to be unable to do anything to help them. As he stared down the empty road he began to see why Negan had brought them along, and it wasn't just to keep his behaviour in line. He wanted Rick to see how helpless he was, to remind remind him that the only thing he could do was beg and earn.

It had worked.

Trying not to think too much about the state Daryl was in, he drew his machete from its holster and turned to his left. He could hear a Walker coming, and though he ought to just close the gates and go back inside he set off in search of it. Drawn by the sound of the loud engines it materialised quickly, racing towards him as fast as its rotten limbs could move. It was no different to any other Walker he'd ever encountered, neither significantly decayed or in tact, but the mere sight of it sparked a rage inside of him, a rage he'd been forced to withhold. Rather than dispose of it quickly he marched straight over and shoved it, enjoying the way it's arms flailed about as it stumbled and fell.

With Michonne minding the open gate he gave the Walker his full attention, waiting and watching as it slowly picked itself up from the ground and came back for him. It snarled and snapped its jaws at him, its eagerness to take a piece of him only growing when he shoved it away again. But this time it merely stumbled rather than fall, and that only pissed him off even more. With a furious yell he swung the machete at the neck, hacking the head off after two more attempts.

Panting, he scowled down at the lifeless body and the separated head. While the jaws continued snapping while the eyes followed his every move, he leant down and wiped his machete clean on the Walker's clothing, and then he quickly searched the body. As with most corpses the gun it carried was empty of bullets, but the gun itself was a start. No matter what they did next, Rick had to come through with something in one week, he had to keep Negan satisfied. Against his will he pictured Carrie sprawled out on the floor of a dark room, labouring to deliver their baby without anyone by her side, no one to help, to offer comfort.

Confident that the vicinity was now clear again he lingered a little longer, looking around for something that ought to litter the ground in numerous quantities, for it had been some time since they had come out to do a sweep for this now precious resource. Finding one laying in the dirt he picked it up and brushed it clean, observing the small metal casing for major imperfections. Satisfied he slipped it into a pouch of his duty belt and went back inside. While the Walkers head snarled at the world he took one last look down the empty road before dragging the gate closed. As he secured the lock he took a slow breath, needing to hold himself together for the time being. Today was just the beginning…there was much for him to do.

"We need to do a full sweep," he started, turning to Michonne who was waiting with her arms folded, scowling. "Make sure there're none left."

"They've already started," she said lowly, pursing her lips as she looked around.

He too looking around he observed the behaviour of his people. They were coming out of their houses again, some of them gathering to commiserate what had happened, but most appeared to be getting things into order. Aaron was directing people, telling them to get started on the plan they had prepared to enact following the first visit from the Saviours. A full sweep of the community would be undertaken, every nook and cranny investigated to ensure that not one of those mongrels remained. Elsewhere people were returning to their watch posts, Francine and Gerald climbing the ladder to the nearest post above the gates.

"Did you see Daryl's shoulder," Michonne asked, her voice still low and soft. "It had a clean dressing on it. His stomach too."

Daryl at least had been to see a doctor. "I saw," he confirmed, grateful for any small win his people had. "Get a group, take them out for rounds. I want to be sure there's no one out there still digging up this cabling."

As he said this he looked at the long lines of earth where the surveillance system had been dug up. It had taken them months to get the cabling and cameras set up into a three hundred and sixty degree view, but barely thirty minutes for the Saviours to dig it all up. Ahead of him at the intersection was Carl, his son expectantly waiting for him as he twirled the brim of his hat around in his hands. He was waiting to find out how much trouble he was in, for it was clear to all present that his offer to take Carrie's place had not been well received by anyone.

"Dad," he began hesitantly. "I know you're mad, but…"

When Rick shook his head he trailed off. He didn't want to hear his apologies, and instead leant down and pressed a kiss to the top of his forehead. That and those few brief words were as much interaction as he and Carl had over the last few days, both of them unable to find the words for one another. Needing it, he brought his son close and held him for just a moment, recalling what he had said to Negan, his offer of working for him in exchange for Carrie, the insistence that he was willing to do anything.

 _I'd turn you upside down and inside out…couple of years, you'd be one of my top men, you'd be running your own outpost in no time_.

When he let him go they fell into step alongside one another, but they didn't walk in silence.

"Carrie's doing okay," Carl started. "They haven't raped her. I know you were worried about that happening."

Rick felt his chest tighten at this comment, hating to hear that word coming out of his son's mouth. "How do you know?"

When he looked down at him there was a small smile playing on his face. "Because she wrote it on the bathroom mirror."

"Carrie wrote that?" he frowned, not daring to believe it. He slowed to a stop and looked at him expectantly, not daring to believe it.

"Yeah. I think she used lipstick."

Needing to see it for himself Rick started off again, his feet carrying him even faster than before. All around him the community was mobilising, but thankfully none of them tried to interrupt him to talk or ask questions, keeping their distance and allowing him a few blessed moments of privacy. Rushing home he paid little attention to the state of the house, not caring about the overturned furniture or missing television. Upstairs Tobin was still manning his post outside Judith's bedroom, and judging by the light murmur from inside it was still filled to the brim with their most vulnerable people. He looked down the hall at Carl's open bedroom door, noticing the bed sheets and various possessions all tossed onto the floor, but the door to the adjacent nursery was still closed.

"They looked, but they didn't go inside," Tobin assured him. "Same with us. They checked us for weapons, took a quick look in her room, and then left us alone."

"Thank you," he said in gratitude.

Looking inside his daughter's bedroom he observed the people in there, taking particular notice of Maggie. She sat atop Judith's bureau with Herschel on her lap, the little baby smiling and cooing at Connor who was entertaining him. Just like she had for days now Maggie avoided him, looking elsewhere so that they didn't have to face one another. Right now it was too hard, their raw grief too much to share.

Without further delay he went inside his own bedroom, and just like the rest of the house he paid the destruction no attention. The mattress was gone, broken glass from the mirror scattered all over the carpet, but he was unconcerned by the mess. With trepidation he made his way into the bathroom, and the writing on the mirror was the first thing he looked to. Just as Carl had told him a message had been hurriedly scrawled in red lipstick, and as he stood back and looked at it he felt the ache in his chest ease just a little.

 _Daryl not good. They haven't raped me. Carlene._

As the message sunk in he let out a shaky breath, his body trembling with relief. He had tried to convince himself that Carrie hadn't been violated, to ignore the vile things that Negan had been saying to taunt him, but it was easier said than done. Now in hindsight he recalled the way Negan had been watching her get into the truck, the way he lingered below. Rick had expected him to touch her, to slap her ass or grope her in some way, but he hadn't. At the time it had confused him, particularly given how he had started her brief absence bragging about having sex with her, how enjoyable she was.

But the message on their bathroom mirror put all of that to rest, Rick confident that it had come directly from her, not one of the Saviours. She had signed it with her full name, Carlene, a name they were unlikely to know her by. The longer he looked at it the more the ache in his chest eased, though it wasn't going away completely. She had wanted him to know this, to reassure him and get every sick thought of what was happening to her out of his head. It was perhaps as much as relief as it was to see that no more of his people had been hurt or killed during their first tribute.

His cheeks were wet with tears by now, but he didn't wipe them away. Instead he looked around a little more, noticing the evidence that Carrie had been here and it wasn't all a dream. She had gone to the effort of picking up his toothbrush and returning it to the holder, of straightening up his towel on the railing…his two bad habits that annoyed her the most, and she had corrected them. At this thought he let out a small laugh, feeling a grim smile coming across his face.

Carrie had been here. She was alive, her spirit in tact…and she wanted him to know it.

Clinging to this notion he returned to the bedroom, trying to straighten things up so that he had something to occupy himself with. He would need to thoroughly clean in here before the day's end, to ensure that Judith didn't get glass in her feet when she inevitably came in during the night, and so he started by picking up the shards. As he worked he listened to the sound of the people vacating Judith's bedroom now that it was safe to come out, glad when none of them came in to speak with him. He could hear Conner and Courtney chattering away as they left, followed by quiet murmurs from the adults, but he tuned them out. Right now he didn't have the capacity to worry about them too.

Carelessly tossed aside was the wooden box Carl had made him for Father's Day, the contents scattered across the carpet. His heart clenched when he picked up the photograph of himself, Carl and Lori, one of the many he was determined to hang on to for Judith's sake. Formerly pristine, the corner of the photograph was folded over, leaving a crinkled line when he tried to smooth it out. Trying not to dwell on it he placed it back into the box and put it back on the bureau, still hearing shards of glass beneath his feet as he walked. When he picked up the discarded comforter he found even more beneath it, becoming frustrated by a small nick a piece made on his thumb.

He looked up at the sound of someone knocking on the door, but when he saw Maggie and Herschel in the threshold he averted his eyes. It felt like an insult for him to be upset about Carrie when Maggie's spouse was gone forever, and days later he still could hardly look her in the eye. No matter the circumstances that brought them all before Negan he felt responsible for what happened, that he should have been able to do something to save Glenn.

"How bad is it?" he asked softly, gesturing to her house next door.

She seemed surprised by his question, but she answered. "They left Herschel's things alone…everything else is just things."

"Good," he said quietly, not knowing what else to say. Thankfully she continued for him.

"There's someone for you downstairs."

"Can they wait?"

"You don't want them to wait."

At her tone of voice he looked up, surprised to hear a hint of what felt like optimism. Though it was clear she was having just as hard a time facing him as he was facing her, there was a small smile on her face. She readjusted the way she carried Herschel, moving him higher up her hip when Rick passed her by as he headed for the stairs.

"This isn't over, Rick," she murmured. "We are going to fight them."

Feeling her hand brushing his upper arm he paused and looked back at her, for the simple gesture of reaching out to him spoke volumes. "Yes, we are."

Leaving it at that, the most interaction they'd shared in days, he went straight downstairs at her instructions. Though the downstairs too was a mess there wasn't a moment to take notice, and he found himself momentarily struck dumb upon finding Jesus and Dianne waiting for him in the living room. For a long moment he simply stared at them in astonishment, and his first thought was to ask _where the hell have you been?_

Without hesitation Dianne came to him, knowing him well enough to embrace him though they hadn't yet spoken a single word. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, letting him go and looking him in the eye. "We hoped this would never happen again."

Though grateful for her words he said nothing, his throat tightening before he glanced at Jesus.

"I'm sorry too," he said solemnly. "There was nothing we could do."

He looked between them both. "You knew?"

"Jesus and I were bringing Carson here," Dianne began to explain. "We saw the Saviours setting up the roadblocks, just like they did to us the first time. We wanted to warn you, but they were everywhere. We couldn't get through."

"When was this?" he asked, his voice not feeling like his own.

"Tuesday, close to dusk."

He sighed, looking down at his boots. "It was already too late. They had us by then."

"We tried to come here after," Jesus added. "Dianne and I have been camped out for days, but until now the Saviours have been watching the roads around here."

"I know."

"Well, they've cleared out now. Your first tribute, I take it?"

He nodded, and when he looked up he forced himself to ask the question he had been dreading for days. "Lana. Did she make it?"

Relief was awarded quickly, both Dianne and Jesus managing a smile. "She's going to be okay…she's been showing her ultrasound to everyone. I swear she even showed it to-"

"Ultrasound?" he interrupted, clarifying another point. "She didn't lose the baby?"

"No," Jesus smiled. "Doctor Carson removed her appendix, and she's going to be fine. She just needs to rest for a while."

With a low sigh of relief he glanced towards the front door where Carl, Michonne and Rosita were lingering, all of them needing a moment to process the news. That was the whole reason they had gone that day, to save Lana's life, to save her pregnancy. But their celebration had to be delayed, for it felt that any genuine happiness and relief was premature. The absence of one particular person there today was too obvious to ignore, and so Rick addressed the elephant in the room.

"Richard?"

"He's dead," Dianne answered after a pause. "Benjamin too."

Cursing under his breath he glanced back at Carl, conscious that he and Benjamin had been friends at the Kingdom, that he was barely older than eighteen. "What happened?"

"The Saviours. All over a melon," she said heavily, trailing off and clearing her throat. "It's why we never made it here with Brea."

Taking a moment to collect his thoughts Rick stepped back and leant against the dining table, one hand resting on his duty belt. It was easy to forget that there was a world outside of Alexandria, that the Saviours were spreading their misery far and wide. But finally it was time to act…finally it was time to do _something_.

"Alexandria is going to war," he said bluntly, speaking on behalf of all his people. "We know where the Sanctuary is. We know all the routes to get there, where the guards are posted, where the armouries are, where their outposts are…everything. Are you willing to join us?"

Jesus and Dianne exchanged a glance with one another, but there was no need for a discussion.

"The Hilltop will fight with you," Jesus stated. "On the condition that Gregory doesn't know until the last minute."

"He's still a liability?"

"As much as it hurts me to say this about my leader, yes. If he knows were planning something, he might warn the Saviours."

"And the Kingdom?"

"We'll fight with you," Dianne said. "Richard and Benjamin's death was bad enough, but an attack on Alexandria is an attack on The Kingdom. Ezekiel's already told the people everything…we will go to war with you."

The agreement that the three communities were to go to war together should have made him happier, for more had been achieved in five minutes that it had in days, but there wouldn't be cause for celebration for quite some time. Instead Rick took a few moments to think it over, deciding on what their next steps out to be, and what they would need in the coming weeks.

"You should stay the night," he said softly, standing up and heading for the front door. "We'll find somewhere for you."

"And tomorrow?" Dianne asked. "What happens then?"

"I want to go to the Hilltop if it's safe," he decided, zipping up his jacket before going outside. "I need to see Lana."

"It will be safe," Jesus assured him. "Now that you've had your first tribute, the Saviours expect you to be out on the roads looking for your next tribute."

"You can go almost anywhere now," Dianne added. "They won't bother you again."

He left without another word, Rosita falling into step beside him as they made their way across Alexandria. By now most had returned to their homes, but some people were lingering outside a little longer, Olivia watching the kids playing in the street before while their homes were cleaned up enough for them to return. Judith was there with her, kept warm in her winter coat and hat as she drew on the road with chalk, completely oblivious to what had happened that day, to how close her mother had been to her. He didn't stop to say hello, grateful that she didn't even look up from her play as he passed her by.

Letting Rosita lead the way he entered her home, the place she had shared with Abraham until only a few short weeks ago. Now she shared only with Eugene, and it was straight to his room that they went, knowing they would find him in there despairing over the loss of his Playstation and television.

"Eugene, open up," Rosita said loudly as she knocked on the door.

"Entry is denied," he said bluntly. "I am indisposed."

Not caring, Rosita turned the door knob and swung it open, revealing Eugene sitting morosely on his empty bed frame. He glared at her in disapproval, and in his hands he clutched an empty video game case.

"What if I _was_ indisposed?"

"Nothing I haven't seen before," she said dryly, leaning against the door frame.

Getting straight to the point Rick entered the room, the cold draught bringing his attention to the broken window. Nevertheless he couldn't afford to give it a second thought, so instead opened the pouch on his duty belt and withdrew the small metal casing.

"Take a look at these," he said, passing it to Eugene. From the back of his waistband he took the handgun and its empty magazine, passing those to him too. "Have you ever made any?"

Showing little to no expression, Eugene took the items in question and stared at them blankly, but Rick knew his mind was racing already. "Ammunition? No, I have not."

"Can you do it?"

"You would like me to manufacture a bullet?"

"No. Thousands."

Eugene paused a moment, still staring at the items. "And I correct in the assumption that you require said thousands of bullets, tickety-boo?"

"Tickety-boo?"

"Immediately. In good time. Tickety-boo."

Rick sighed, both exhausted and refreshed by Eugene. "Tickety-boo," he confirmed. "Thank you."

"I'll need a week at least," he murmured, getting to his feet as the empty video game case clattered to the floor. "A week, three labourers, a beam or electronic scale, an ultrasonic jewellery cleaner, digital calipers-"

"You've got five days."

Eugene shook his head, looking up at him. "Seven days. _Business days_."

Rick shook his head, clasping him on the shoulder. "Five days." Leaving it at that he began to depart, both he and Rosita confident that Eugene would be able to pull it off.

"It's your birthday in five days, is it not?"

Pausing in the threshold he frowned, surprised that Eugene of all people would know this. "Yes."

"How old will you be?"

Getting the impression this was going somewhere, he played along. "Thirty nine."

Eugene looked back at the empty casing, nodding to himself for a moment. "Then on said thirty ninth birthday, I will present to you thirty nine bullets in lieu of a cake. In fact…you can make me a cake." He looked up again, his expression plainly serious. "Do we have a deal?"

He looked at him incredulously, but there was no doubt in his mind that he would make it happen. "Deal."

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading everyone! Next chapter things start changing for the better and a new course is set for Carrie! Please leave a review - thanks!


	48. Chapter 48

Much like their first journey that morning, the return trip home passed in near silence, and so too did their arrival back at the Sanctuary. As the truck came to a stop Negan opened his door and climbed down without so much as a word, Lucille resting against his left shoulder. For a few moments she and Daryl sat in complete solitude, their fingers looped around one another's in a loose grip that was their only means of communication. A squeeze here and there, the sensation of his thumb rubbing against her wrist…she needed that, and maybe he did too.

Too soon David appeared below her, waving at her to come down and then standing there expectantly, waiting. Doing as she was told she shuffled over to the edge and slowly lowered herself down the side steps, struggling a little with her left hand still cuffed to Daryl's right. Waiting, David reached up to take her hand, and to her frustration she was forced to accept it. Though only a few feet above the ground it was quite disconcerting, her centre of balance not as reliable as it used to be. On the inside she cringed when David helped her down, but just like everyone else he didn't try to touch her inappropriately.

Safely on the ground she withdrew her hand from his, simply turning back to Daryl and helping him down too. His right shoulder was still hunched forward, his body tense as he endured the pain and discomfort from his gunshot wound. But the Saviours seemed not to care, with David coming forward and seizing him by the back of the sweater and cruelly yanking him down the last step. At this Daryl growled under his breath, but perhaps with Carrie there he chose not to react the way he wanted to. When they were escorted away from the trucks the sound of a familiar engine came their way, and from around the corner appeared Dwight on Daryl's motorcycle.

Clearly flaunting it, he brought the motorcycle past them, proudly revving the engine. Seated on the back was Laura, her long blonde hair streaming out behind her, and for once she had an actual smile on her face. They came to a stop a few yards away, Dwight revving the engine again as Laura climbed off the back. She said something to him, and with a friendly punch to the shoulder she let him ride off. He took his time with it, looking over his shoulder in the hopes that Daryl was watching, but he didn't get the satisfaction. As Dwight disappeared around the corner and the engine noise faded Daryl was standing with his head down, eyes cast on the ground before him.

Carrie on the other hand was looking around, paying attention to what was happening. On the other side of the yard Negan had approached Laura, the two of them were talking between themselves, while elsewhere Simon was corralling the Saviours into unpacking the vehicles. Four people emerged from the Sanctuary wearing the same beige clothing Daryl was, and on their back was a bright red letter just like his. At the direction of the Saviours they headed for the trucks and surveyed the contents, while others lingered with clipboards waiting to take inventory.

"I'll take her from here. You got the key?"

At the sound of Laura's voice Carrie looked around in alarm, her stomach lurching when she realised she and Daryl were to be separated. While she had known it had to be coming it wasn't something she had felt ready for, she didn't want to be apart from him again. When David came forward and removed the cuff from around her wrist she decided to take a chance.

"Can't I stay with him?" she asked, though she knew what the answer was. "I won't m-"

"No," Laura said shortly, not willing to hear her out. She looked to David, scrutinising him. "You okay with him?"

"I think I've got it handled," he said dryly, giving her a smug look. Without a hint of kindness he put the cuff around Daryl's other wrist and tightened it, yanking on the chain between to make him start walking.

Taking her last opportunity Carrie leapt forward, forcing Daryl to stop in his tracks as she hastily put her arms around him. "We're going to be okay," she whispered, holding him for as long as she dared.

He said nothing in return, gave no indication that he had even heard her, but she didn't take it to heart. Knowing she was only annoying the Saviours she quickly released him and stepped away, allowing David to yank on the handcuffs again and start leading him back towards the Sanctuary. Not torturing herself she didn't watch him go, and instead she looked away to Laura instead. With a small sigh she extended her hands to be cuffed, a small gesture of cooperation. Laura seemed to be in a better mood now, perhaps there was something to gain out of that.

Laura glanced at her extended hands but didn't say anything. Instead she was running her own hands through her long thick hair, neatly gathering it before twisting it into a bun on the back of her head. All the while she was looking at Carrie, her eyes occasionally darting down to her hands…or was it her belly she was looking at? Well practiced, she slipped a band from her wrist and fastened it around the bun, then turned and walked away from her.

"You comin', or what?"

Bewildered, it took Carrie a moment to make sense of what had been said, but quickly enough she caught on. A little unsure of things she lowered her hands and then hastened to follow her across the yard. When she caught up Carrie looked around, waiting for someone to stop them, to reprimand Laura for not having her hostage restrained, but nothing of the sort happened. Simon had noticed them departing, but other than giving them a quick once over he showed no interest, most of his attention focused on the work to be done.

It was warmer inside, but there wasn't much time to appreciate this given the strange course of events. As she followed Laura it very soon became clear that she wasn't being escorted back down into the basement, but rather into the depths of the Sanctuary itself. That morning she hadn't been able to keep up with the route they had taken, and now everything she was seeing was entirely new to her. Thirty seconds into their journey came the sound of a low hum, the sound of activity and life revealing itself when they turned another corner.

"The ground floor is where the workers live and…work," Laura said, escorting Carrie through. "We'll come back in a minute."

Forced to keep up lest she be left behind Carrie couldn't catch more than a few glimpses of the cavernous room, taking note of the overhead walkways and what looked like a great number of manned stalls. All in all it was dreary and unwelcoming, the smell of cooking food only just noticeable over the unappealing smell of sweat and dust. During their brief appearance there she could feel the eyes of many people following her, people putting down their work to observe the stranger, conversations stopping mid-sentence when they noticed her swollen belly.

As quickly as they had arrived they were gone, Laura taking her down another hallway and up a flight of stairs. Just like it had that morning the walls and corridors all looked the same, making her feel disoriented as she tried to keep track of where she was. But before she could even try keeping up they came to a stop, Laura gesturing to one of two side by side doors, one with a female silhouette and the other a male silhouette. Scrawled in red spray paint below each sign were the words _Chicks_ and _Dicks_.

"I figured it was a good place to start."

Although she didn't want to express any kind of gratitude to the people keeping her hostage, this time Carrie allowed a soft _thank you_ to pass her lips as she went inside. It was becoming clearer and clearer that she was here to stay, but perhaps things were going to be different than days previous…if she played along and said the right things, then maybe it would work in her favour.

"Don't waste the toilet paper," Laura instructed her as she slipped into a stall and turned the lock. "Pump the handle once for number one, twice for number two."

"Got it," she replied, taking a quick look at the external water tank that would fill the cistern. Understanding the way the contraption worked she quickly went about relieving herself, grateful that Laura had thought about this for her.

"Carson's expecting you later today. He's the doctor," she added, filling in the time as she waited for Carrie to finish up. "So, the baby's breech, huh?"

"Yes," she replied shortly, not really wanting to talk about the baby with her, or any of them for that matter.

"Carson will know what to do. He's delivered babies here before."

This comment made Carrie take pause, her brow furrowing. "There are babies here?"

"Sure there are. As long as people are having sex, there's gonna be babies. If you're the right woman having a baby is a meal ticket, especially if you or the father are high up with Negan."

"And if you're not the right woman?"

"Then you keep working like everyone else."

Finishing up she exited the stall and made her way to the sinks, washing her hands in silence as she thought about what Laura had said. Which category was she and her baby going to fall in? Would Negan provide her with the comforts she had anticipated from home, or the bare essentials to keep them alive?

Thinking back to earlier she recalled being in the laundry room when she heard what had sounded like a child's laughter. "I haven't seen any babies around here," she commented, shaking the water from her hands.

"Obviously. They don't mingle with the workers."

Finished now, Carrie followed her out of the restroom and back down the way they had come, and this time she managed to recall the path they had taken. Two corridors later they descended a flight of stairs, returning to the ground floor and heading back to the marketplace occupied by the general workforce. For a moment she simply stood there and looked around, taking it all in. The cavernous room was dingy and poorly lit, only just enough light filtering in through the grimy windows, and up above everyone was a series of walkways from which a few Saviours appeared to be taking watch, supervising the day to day activities. On the other side of the room was what appeared to be private areas screened off by sheets and blankets, creating a look that resembled some sort of makeshift bunk house.

"You hungry?" Laura asked expectantly. "I'll get you something. What do you want?"

Carrie hesitated to answer, still struggling to keep up with the new way she was being treated. "What do I want?"

"Yeah, to eat. What do you want?"

Though it would be unfair to say they hadn't been adequately feeding her, she hadn't exactly been given a choice as to what she could eat. Yet as this very thought occurred to her she thought back to that very morning, the way Laura stood in the threshold of her cell and impatiently offered her something else to eat, an alternative to the oatmeal that she thus far hadn't touched.

It seemed her indecisiveness rubbed Laura up the wrong way, and she now made a point of rolling her eyes and huffing impatiently. Rescinding her offer of something to eat she changed the subject and ushered Carrie to follow her, showing her around and narrating as she went. As they walked around the workers stopped to look at them, making no secret that they were gawking and whispering amongst themselves. It made Carrie wonder what they knew about her, if they thought she was a new resident here, or one of Negan's concubines.

"We use a points system. You're one of us, anything you want goes on Negan's tab, and he reimburses the workers later. They eat shit, you eat good. Write what you took or what they did, how much it was worth," she instructed, picking up a stall holder's folder and showing her the pages. "Sign your name. That's it. Questions?"

She looked at the book, her eyes taking in as much information as she possibly could during her brief glimpse. "Do I have to barter, or is it a set price?"

"Either is fine, but if it's not a set price _you_ don't barter. Just put an X in the price column and I'll negotiate with them later."

"You?"

"Yes," she answered, taking the notebook and returning it to the stall owner. "I negotiate all barters for Negan's people. I know what's reasonable, and I can tell when they're trying to overcharge." As they continued their tour Laura's her features softened as she continued in a low voice. "It means I can make sure everyone has enough points to get by."

"That's…kind of you."

Laura stopped in her tracks, and she narrowed her eyes as she grasped the sleeve of Carrie's sweater. "Don't say shit like that," she warned. "It's not about kindness. It's about keeping them fed enough that they don't try to revolt."

"So, if I hear the word _union_ , I should warn you?"

Gaping at her, Laura was clearly trying to decide whether or not she was serious. Thankfully though her features softened again, and to Carrie's disbelief an actual smile came across her face. "That's a dirty word," she joked, sounding genuinely amused. "There's no talk of unions around here."

"Got it."

Shaking her head in exasperation they set off again, Laura showing her past every stall, allowing her to look at the wide assortment of goods and services on offer. Clothing, shoes, personal items, knick knacks, bedding, hair cuts, massages, even a coffee cart. They slowed to a stop at a stall with a wide assortment of junk for sale, but judging by the many entries in the worker's ledger she did quite a few sales. But when she looked around Carrie felt her heart sink into the pit of her stomach, a numb sense of grief and despair starting to well up inside of her. The woman manning the stall was wearing her necklace, the pressed daisy encased in resin that Rick had made for her birthday last year. It hung around the woman's neck, taunting her.

"Something caught your eye?" Laura asked, she too having noticed the necklace.

"Maybe," she answered, her voice just above a whisper.

"For people like you and me, anything is for sale." There was a pause now, Laura scrutinising her in interest. "You want somethin', you take it."

For a moment she didn't say anything, feeling foolish that in the present situation she was concerned about a piece of damn jewellery. It was stupid. Only a few days ago Glenn and Abraham had been beaten to death in front of her, Lana had died in agony, and she, her baby and Daryl were now captive…and yet she wanted her necklace back.

"Take that necklace off," Laura instructed, addressing the woman seated at the table.

She looked up at her in outrage, and she swiftly reached up and tucked the pendant into the collar of her shirt, trying to hide it. "It's not for sale."

"Sixteen," Laura said, her tone one of warning. "Take it off. It's been purchased."

There was a long pause as the woman stared at Laura, and when she reluctantly reached up and opened the clasp behind her neck she turned her attention to Carrie, looking at her in disdain. The venom in her eyes was evident, as was the way the tossed the pendant towards her. Nevertheless Carrie's heart leapt when she caught it, feeling its weight in the palm of her hand. She scrutinised it carefully, but there was no mistaking the delicate petals of the daisy, the touch of her fingers recognising the ridge of resin on the back, the only flaw.

"That'll be twenty points for that."

Laura scoffed at the woman, and reaching past Carrie she picked up the folder and scribbled something onto a blank line. "We'll discuss it when I do the rec," she said, dropping the folder and pen back onto the desk. "You see your wedding rings around, buy them back too. I think they ended up here."

"Okay," she said quietly, following her as she continued showing her around.

Without a pocket to slip it into she held the necklace in her palm, not wanting to fuss and fumble with the clasp right now. With the tour seemingly coming to a close they made their way back towards the corridor from which they had entered, but at the last minute Laura diverted them back to a few stalls they had passed earlier. In the far corner of the market were some food stands, fresh loaves of bread sitting on the tables still warm, jars of preserved and canned goods all lined up for purchase.

"Twenty Two, what's that?" Laura asked, gesturing to an enormous pot that sat on a camping stove.

"Just your run of the mill stew," the man answered, practically standing to attention. As he spoke Carrie observed the way he looked at Laura, eager to meet her favour. "An assortment of meat, vegetables, herbs, a little dash of red wine an-"

"What meat you got in there? Decent cuts, or is it all beaks and hooves?"

"Decent cuts this week. Nothing unpalatable."

Using a cloth to protect her hand, Laura lifted up the lid and looked inside, scrutinising the contents of the pot. Satisfied she replaced the lid and tossed aside the cloth in favour of the man's folder. "Where's your pen, Twenty Two?"

While he hastened to find one for her, Carrie dithered on the spot, wishing she hadn't annoyed Laura with her indecision. Her situation was changing, and no longer was she going to be delivered three meals a day. Now that she was faced with food right in front of her she could feel hunger gnawing at her, and she wished it was easier for her to set aside her pride and ask for a meal.

"Wait twenty minutes then send it up to Negan's room," Laura instructed, tossing the pen and folder back onto the table. "And some bread too. Don't skimp on anything."

"O-of course not," he assured her, looking disappointed when she walked away. "He'll get a good serving, I assure you."

Not listening to him, Laura gestured for Carrie to follow her, and now her no-nonsense expression that she was more used to had returned. They left the marketplace in silence, Laura stopping only to answer a radio query as to her and Carrie's whereabouts. Making their way through the Sanctuary she quickly became disoriented again, confused by the many twists and turns, never slowing down enough for her to get a proper look at the faded evacuation instructions and floor plans. They passed a few other people on their journey, but none of them showed any interest in the fact that Carrie was walking around unrestrained, though everyone did gawk at her. A phenomenon she had grown used to, their eyes were automatically drawn to her round belly, some of them looking surprised to see that she was pregnant.

"You remember where we are?" Laura asked, leading her into the laundry room they had visited that morning.

Still trying to orient herself, Carrie looked down the other hallway, trying to remember if that was the way down to her cell, to Daryl. "Vaguely."

"You'll get used to it eventually."

Not liking that, for it implied a long term stay, Carrie watched dejectedly as Laura opened one of the nearby cabinets and rifled through it. From inside she withdrew a white linen bag with a draw string at the top, and she laid it out onto one of the empty tables before taking a thick black marker from her pocket. Using her teeth to remove the cap she began writing on it, and Carrie took the opportunity to look around the laundry room for a second time. There were workers in here too, and she recognised one of them as the woman from that morning who had returned her bra. She had adjusted the straps for her, offered to find her more…the small act of kindness had been a stark contrast to what she had been experiencing at the time.

"Is this where the children are kept?" she asked, remembering that she had heard the sound of one in here this morning.

"In the fucking laundry?" Laura asked, glancing up at her as if she was stupid.

"I…I thought I heard a child in here this morning."

Replacing the cap on the marker, Laura seemed to concede this point. "Sometimes they help hang the clothes out to dry. They've got chores just like any other kid. Here, this is yours."

She tossed the large white bag at her, and on the front in large capital letters was the word _ALEXANDRIA_.

"You put your dirty laundry in here and give it to one of the workers. They'll wash it and bring it back."

Nodding to indicate she had understood, Carrie stared at the handwritten letters and then dared to ask a question. "Why do you keep calling me Alexandria?"

"I told you, no one cares what your actual name is," she said shortly, sounding impatient again. "We only care who you're married to and where you're from. That's why you're here, and how you're identified. Got it?"

Carrie nodded slowly, unsure of what to say in response to that.

"These things," Laura lectured, gesturing to the bag and the daisy pendant still in her hand. "Don't mistake this as kindness. You're a prisoner here. We're looking after you because it keeps your people from doing something stupid, but you're still a prisoner. Nothing more. You got it?"

"Yes."

"None of the workers will know who you are if you sign your name as Carrie," she continued, moving past her and leading her back into the corridor. "Sign as Alexandria, where you're from."

This time she didn't say anything in response, still not knowing what to say. As they walked she looked down at the laundry bag with her name on it, still wrapping her head around what was happening. It was unfathomable, and a part of her wished Laura would just take her back to the cell. There at least she had come to learn what to expect. Three meals a day, three escorted trips outside for fresh air, nothing more. Now it seemed as though she was being extended some liberties, small amounts of freedom that were supposed to make her time here bearable.

Having given up on trying to keep track of their location Carrie resigned herself to simply following Laura wherever she took her, and together they made their way through the maze of corridors, some wide and some narrow, some adorned by the large windows she had observed from outside that morning. They rose three levels, and she was panting by the time they got to the top, grateful when Laura slowed down and allowed her to catch her breath. Inside her she could feel the baby stretching, it's head still near her ribs the wrong way up. Any minute now it would probably go still, lulled to sleep by her long walk through the Sanctuary.

The first change she noticed was that the plain linoleum floors changed, replaced by a plush dark carpet that felt wonderfully soft beneath her sneakers. They had entered a long corridor at the end of which were ceiling to floor windows, allowing her to orient herself and realise that were at the front of the Sanctuary. Someone was standing on guard at the very end, immediately standing to attention now that someone was making their way towards him, but he made no move to speak or stop them.

Unlike the grimy green walls in the rest of the Sanctuary the corridor had been painted a warm grey, but the only other thing of note was the two sets of double doors, one halfway along on her left, the other further down on the right. Laura led her to the closet door on the left and waited for her to catch up, and before she felt ready she was opening it. Instinctually Carrie held her breath, her body tense and ready to flee, but from what she did not know.

Impatiently Laura ushered her inside, and so with trepidation she did as she was told. At first she didn't quite know where to look, and it wasn't until she ascertained that they were alone in here that she was able to breathe out. The room seemed completely out of place within the Sanctuary, almost like she had stepped into another place all together. It was a grand studio apartment, the space occupied by a four poster bed to her left and a comfortable living area by the windows. Anxious, she tried not to wring her hands together, but there was no denying how on edge she felt simply being in here, for she knew exactly who this room belonged to.

"This is Negan's room?"

"Yes."

The confirmation doing nothing to put her at ease, she took a slow breath and scrutinised the space, wondering if this was the only opportunity she would get to do so. The room itself was tastefully decorated, the bed made and pillows carefully arranged, and though it was filled almost to the brim with furniture and decor it didn't feel cluttered or untidy. The dark walls and drapes made it feel dramatic and bold, but the hard lines of the straight edged leather couch and furniture made it feel overly masculine, intimidatingly so. It was only the lush carpet and a few green plants that offered any softness to the room, which overall served to reflect the man who occupied it. Harsh, dramatic…unkind.

"Sit," Laura instructed, gesturing to the living area. "He won't be far away."

Blinking, Carrie looked around at her in dismay. "Where are you going?" she asked, distressed to see her stepping out of the room. "Laura!"

"It's fine, okay? Just wait."

Carrie lunged towards the door, seizing the handle just as Laura pulled it shut, but she was too slow. There was an audible click as she locked it, and in a flurry Carrie rattled the handle, trying not to panic as she looked for a button to push, but there was only an empty key hole.

"Laura, no!" she said loudly, banging her hands against the door. "Don't leave me in here. Take me back to the cell." She paused as she waited for her to reply, but when there came only silence she rattled the handle again, desperate. "Laura, please!"

Giving a low cry of frustration she kicked at the door, shouting again for her to come back, but all to quickly she lost her steam. With a heavy sigh she rested her forehead against the beautiful wooden door, closing her eyes as she caught her breath. She was stuck in here now, with no choice but to wait in dread for Negan's arrival. For a few moments she allowed herself to stand there in misery, trying to prepare herself for whatever was coming next, and then she wrenched herself away from the door.

Pacing now she raised her hands to her head, lifting her shoulders and forcing herself to take some deep breaths. To her disbelief she found herself paying attention to what Laura had told her earlier that day, to keep her shit together and not cry again.

 _"If you blubber like this in front of Negan, he will lose any patience he may have for you. From now on, you're Johnson and Johnson. No more fucking tears."_

Though she hated to admit it, in this case Laura was right. Carrie had to keep it together, to not remind Negan how much power he had over her, how afraid she was. Instead she was going to have to find a middle ground, something between defiantly standing up for herself and a terrified wall flower. Overwhelmed by it all, Carrie did as Laura had told her to do. Sinking down into one of the fabric armchairs she put her head into her hands and closed her eyes, allowing her mind to sink into a fantasy where everything was alright. She was at home with her family, her baby safely born and sleeping in her arms.

Freeing up her hands she unclenched her palm and then put her necklace back on. Its heavy weight against her chest was comforting, for she was used to having it there. For a few moments she tried to calm herself as she looked at the pendant, remembering how Rick had made six attempts to get it perfect. She clenched it tightly, running her thumb over the ridge of resin on the back, and then she promptly tucked it inside her sweater where no one could see it. There was no use in drawing attention to it, not when there was the possibility someone might take it from her a second time.

Perhaps twenty minutes passed, and Carrie was just about to get to her feet and take a proper look around when the doors opened without warning. She raised her head and looked up, breath catching in her throat when she saw that it was Negan standing in the threshold. He seemed almost comical in nature, standing there with both hands on the open doors as he peered inside at her. For one strange moment she was struck by how deceptively charming he was, realising that in another time and place he might have been someone she liked, someone she would have stopped to take notice of.

"Carrie Grimes," he said in greeting, swinging Lucille by his side as he entered the room. He looked pleased to see her, an unnerving smile coming over his features. "Boy am I glad you're here to see this. Bring 'er in, fellas."

Feeling sick to her stomach by his mere presence, she was relieved when two more people followed him into the room, the lowest ranking workers who wore the same type of beige clothing Daryl did. Between them they were carrying a large mattress, and their faces were red and shiny with sweat as they brought it in and slowly carried it over to the other side of the room. They set it down against the wall and then paused for breath, glancing at Negan while another two workers came in, women this time. Recognising them both from the laundry room Carrie watched as they came forward and began removing the pillows and linen from Negan's bed, working quickly and with minimal fuss.

As they worked Negan leant against the far wall with his arms folded across his chest, patiently waiting for them to finish up. Beside him was Lucille, standing up against the wall and never far from his side. It had been strange seeing it in Rick's hands that day, almost as strange as it was seeing Negan without it.

To her horror he looked at her again, still smiling at her in a way that gave her the creeps. For a long moment he simply observed her, his expression giving away nothing of great consequence, and then he stepped away from his place at the wall and came towards her. She started holding her breath again, doing everything she could to not show him how afraid she was, but she couldn't tell if he was buying it. To her relief he bypassed her all together, walking behind the black leather couch and approaching an old fashioned bar cart situated in the corner. There he bustled around for a few moments, Carrie watching his every move. He took a crystal glass and turned it the right way up, and from an equally beautiful crystal pitcher he filled the glass almost to the brim with water.

Thirsty, he raised the glass to his lips and began to drink. He finished the entire glass and then gave an _ahhh_ of satisfaction, setting the glass down and selecting another. From the same pitcher he filled a clean glass and then turned around to her, looking her in the eye as he came over. Treating her like a guest he set the glass of water down onto the coffee table, going as far as to use a coaster he had taken from the bar cart. She merely looked at him in trepidation, feeling paralysed in a perpetual state of fight or flight.

"Laura really ought to have been more hospitable," he commented, insincerely apologetic. "She should know by now how we treat guests."

Not waiting for a response he let her be, simply walking past her and returning to the other side of the room to watch on. Releasing the breath she had been holding Carrie too watched as the workers removed the current mattress and took it out into the hallway, the two laundry women waiting patiently until they came back and put the new mattress into place. Seamlessly they came forward and put fresh sheets on the mattress, working quickly to put a new cover on the comforter and new cases on the pillows. Meanwhile Negan had come over and pressed his hands down onto the mattress, testing it out and looking rather pleased with what he had found.

"Thank you for your services, now get the fuck out," he instructed, waving the two women out.

Hastening to make themselves scarce they bundled up the old linen, and when they headed for the door they glanced at Carrie, their eyes sympathetic. But Negan paid them no mind, simply closing the doors with a nudge of the hand before giving a great sigh, glad they were gone. He paced back and forth in front of his bed, looking down at it before turning around to face Carrie.

"Did you recognise it?" he enquired, taking a seat on the edge. Still looking rather pleased he bounced up and down a little, but he held eye contact the entire time. "You should…it's yours."

He paused for dramatic effect, but Carrie gave no outward reaction to the news. She had anticipated this the moment she had seen the mattress, recalling Laura's instructions to the other Saviours that they were to put Rick and Carrie's mattress into a specific truck. Negan had wanted it, so petty that he not only stole beds from Alexandria, but took great delight in keeping Rick's for himself.

"It just tickles my balls knowing this is where he fucks you." He stood up and then playfully flopped onto the bed, the mattress bouncing a little. Now he stretched out, reaching his arms above his head and making his shirt ride up. "Which of my wives will I bring in here first? Hell, which two wives will I bring in here first?"

Carrie said nothing, simply turning away and looking at the coffee table. Negan was right in saying it was the place where Rick had fucked her, but it was also the place where she had thrown up from morning sickness, and where Judith had diarrhoea once…perhaps it was best not to mention these things. Better to let Negan have his moment to gloat, to keep him happy.

"I'd like to congratulate you on a job well done," he began now, still laying down on his new bed. "I know today had to be stressful, but it was more successful than you realise. Rick, he fucking gets it. He understands how shit needs to work, and he's going to get shit done for me. And you…you served your purpose well. You kept it together and reminded him exactly why he has to behave."

She remained silent, making no comment. What was she supposed to say to that?

"I think this arrangement is going to work out just fine," he stated, getting up from the bed and returning to the living room. "Laura showed you around the place, right? You know where everything is, how it all works?"

"When is she coming back?"

His footsteps loud despite the carpet, Negan took a seat on the leather couch opposite her. Settling in he crossed one ankle over his leg and stretched his arms out, peering at her. "I asked you a question."

Getting the hint, she nodded. "Yes. She showed me around."

"Good. I've taken the liberty of making you an appointment with Dr Carson, just like I promised Rick I would. He's expecting you at three o'clock, and if you miss your appointment, well…I will be displeased," he warned. "You need to sort that shit out, because the last thing I need on my plate is a dead baby. As I'm sure you could imagine, that won't go down too fucking well with folks back home."

"No, it wouldn't," she agreed, getting the impression he was expecting her to say something.

"Do you know what you're having?"

She didn't immediately answer, still unnerved by the way the Saviours kept asking her about this. "No, I don't know," she answered, bracing herself as she continued. "Someone told me you wanted a boy?"

"After three girls born here, we're all hoping for a boy some day."

"Is that why I'm here?"

Tilting his head, Negan lowered his arms from the back of the couch and leant forward. He held her gaze now, dropping his foot to the floor as he scrutinised her. "Don't listen to gossip, listen to me," he instructed, sounding annoyed with her. "I already told you this morning, you're here to serve the purpose of keeping Rick in line. You can't serve that purpose if you're a God damn fucking mess because some prick took your baby away."

"Okay," she whispered, breaking eye contact and looking down at her lap. She felt a huge surge of emotion welling up inside of her, guttural relief, and it was all she could do to keep it at bay and hide it.

"No one is taking your baby," he said forcefully, reiterating it by tapping his finger on the glass coffee table until she looked up. "Do you understand?"

Looking at him again she hastily nodded, her jaw clenched as she hid her relief. As his words sank in she wanted to break into a smile, to cry out in happiness, but she did nothing of the sort. She actually believed what he was saying to her, and yet her relief would have to be private. Nothing was going to happen to the baby…no one would be wrenching it from her arms, no one would be holding her down during childbirth and taking it away before she could even glimpse it.

"Perhaps it's time to give you the lay of the land," he said conversationally. "Tell you how things are gonna be for the next few months."

"When's Laura coming back?"

For a second time he ignored this question. "Now I need you to listen," he implored her. "Not just hear the words, but listen, because this shit is important. Are you listening?"

"Yes," she replied, making eye contact when she heard him tapping on the coffee table again.

"I want you to feel safe here. I want you to understand the way I expect you to be treated. My men may look like fucking animals, they'll act like pricks when I'm not around. They like to tell dead baby jokes, threaten to feed the workers to the dead, that shit's harmless. But to you? To you, they'd better be the epitome of gentlemen. I'd bet your husband's a gentleman to you. Does Rick treat you right?"

"Yes," she answered, looking away. Though she was listening she allowed her eyes to roam about the room, entranced by the beautiful chandelier that hung from the ceiling. A chandelier of all things.

"Does he open doors for you? Give you his coat when you're cold?"

"Yes."

He leant forward now. "Does he make you cum when he fucks you? Does he get you off every time, or is he a two pump chump?"

Taken aback by the crude question she looked at him incredulously. "That's none of your fucking business."

A pause came to pass, and Negan gave a short laugh under his breath. He looked impressed with her now, and he smiled as he leant back into the couch and relaxed. "If you denied it, I would have known you were lying," he said smugly. "So he is a gentleman then, as he should be for a lady like you."

"What's this got to do with your men?"

"I expect them to act like fucking gentleman too," he reminded her, his tone becoming serious again. "If one of my men steps outta line, even just a toe, you tell me. Tell Laura, tell anyone. There is no excuse for my men treating you like anything other than a fucking lady."

"Even though I'm nothing more than your prisoner?" she challenged.

He nodded, looking impressed again. "Couldn't have said it better myself. You're my guest, but you're also my prisoner. Don't get too big for your boots."

"And you?" she enquired tentatively. He was like the elephant in the room…did he have her here for any nefarious reasons? "You only mentioned how your men were to treat me. You never said anything about you."

Now he gave a great sigh, peering at her with great interest. It was intimidating, the feeling of his eyes looking her up and down making her uncomfortable, increasingly fearful that he had something terrible in store for her, and she could think of a few things a man like him might want from her.

"I'm not going to have sex with you," she stated forcefully, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could think twice. "I'm not being one of your whores."

"Woah, hold up there," he stopped her, sounding offended as he raised one of his hands. "There's nothing wrong with being a lady in the street and a whore in the sheets. Nothing wrong with that at all."

"I'm not having sex with you."

"And that's a damn shame," he stated, his upper lip curling in amusement. "Because if you were up for it we'd have a good time with you riding my dick. Which is what makes it so disappointing that it's never going to happen."

"I'm glad you understand," she stated, squaring her shoulders and sitting up a little straighter.

He held her gaze a few moments longer, and so quickly she felt a jolt of surprise he rose to his feet. He gave a great sigh as he stretched his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders as he wandered back towards the other side of the room. There he picked up Lucille from where he had left her, getting a good grip before aimlessly swinging it back and forth. Watching him from the corner of her eye Carrie couldn't help but think he had picked it up simply because he needed something to do with his hands, because it felt so odd not having its weight there. Judith was much the same, for she had taken to carrying around her stuffed duck not because she needed comfort, but because she simply wanted something to hold.

"Carrie, you can hold me to a higher standard than my men," he told her, turning to face her as he continued swaying the bat back and forth, keeping his hands occupied. "Not because I'm more or less of an asshole than the others, but because to me especially…you are completely un-fucking-touchable."

She flinched when he swung the bat across his body and in front of her, recoiling into the corner of the chair. Noticing this, he took a step back from her as he aimlessly swung the bat again. He wasn't trying to intimidate or threaten her, but it had sure as hell worked. Her eyes were transfixed on the bat now, recalling with disgust the way blood and viscera dripped from it that horrible night, the way he thrust it into Lana's face and demanded she look at it. The man that night and the one in front of her…they were the same person, and yet he behaved so differently. Right now he was holding a conversation with her, trying to put her fears at ease, but his cruel indifference was not so far beneath the surface.

"I am never going to hit on you," he assured her, bringing Lucille to a stop and resting the tip on the toe of his boot. "Maybe I'll flirt with you a little, think about what's under your clothes while I'm stickin' it to someone else, but I'll never hit on you. I'll never invite you into my bed, or accept an invitation into yours." As he spoke he came closer, and now his demeanour was perfectly friendly, almost charming again. "Not because I find you unattractive, or unfuckable. Because you are gorgeous, and perfectly fuckable," he concluded, gesturing to her round belly. "As evidenced."

He was close to her now, barely a foot away and towering over her. Nevertheless she held her ground, refusing to let her body tremble or her breathing hitch, but there was nothing she could do about the goosebumps erupting across her skin.

"I'm playing the long game, prepping for extra innings. You see Carrie, part of my job is keeping the peace. Maintaining harmony. Your kid can offer himself up all he likes and I'd love to have him here, but I'll never take him. I was never gonna bash his head in or let Rick hack his arm off, and I'm not gonna take that baby away from you."

To her disgust he moved in front of her now, crouching down with the bat poised in front of him, palm resting on its end. This time she couldn't help but physically recoil, shuddering at his proximity to her. She thought back to that fateful night, the way he pulled her jacket back when she had tried to close it. His hand had touched hers, and in the terror of the moment it had felt like his touch had burned her, that she would be physically scarred by it. Now didn't feel much different. He was too close, looking her in the eye and compelling her to hold his gaze…she couldn't look away.

"A man's family is his reason for getting up in the morning, the reason he breathes…the reason Rick's going to bring me lots of goodies. The moment I bed you, turn you against him, marry you and make you one of my wives…he's got one less reason to behave. Two less reasons if I take his baby and raise it as my own. So you are completely off limits to me," he concluded, standing up and moving away from her. Instead he returned to his seat on the couch across from her, the palm of his hand still resting on the top of Lucille. "While ever I've got you, Rick is going to be on his A plus, Boy Scout best behaviour! He'll be the best fucking teacher's pet I've ever seen!"

"So, what…" she breathed, trying to put her thoughts in order. "I'm never getting out of here?"

"You will one day," he assured her. "Just not until Rick's got things running like a Swiss made watch. For now, you just look forward to having that baby, and the remote possibility that he'll be there to hold your hand when you spit it out. Would that make you happy?"

"What about Daryl?"

Negan laughed. "What do you want him there for? He knocked up Lana, not you."

Her stomach clenched at the reminder, making her take a deep breath before continuing. "When can Daryl leave?"

When he didn't answer Carrie looked up, repeating her question. But Negan just looked at her in exasperation, questioning why he had to explain this to her. "Daryl's not going anywhere. He's too useful to waste giving back to _Rick_."

"What will his freedom cost us?" she asked, ready to discuss it, to negotiate.

Negan shook his head, his apologetic shrug completely insincere. "Daryl's mine now. I like him. Once he's given up all hope, he's going to work for me. And when that happens, he'll be one of my best."

Considering the merits of arguing, she sat forward in her chair and reached for the glass of water waiting for her. It was cool and refreshing, compelling her to take another generous sip before setting it back onto the coaster. There was silence now, Negan sitting back and watching her, waiting for her next comment.

"What makes you think he'd work for you?" she asked candidly, curious as to his answer. "What makes you think he wouldn't sabotage you?"

Negan nodded, approving of her questions. "You'd be surprised. He won't be the first Lieutenant I've taken from another group against their will. He'll do it not because he wants to work for me, but because he's loyal to Rick. Cooperation will keep things running smoothly, and will prevent Lucille from having to knock another o' you poor folks on the head again. I don't like killing you people," he added. "It's unproductive. You can't work for me if you're dead, and that's where Daryl will come in."

Carrie shook her head in disagreement. "Even if Daryl did cooperate for our sake, Alexandria would not accept it. Not in the long term anyway. Eventually, you'll have to let him go."

Not looking at all concerned, Negan slumped back into the couch as he shrugged his shoulders, but his response to her was cut short by a knock at the door. Annoyance crossed his face, his mouth twisting into a scowl as he looked towards the door. He didn't like that they were being interrupted, that someone was intruding. Was he enjoying this?

"Come in."

Very slowly the door handle was lowered, the door creeping open a little, and then with a short kick it swung all the way open. A large man with a boyish face entered, his hands wobbling as he carried a heavy tray in front of himself. The tray was laden with a crystal pitcher of water and a drinking glass, a crystal vase with two flowers, and a silver serving cover used to keep food warm.

"Fat Joseph," Negan greeted him jovially, now looking delighted by the interruption. "Did you carry that all the way up here for me?"

The man gave a polite smile before shaking his head. "No, Sir. The order's for Alice…" he trailed off and cleared his throat, squinting as he took a closer look at something on the tray. "Alexandria. Twenty Two told me to bring it to her new quarters. That's here, right?"

Carrie gaped at him in disbelief, certain she had misheard. This must be the tray of food Laura had sent up to Negan's room, but it was being delivered to her by name? To her new quarters?

"That's right," Negan answered, clicking his fingers and pointing to the coffee table. "Put it down here for her. What is it?"

As Fat Joey did as he was told, reciting the meal and its ingredients, Carrie was rising to her feet. She hadn't consciously decided to do so, and without thinking about it she started backing away from them both, trying to maintain control of herself. As if nothing was wrong Negan lifted the silver lid and peered at the bowl of stew and slice of bread, giving it a nod of approval after he leant in to smell its aroma.

"That smells abso-fuckin-lutely delicious," he declared, setting the lid back down. "Fat Joey, why don't you run back down to Twenty Two and have him make up a bowl for me. Don't forget the flowers."

"Yes, Sir," he nodded eagerly, turning on his heel and hastening for the door. As he departed he looked to Carrie, giving her a shy smile that she didn't notice.

With him gone Negan got back to his feet, giving Carrie an amused look as he returned to the bar cart and poured himself another glass of water. As he drank he held her gaze, enjoying the look on her face, the way the silence hung between them. With a great sigh he unzipped his leather jacket and shrugged it off his shoulders, revealing the plain white tee shirt he wore underneath. It was unnerving, for it wasn't unusual for Rick to wear a plan tee shirt not dissimilar.

"I do hope you're not thinking about throwing yourself out the window," Negan commented, throwing his leather jacket across the back of the couch. "Because that would really put a wrinkle on things with me and Rick."

Filling his glass again he returned to his place on the couch, sitting back and crossing his ankle over his knee, watching her all the while. "Welcome to your new home."

* * *

A/N This was the first Negan scene without a TV scene to base him off - I really hope you enjoyed my portrayal of him and the way he enjoys toying with Carrie while at the same time trying to put her at ease. More of Negan and Carrie to come in the next chapter!

Please do leave a review to let me know what you think - with the exception of my faithful 'every chapter' reviewers it's starting to feel like readers/reviewers are dropping off. If it's the never ending bleakness of Negan please don't let that deter you from reading and reviewing - times are changing, and it won't be all bleak forever. Carrie is gonna get her bitch on and get shit done!


	49. Chapter 49

"I do hope you're not thinking about throwing yourself out the window," Negan commented, throwing his leather jacket across the back of the couch. "Because that would really put a wrinkle on things with me and Rick."

Filling his glass again he returned to his place on the couch, sitting back and crossing his ankle over his knee, watching her all the while. "Welcome to your new home."

"I'm not staying here," she said firmly, looking him in the eye. "I can't."

"You can," he replied, holding his ground. "And you will."

"No. You said you weren't going to mistreat me, that you weren't going to try and have sex with me."

"I'm not," he insisted.

"Then why do you want me _here_?" she demanded, starting back towards him. She was infuriated, refusing to accept it, "I won't stay here."

"You will, because if you spend one night downstairs you'll come running back up here with your tail between those pretty legs o' yours. I'm keeping you up here for your own good."

"I fail to see how any of this is for my own good."

Negan was unperturbed by her tone of voice, and judging by the expression on his face he was rather enjoying the back and forth. "Normally you'd be in your own room downstairs, your own perfect piece of paradise, but not you Carrie. Not you."

"I'll go back to the cell," she said vehemently, meaning it. "Lock me back in there, I don't care."

Negan chuckled, shaking his head. "Another few days of baby sitting you, it'd be Laura throwing herself through that window. She's a strong woman but you fucking drive her to drink, and she's busy enough already. No, you're being given some freedom, and you're taking it."

"Then leave the cell unlocked."

Still he was unswayed. "Sit down."

"No."

"Sit down, shut up and listen," he said forcefully, leaning forward. Still in his hand was Lucille, and he made a point of lifting her up and setting her across his lap. "Do not make me ask again."

For a moment she stared at him in disbelief, unable to comprehend that they were having this conversation. Moment by moment control was slipping from her fingers, which in itself was ridiculous because she hadn't been in control of anything for days now. Hedging her bets by erring on the side of caution she did what he told her to do, tentatively resuming her seat.

"You're not having a room downstairs, because you'd have to live among my men, and to me that's not appropriate. I'm looking out fo-"

"It's more appropriate than me being up h-"

"Don't interrupt," he cut her off, doing exactly that himself. "I'm looking out for your best interests. I want you to be safe here."

She looked at him in apprehension, not liking where this was going. "Safe from what?"

"I think you know what I'm getting at. I expect my men to behave like gentlemen, but that doesn't mean they _are_ gentlemen. All it takes is one prick who promises you the world for just one little blow job," he lectured, leaning forward and holding her attention. "Then next thing you're bent over with a dick in your ass, and you think it was all your idea."

At this comment she flinched, feeling her heart falter for one horrible moment. _You think it was all your idea_ …those words hit her just a little too close to home. Lowering her gaze she took a few deep breaths, hating the way Negan looked at her as if he knew all her secrets, that he knew being raped was at the forefront of her mind. She could feel him watching her still, satisfied that he had struck a nerve.

"How is that any different to you and your wives?" she questioned, hitting back at him the only way she could. "You give them things if they'll have sex with you."

Taken aback that she had brought this up, Negan narrowed his eyes at her. "They can say no or leave at any time," he stated, sounding offended by her insinuation. "They don't, because they like it here."

"You've forced them into prostitution."

"I am the one who pulled them out of prostitution," he argued passionately. "Before I took this place it was a fucking free for all, and not metaphorically. Women like Laura had to swallow dick twice a day just to eat, but now? Now, no one has to do shit like that."

"Except your wives."

"Who all made a choice," he said emphatically, still sounding offended. "Ask Arat or Laura about it. I made them the same offer I made all of my wives, and they turned it down. They made a choice from the same options every other woman who married me was given."

Carrie shook her head, unwilling to accept that. "No, th-"

"You're gonna want to be careful," he warned. He sounded a little impatient now, his fingers strumming against the handle of Lucille. "It's an awfully long fall from your high horse. Particularly when I've been so accommodating."

At this she let out an incredulous laugh, unable to believe he had just said that. "Accommodating?" she questioned, her voice wavering. "Four of my people are dead because of you!"

"An unfortunate way to start things, but the body count from your side is greater than from me."

"Because you attacked us first," she countered, almost rising to her feet in outrage. "Did you think we weren't going to defend ourselves when you tried killing us?"

"You also harboured my fugitives, let's not forget that."

"Yes, how dare Lana run away from you."

At this Negan seemed to near the end of his patience, and he shook his head at her as he slowly stood to his feet. "You don't know what the fuck they were running away from."

"From you!" she exclaimed, she too getting to her feet.

"That little cunt loved being my wife," he growled angrily. "She got to live her days painting her nails and wearing nice clothes, and her people were getting by with points to spare. Vetor couldn't keep his dick out of her, and he was too piss weak to face the well established consequences of doing so. That's why they ran!"

"So take it up with him," she argued. "Don't take it out on my group!"

With his hands clenched Negan stepped towards her with an angry snarl, but when his knee bumped against the coffee table he seemed to snap out of it, suddenly realising what he was doing. On the other side of the table Carrie had backed up against the chair, holding her breath and regretting every word she had said, that she had done anything other than be completely agreeable. Why had she argued with the man who murdered Abraham and Glenn? Why hadn't she just kept her mouth shut?

To her great relief there came a knock at the door, but Negan didn't break eye contact with her.

"Fat Joey, that better be you!"

Having used his elbow on the handle and his foot to nudge it, the door opened to admit Fat Joey, who in his hands carried another large tray with a silver serving cover and flowers. His face was red and shiny, and he seemed to be catching his breath as he came inside.

"Here's your lunch, Sir," he said, trying not to pant. "And her bag, too."

"Excellent." Setting Lucille down against the leg of the couch Negan resumed his seat, excitedly rubbing his hands together as Joey brought the tray over and set it onto the coffee table alongside Carrie's. "You know the drill."

"Yes, Sir."

Still standing, Carrie watched on as Joey removed her pack and set it down, and then he took one of two spoons on the tray and lifted the serving cover. After giving the stew a quick stir he lifted a spoonful to his mouth, blowing on it a little before tasting it. As he did so he glanced over at Carrie, looking a little shy of her.

"What's the verdict?" Negan asked impatiently.

Replacing the serving cover, Fat Joey straightened up and then moved away, pocketing the used spoon. "It's very nice, Sir."

"Good. Now get the fuck out."

While Fat Joey hastened to make himself scarce, Carrie mentally resigned herself to the situation at hand. The very thought of sitting and down and eating a meal with Negan repulsed her, but she knew that refusing to do so was not an option for her. Justified or not, now was not the time to wage a hunger strike, particularly when she was as hungry as she currently was now. So while he eagerly set aside the serving cover of his own tray, Carrie took a deep breath before resuming her seat. If this was what she needed to do in order to get by and survive here, for her and the baby's sake, she was going to do it.

"Excellent decision making," Negan praised, taking a slice of his bread and dipping it into the stew. When he took a bite his eyes closed in exaltation, a very satisfied groan rumbling in his chest. "I could see the wheels turning in your head. _Will I? Wont I?_ " he teased.

Seated now, she reached over and removed the cover from her own tray, taking her first look at the bowl of stew and fresh bread. The sight and aroma made her mouth water, and as if her hunger was taking over all efforts to defy Negan she picked up her bowl and spoon. "You afraid of them poisoning you?" she enquired, taking her first taste.

"I wish it was poison they were putting in my food," he commented, laughing a little. "Not long after I took over, some bright spark had the not so bright idea of taking a piss in my food."

She kept a straight face, though on the inside she commended the effort. "Let me guess. You smashed his head in?"

"You think that's all I do?"

She glanced up at him, recalling her ever so recent decision to watch what she said. "No."

"For the record, I didn't smash his head in. I took his finger with some old pliers," he said nonchalantly. "You got any names picked out?"

Internally she sighed, wishing she hadn't started up conversation. She looked down at her belly, the top of which she was using to steady her bowl of stew. "A couple."

"Such as?"

"I'd rather not say."

Apparently accepting this, he picked up a second slice of bread and dipped it into his bowl. "Just try'n to make conversation," he said lightly.

"You got any kids?" She braced herself for his reaction, daring to glance up when she heard only silence. "Just trying to make conversation."

He seemed to scoff at this, but answered nonetheless. "No. I don't need the damn stress."

"What about before?"

"None then either." His spoon was scraping the bottom of the bowl now, having eaten particularly quickly. "What about you and Rick? Got any other than the one baking and the one offering himself up to work for me?"

"No," she lied, not wanting to draw attention to Judith.

"So that pink room across the hall from you is Carl's?"

Her heart sank. "When did you see her room?"

"My men did," he answered, using his last slice of bread to wipe the bowl clean. "What's her name?"

"Judith."

"Judith," he muttered under his breath, unimpressed. "You get that name from Bingo?"

"Carl named her," she answered, resenting the comment. "After one of his teachers."

At this Negan looked up in interest. "One of his teachers, huh? Must have been a damn good teacher for you to let your kid be named after her."

Carrie nodded, recalling what she knew of Judith Mueller. "He had tough year once, and she made a difference."

Setting the empty bowl and spoon back onto the tray Negan relaxed back into the couch, watching her in great interest. "Teachers are like that…the good ones anyway."

She didn't say anymore on the subject, beginning to feel a uncomfortable again. Having finished his own meal his attention was no longer divided, instead focused solely on her. He was watching her, his eyes darting down from her face to her belly and then back up again, but when he saw that he was making her uncomfortable he looked away. She finished her meal and put it back on the tray, not a piece left untouched. She had been famished, and the stew was good.

"So, now what?" she asked in apprehension.

"Now, you make yourself at home," he answered, looking her in the eye and holding her gaze. A moment later he got to his feet, leaving Lucille behind as he crossed to the other side of the room. "Find your way around the joint, make some friends. Pass the time until that baby comes."

Carrie watched as he opened the top drawer of a bureau near his bed, wondering what he had in store for her there. But instead of anything nefarious he removed a clean white teeshirt, and she averted her eyes when he removed the one he wore. She watched from the corner of her eyes as he pulled on the clean shirt and disposed of the other in a white linen bag that hung in the corner, a bag not unlike the one Laura had so recently given her.

While she waited she looked at Lucille, the bat left leaning against the couch just waiting for her to reach out and grab it. But what would she do with it? Take on someone twice her size and three times as strong? She couldn't afford to take that kind of risk…if she was to ever make a move it had to be carefully calculated, and it couldn't depend on her physical strength. In the background Negan was bustling around now, pouring himself another glass of water from the bar cart and offering her one too, but she refused it. Already she needed to pee again. No point in exacerbating the discomfort.

Unsatisfied with anything she had learned so far, she slowly took a breath and then pressed forward. "Am I making myself at home, _here_?"

His head tipped back as he drank more water it took him a moment to answer, and she got the feeling he was drawing it out intentionally. Finally he looked at her over his shoulder, his expression one of bemused exasperation.

"I already told you. No matter how much I want you, I'm not having you in my bed."

"You haven't exactly been forthcoming with me," she countered, standing her ground. "Where do you expect me to make myself at home?"

"Sure as shit not on my couch!" he loudly declared, grinning at her as if he had been waiting hours for them to finally get to this point. Taking Lucille again he made his way over to her, picking up her pack and white laundry bag before swinging them over his shoulder. "Let's go see your new humble abode, shall we?"

Trying to hide her relief she hastily pushed herself to her feet, stifling a groan of exertion from the effort. Following him out they turned left down the short corridor and approached the only other set of grand double doors. Like earlier there was still a man standing guard outside, and though he gave a polite nod of acknowledgement to she and Negan he showed no other interest. When they reached the doors Negan looked to her in great interest, toying with her as he drew out the reveal for longer than necessary.

"Ladies," he said loudly, finally pushing open the double doors and stepping inside. "Come meet your new best friend."

Holding her breath Carrie apprehensively followed him in, and just as she had been when she entered his room she again found herself in awe. It was a living room not completely unlike Negan's, tastefully furnished with Victorian era plush couches and cushions adorned with intricate beads and embroidery. In one corner was a flat screen television while in the order was a well stocked bar, a platter of fresh fruit sitting on the coffee table. But it was the people there awaiting her that drew Carrie's attention first…or more specifically, the _women_.

She didn't need to ask to know that she had just entered the wives' quarters, that these women were not here by chance. Having clearly been waiting for her there were seven of them quickly getting to their feet and coming forward, each of them beautifully clothed in black dresses, their hair styled and their make up perfect. They were looking at Carrie in great interest, and just like anyone else their eyes dropped to her belly in interest, always so awe struck by pregnancy.

"Ladies, this is Carrie Grimes from Alexandria," Negan began, ushering her forward. "Carrie, these are my wives. Bridgette, Frankie, Tanya, Amber, Sherry, Jade and Mara."

Carrie simply nodded politely, holding her tongue and not asking how he remembered them all. As she stood there with them all looking at her she started to feel like she was en exhibit at the zoo, and self consciously she clasped her hands together in front of her belly, wishing they would stop looking at it.

"Have accomodations been made for our new friend?"

"This way," one of them said hospitably, giving her a welcoming smile before showing her to a corridor.

Counting herself lucky that he didn't expect her to share with him she followed the woman without complaint, Negan bringing up the rear with her pack still over his shoulder. "That one's Sherry," he whispered loudly, leaning down to her.

When she felt him behind her it took all she had to not flinch or recoil, but she took her next few steps rather quickly, trying to put some distance between them. Though the corridor itself was long and narrow it too was nicely decorated, but they didn't go far down before they stopped and Sherry politely gestured through an open door. With trepidation Carrie looked inside, surprised to find a small but welcoming room with a double bed, closet, side table and plush armchair. At the ceiling line was a long window, the only source of natural light to brighten the dark wallpaper that so strongly contrasted the crisp white bed linen. In all ways the room was tastefully decorated, nice pillows adorning the bed, a small selection of books sitting on the side table…but Carrie couldn't bring herself to step inside. This was not her room, this was her new prison.

Sitting on the bed was her yellow baby bag, the one she had brought with her the day they left Alexandria in the RV. Abraham had carried it for her that night in the woods, and at the sight of it now she remembered how ridiculous he looked with it over his shoulder. She stared at it long and hard, trying not to dwell on the possibility that she might need its contents while she was stuck here at the Sanctuary.

"Are you done swinging your lady dick around?" Negan asked conversationally. "Is this acceptable to you?"

"Can I go back to the cell?

"Nope."

She paused, telling herself not to be ungrateful for her good fortune. While she was living up here in a warm, clean and safe room, Daryl was living in squalor downstairs. "Thank you," she said, not because she meant it, but because she could tell he was waiting for it.

Apparently satisfied Negan ushered her to go in before following her, and the room felt instantly smaller by his presence there. While he dropped her bag onto the centre of the bed before opening the closet and looking inside, Carrie glanced up at Sherry who stood in the doorway. When she caught Carrie's gaze her demure smile faltered, and she gave her a short nod before stepping away. Nevertheless she wasn't gone, and on the wall of the corridor outside Carrie could see the silhouettes of her and the others. They must be standing at the mouth of the corridor, eagerly listening in to hear what was said inside.

"There are more blankets and pillows in the closet," Negan advised, turning to the bed and lifting up the blankets. "There's a heated blanket too," he continued, straightening the blankets. "Only use it if you have to."

"Okay," she murmured, subtly stepping away when he started coming back towards her.

He was looking at her long and hard now, twirling Lucille around in his hand, but not as a threat. "Will I need to put bars on the window, or can I trust you to not throw yourself out?"

Folding her arms across her chest she looked down at the carpeted floor for a few moments, wondering if that had ever happened here before. Had life here at the Sanctuary ever prompted someone to throw themselves out a fourth storey window?

"It won't be necessary," she answered, slowly raising her gaze and looking him in the eye.

"And you'll generally behave yourself? Laura won't need to keep riding your ass until the day she decides to fuckin' swallow her gun?"

"I will behave myself."

"Good," he said, looking genuinely pleased with her. "Then in exchange for your liberties in my home, I'd like your company in the afternoons."

Carrie blinked, trying to keep up. "Excuse me?"

"You heard," he teased, enjoying this. "Four o'clock, every day. You can join me for a drink, we'll make small talk or sit in fucking silence for all I care…but four o'clock, every day."

"I…" she started, trying to find some way of refusing but not outrightly so. But he looked at her expectantly, making it clear that this was not an offer, but an order. "Sure…four o'clock."

Satisfied with all of her answer he smiled at her, and for a moment it felt like she was his long awaited house guest, that he was genuinely glad she was there. "Carrie, I enjoyed arguing with you," he said lowly, coming closer to her. "Very much so."

Holding her breath as he approached she refused to let her feet move, determined to stand her ground against him. But that was easier said than done, particularly when he came right up to her and leaned in. He was close enough to smell, the hem of his jacket brushing against her belly, and she knew he enjoyed the way she stood there refusing to budge.

"It's a damn shame we'll never fuck."

Negan's breath was hot against her neck as he spoke these words, but to her utter relief he seemed to be done toying with her. Having said all he wanted he stepped away, still smiling at her as he turned on his heel and departed. Outside in the corridor there was a brief commotion, the shadows on the wall moving as the wives hastened to move before he found them eavesdropping.

"Ladies, make sure you show her around. Help her settle in," he instructed as he made his way through the living room, his voice carrying all the way back to Carrie. "Carson's expecting her a three o'clock. Don't let her be late or he'll put my dick in a vice."

Trying to come to terms with it all, Carrie sank down into the plush armchair and leant forward with her elbows on her knees. She could barely wrap her head around what had happened today, that a few hours ago she had been at home, taking a shower in her own bathroom and her eyes drinking in the sight of her husband…her husband who wasn't allowed to look at her. Her lower lip trembled when she pictured the expression on Rick's face, the way he was somehow managing to hold himself together. Whatever had to be done to ensure her and their baby's safety he would make sure it happened. And while he took care of things in Alexandria, what was she to do? Sit here and wait? And when the baby came…what was she going to do then?

Feeling the presence of someone else there Carrie raised her head, looking up just as the shadow outside her door materialised into a person. It was one of the wives, but despite the introductions she couldn't quite place her name. Like the others she wore a black dress, her red hair styled into perfect waves that fell over her shoulder, while her makeup was demure but flawless. She stood there in the threshold with a crystal drinking glass and a matching pitcher of water, but she seemed hesitant.

"Can I come in?" she asked softly.

Carrie said nothing, but a short nod of the head served as her answer. With her permission the woman came inside now, rounding to the other side of the bed and setting the glass and pitcher onto a long, narrow table she hadn't noticed before. Neatly arranged at one end was a selection of toiletries, prenatal vitamins and two white towels, while at the other end was a glass vase of flowers and an incense burner.

"If you need drinking water only get it from the coolers with the green tap," the woman began, her voice still soft. Having set the glass and pitcher down she turned to look at Carrie, leaning against her closet doors. "We have our own behind the bar. We've got a mini fridge too if you want soda."

"Thanks."

"And you should keep that cloth over the pitcher," she continued, gesturing to it. "It gets really dusty in here, and we can't afford to waste drinking water."

"Got it."

There was a pause now, the woman's gaze shifting out to the corridor where shadows still lingered on the walls, the other wives out there listening in. It seemed to annoy her, but she took a deep breath and continued nonetheless. "I'm Frankie."

Hearing the tentative tone with which she introduced herself, Carrie took a moment before responding. She recognised the name…she knew who this woman was. "I've heard about you."

"I figured," she said lowly, crossing her arms across her chest. "So who made it there? To Alexandria."

She didn't need to clarify the questions. "Lana, Vetor, Mitchell, Mina and Sonya. Sonya died last year."

"And Lana?" she asked next, and despite her plain expression her voice wavered when she said this name. "What happened to her?"

Lowering her gaze back to the floor Carrie steeled herself before answering, having tried not to think about this. For a moment she was back in Alexandria, standing before three new graves and doing everything possible to stay quiet, to let not a single sob or whimper escape her lips.

"She had appendicitis," she answered, and as she spoke the words the situation seemed to come into full focus…it became real. "We couldn't get her to a doctor."

There was a long silence now, not that Carrie had expected any different. With Frankie still standing there she kept her gaze on the carpet at her feet, blinking as she felt her eyes welling up. She couldn't fathom it. Abraham and Glenn's death she had seen with her own eyes, and hat had been hard enough to make sense of. But now Lana was dead too, and though it felt more and more real with every passing moment still she struggled to make sense of it. Lana, having made so many mistakes but still with so much of her life to live. She had only just come to terms with becoming a mother when it was all snatched away from her.

"I heard she was pregnant. Who to?"

"Daryl," she answered, figuring there was no point in hiding it. "The other prisoner here."

To her surprise Frankie gave a small laugh under her breath, the sound so out of place it compelled her to look up at her. Much to her surprise Frankie looked glad to hear this news.

"I spent a year and a half telling her she was too good for Vetor…that the grass really was greener on the other side," Frankie said lightly, unfolding her arms from across her chest. Having heard all she wanted to she headed for the door. "At least she finally listened."

In spite of the circumstances it was nice to hear this, to find there was no contempt in Frankie's tone. No one would hold it against her for resenting Lana and the rest of her group for leaving her behind the day they fled negan, but even now she seemed to sympathise for her former group leader. As Frankie departed the shadows on the wall outside moved again, and then two more of the wives appeared in the threshold, looking in at her curiously. Still feeling like an exhibition at the zoo Carrie simply got on with it, struggling to recall their names. Much like Sherry had they smiled at her politely before inviting themselves in, but they didn't go further than the foot of the bed.

"Hey. I'm Tanya," the dark haired woman introduced herself. "Do you need anything? We can show you around the place, tell you how it all works…do you have any questions?"

Though she wished they would go away, Carrie held back from telling them that. Instead she forced herself to play along, conscious that for the near future she had to live with these women. "Do you…" she began, stalling when the only question that came to mind was _do you all have sex with him together?_ "Do you always wear black?"

At this Amber smiled, but it didn't feel kind. "No. On Wednesdays we wear pink."

Carrie's brow furrowed, this opening up a whole new line of questions. "Why?"

Now Amber blatantly rolled her eyes, her former politeness done away with all together. "It's a joke," she said condescendingly. "You've never seen Mean Girls?"

"Chill out, Amber," Tanya admonished her, glancing at Carrie sympathetically. "It's not her fault she's stuck here with us."

With a look of what could only be disdain, Amber rolled her eyes again before promptly leaving, not even sparing Carrie another glance. Once she was gone Tanya's shoulders seemed to slump a little.

"Sorry about her," she apologised. "She's having a rough time right now."

Again Carrie held her tongue, but only just.

"Can I help you unpack?" Tanya offered, gesturing to her pack that Negan had left on her bed. "It might help to get settled in."

For a moment Carrie considered refusing the offer, refusing to unpack at all, but she knew it wouldn't make any difference. "Go ahead, thanks," she muttered, putting her hands on the arms of the chair and slowly pushing herself up. "Is there a bathroom close?"

"Straight across," Frankie answered, gesturing to the door before rummaging around on her pack, looking for the zipper. "None of us wanted this room because it's too close to the living room, but we figured you'd appreciate it."

"Yeah, thanks," she muttered, quickly making her way out of the room.

When she crossed the corridor she glanced up, feeling a flicker of amusement when she found the other wives practically scurrying back to the living room. Their eavesdropping was now blatantly obvious, but Carrie found she didn't mind too much. Focusing on what was now an urgent need she pushed open the door directly across the corridor, finding herself in a dimly lit bathroom vestibule within which she had to pass through a second door. It was in here that she found herself momentarily stunned, the luxuriously decorated bathroom being not at all what she had expected. Though it was clear they made use of electricity only when facilities allowed for it, the room was dimly lit by a single ceiling bulb, but a carefully selected chandelier seemed to bounce the light all around the room, making the most of it.

The bathroom was nothing short of glamorous, and what had once been a utilitarian floor was now laid with beautiful marble tiles, the wall tiles plain white but with a silvery glimmer in them, these combined with the chandelier making the room appear to subtly shimmer. Fascinated by the sheer extravagance Carrie couldn't help but look around, her desperate need to relieve herself put on hold for a few moments. While one half of the room seemed sectioned off for toilet and shower cubicles, the remainder of the space was like an open salon, with two makeup tables fitted with Hollywood mirrors taking up one wall, while the other was a dedicated station equipped with hair dryers, flat irons and curling tongs. On the shelves was a carefully curated selection of toiletries and hair products, and as she came closer and peered at the label she recognised a few of them. She used to use these costly products back in the old days, never sparing any expense for her hair and makeup routine.

Fascinated though she was she could hold on no longer, and grateful there was no one to witness she hastily waddled towards the toilet stalls, yet even in there she was struck by the lack of restraint. Was it really necessary for the toilet paper holder to be painted gold, for the floors and walls of the cubicle to be tiled in the same matching marble? As she relieved herself she looked around at the toilet itself, noting that it was the same type of contraption as the one in the bathroom Laura had taken her too. Only difference was that it was dressed up a hell of a lot nicer than just a simple water tank with a handle to pump. Even within the Sanctuary itself, Carrie was in a whole other world.

Finishing up, and taking note of the sign on the back of the toilet door that read _6 days without a tinkle on the toilet seat_ _,_ Carrie made her way to the counter where three sinks were lined up. Without proper plumbing they made do with enormous tanks of water, and recalling what Frankie had said about the drinking water she took note that the water tank in here was a red tap, water not for drinking. Trying not to be wasteful she quickly washed her hands, amazed that even the hand soap was utter perfection. It left her skin feeling soft and moisturised, and it smelled of apricots.

Wondering how long these women had been living in the lap of luxury for she continued taking a quick peep around, looking into the two shower stalls for which no expense had been spared, and then into a separate room that housed an enormous clawfoot bath tub. This room too was nicely decorated, some scented candles and incense artfully laid out, while on a brass legged stood sat a small CD player…it was excessive, but completely in keeping with what she had already seen.

"What did you think?" Tanya asked when she returned to her new room. "A little over the top?"

"It's nice," she softly answered, not knowing what else to say.

Tanya seemed to smile, but Carrie got the feeling she too felt the bathroom was extravagant. "There's a schedule for the showers, it's kind of just an unwritten understanding of who goes when. Same with the hair and make up station, and if you want to take a bath you have to organise it in advance, give the workers a few hours to bring the water up." Tanya paused for a moment, trying to gauge if Carrie was interested in any of this, but she continued talking as if she needed to fill the silence. "It gets cleaned every day at three o'clock, so plan ahead. But if you absolutely have to go and the workers are cleaning just tell one of us, we can take you to Negan's bathroom. You'd think he'd mind, but he won't."

"Thanks," she murmured as she resumed her seat in the plush armchair, not knowing what else to say or do.

"Is this…" Tanya began, gesturing to the closet behind her. The few pieces of clothing and personal items Carrie had brought from home were already neatly arranged, her shirt and sweater on a hanger and her leggings neatly folded. "Is this all you bought with you?"

"I wasn't packing for a vacation."

Tanya nodded, looking a little embarrassed now. "I'll talk to the other moms here," she continued, her tone brightening now. "I'll find out what you need for the baby, make sure you have everything you need."

"Thanks," she automatically said, though in reality she wasn't ready to think that far ahead just yet. The thought of having her baby here in the Sanctuary was just too difficult to bear. "Do you have the time?"

"Mmmhmm," she nodded, raising her wrist and looking at her watch. "It's just after two. I can get you a wristwatch too if you'd like."

To that Carrie didn't answer. Instead she took a slow, deep breath, wondering if she could really do what she was starting to consider. Dr Carson wasn't expecting to see her until three o'clock…there was plenty of time between now and then.

"Tanya, can I really just go anywhere?" she asked tentatively.

She looked at her in mild surprise, but nodded affirmatively. "Negan said wherever you like. You'll probably get a lot of questions if you go outside, so I wouldn't even bother."

"But, anywhere?" she questioned skeptically. "Me?"

Again she nodded. "The rule of thumb for the wives is that if the door is unlocked, we can go in. Anything restricted has a lock. You can go anywhere you like," she repeated.

"Okay," she murmured, her mind already starting to race. Could she remember the way down to the cells? How confident was she that she had paid attention to the route getting up here? Could she easily replicate that route, but in reverse?

"Carrie…you'll figure out soon enough that just because you can go anywhere, that doesn't mean you'll want to. Don't go too far out of the way, alright? Go down to the marketplace, to the library, the gym, the laundry, but I wouldn't bother anywhere else."

Reaching her decision, she pushed herself back up out of the chair. "I should go," she began, making herself smile at Tanya. "I don't want to be late for Dr Carson."

"He's not expecting you for almost an hour."

"I'm a slow walker," she said lightly, smiling again. "Thanks for unpacking for me. That was really nice of you."

"You're welcome," she murmured, disappointed that she was leaving so soon.

Venturing out into the living area Carrie prepared herself for the stares and curiosity, simply keeping her gaze straight ahead of herself and concentrating on where she had to go. When she reached the grand double doors it took all her bravery to go through them, to proceed out into the rest of the Sanctuary. It felt like she was doing something wrong, that she was making a terrible mistake. How stupid could she be to think that she could safely roam about this place? But she listened to what she had been repeatedly told today, that she was being afforded a certain level of freedom and was expected to take advantage of it. Negan himself had told her to make herself at home, to find her way around…she was only doing what he told her to do.

The guard was still at his post by the windows, but he made no comment upon seeing her. What the hell was he even there for? Determined to succeed she set off down the corridor, taking her time to try and avoid getting lost. Her doctor's visit was the least of her concerns right now, her attention focused solely on finding Daryl. There was little she could do for him, but she needed to tell him that she was okay, to offer him that reassurance. She imagined him sitting in that cold, dank cell, in agony from being shot and the week old knife wound that was yet to heal. Surely there would be something she could do for him. At the very least she had to find him some water, but that in itself posed another problem…how to get it to him.

Reaching the end of the corridor she slowed to a stop and swore under her breath, having been certain she would find a staircase here. Instead she was faced with two paths to take, left or right, and neither of which felt like the correct choice. She started left and then faltered a moment, not entirely certain she recognised this hallway. Second guessing herself she turned on her heel and went the other way instead, and when she was halfway down she started to hear footsteps behind her.

It was a steady _click_ on the concrete floor, the type of footfall that could only be made by the stride of a woman wearing high heels, the type of walk she herself had a very long time ago. Suspecting that one of the wives was following her she sped up her pace, walking as quickly as possible. But when she reached the stairs she was looking for she had to slow down a little, one hand reaching down to support her belly while the other clutched at the railing. Behind her the sound of the clicking heels sped up considerably, and by the time she reached the foot of the stairs she knew her efforts to race ahead were only in vain.

"Carrie, please," Sherry panted, looking visibly relieved to have caught up to her. "Don't make me chase you, these shoes are ridiculous."

Stopping now that she had been caught Carrie looked back up the stairs, and couldn't help but agree about the shoes. "You said it."

Descending with care, Sherry joined her at the foot of the stairs. "Negan's over six feet tall. I need all the height I can get," she muttered, looking Carrie up and down. "I'll walk you down."

"You don't have to do that," Carrie refused, though no one had shown her to the doctor's office. "I can find my way."

When Sherry started to protest Carrie did the only thing she could, and she set off at another fast pace. One hand still reaching below her belly she did her best to walk as normally as possible, to hide the pronounced waddle and the discomfort in her hips, but her speed made it all the more difficult. Behind her Sherry was following again, and Carrie could tell by the sound of her footfall that she was struggling in those heels. It would only take five minutes for her to lose the company, to be alone so that she could go to Daryl. Increasingly confident that she could remember the way she strode down the corridor, passing three other corridors and keeping count of them.

"Carrie, wait up," Sherry called out. "Just let me come with you."

"I'm fine, thanks," she called back politely, not even looking over her shoulder.

"You're going the wrong way."

Certain it was a trick Carrie refused to slow down, but when Sherry called out to her again she relented. Slowing to a stop she stood there in the middle of the corridor, trying to decide what to do. Reluctantly she turned back to find Sherry waiting at the mouth of a corridor she had just walked past, and when she returned and looked down she recognised it…Sherry was right. With one hand bracing herself against the wall she was readjusting each of the platform heels she wore, wincing as she stood upright and settled her feet back into them, but before she could say another word Carrie had set off down the corridor without her.

"Carrie," she called out again, sounding genuinely impatient. "Just wait for me, okay?"

This time she complied, trying not to give a heavy sigh as she slowed to another stop and waited. Behind her Sherry's heels clicked on the floor, her steps a little wobbly until she reached a comfortable stride and pace. When she caught up she was pulling the hem of her black dress further down her legs, and then to Carrie's surprise she reached up and began rifling around in her bra.

"I know what you want to do. Why you want to go alone," she added, withdrawing three plastic ziplock bags and showing them to her. "I've been going down there myself, but I can only go when no one's watching. They won't stop you."

Carrie looked at her for a moment, warily trusting that they were both thinking about the same person. "What are the bags for?"

"How else are you going to get water under the door?" she answered, swiftly tucking them back into her bra before setting off again, and this time it was Carrie following her. "I can tell you from experience there's no getting a straw through the keyhole."

"You've been taking water to Daryl?" she asked quietly, the ache in her chest easing when Sherry nodded. "Thank you."

"Just a couple times," she said, sounding apologetic. "Like I said, I can only go when no one's watching."

Though she suspected Sherry was acting out of guilt, Carrie didn't openly question her motivations. Instead she took the turn of events as a stroke of good fortune, simply grateful that for the few days in which she too had been confined to a cell Daryl had some access to water. She hadn't been deluded enough to think that he was getting the same luxuries of food, water and bedding that she had.

Together they proceeded through the Sanctuary, and as they entered the more populated areas Carrie could feel everyone looking at her, their eyes drawn to her like magnets. There was a moment in which their gaze dropped and their eyes widened, pregnancy so rare these days. But like earlier no one seemed surprised to see her freely walking around, and no one raised a concern when they stopped at a cooler with a green tap and began filling the ziplock bags with water.

"Negan probably told them not to, but some of the guys might hit on you," Sherry warned, sealing the bag before passing it to her. "Just tell them no, and if they don't let up then threaten to tell Negan."

"Will that be enough?" she asked in worry, sickened by the though she would have to put up with that. Despite Negan's assurances, there was no denying that she was in an incredibly vulnerable position right now, that it would only be too easy to take advantage of her.

"Yes," Sherry emphasised, reassuring her. "They know how he'd react, and word will get out that you're not a push over. They'll leave you alone, but you'll have a tolerate a little first.

"Even at nine months pregnant?" she asked, concealing the baggies of water in the pockets of her coat.

"Yeah, even then. And by the way, if Negan ever asks what the others and I talk about up there, tell him it's none of his business," she instructed. "Tell him to butt out."

"I-I can't tell him that," she practically spluttered.

"He won't be mad. He'll respect you for it. He knows the way it is."

Keeping her advice in mind, Carrie scrutinised the bags of water. "We can't fill them any more?" she asked, showing her that they were only half filled.

Sealing the third and passing it over Sherry shook her head. "No, we won't be able to get it under the door if they're too full."

They headed back down the hallway they had just come, and then began descending to the basement level. Feeling disoriented and confused she was admittedly grateful that Sherry had come with her, for had she come alone she would have been wandering around lost, late for her appointment with Carson. If Negan heard about that he would ask where she was, and she didn't want to draw attention to what she was doing and for how.

Finally recognising where they were Carrie's heart began to speed up, and she could feel it thudding in her chest with every step. They were almost there, she'd almost reached him. Any minute now she would be there with Daryl, separated by a door but free to talk, to rehash what happened back home in Alexandria. It had been a hours, but it felt like days had passed since they were separated upon their return to the Sanctuary. They hadn't been able to talk, Carrie barely having a moment to whisper that they were going to be okay before David took him away.

Though her heart was racing in anticipation, the moment Carrie rounded the corner to Daryl's cell it fell, for she was met with nothing. Coming to a dead stop she faced the open door of the empty cell, bitter disappointment welling up inside of her. Wherever he was right now he wasn't there…she couldn't talk to him, she could see that he was okay…she couldn't do anything for him. Ignoring Sherry who was trying to reassure her she tentatively made her way into the cell, determining the mess she had seen on the floor that morning was indeed vomit. Her chest started to ache as she stepped inside, holding her breath when she was confronted with the smell of vomit and urine, unable to fathom that this was where he had been confined for the last few days. The cell was completely empty and half the size of her own, the four walls surely making him feel incredibly lost and alone.

"Carrie, we should go," Sherry said in worry. "There's no point in staying here."

Still ignoring her Carrie looked around a little more, her interest captured by a small square of paper on the floor. Before investigating the looked around the cell and found a dark corner that the Saviours were unlikely to notice, and it was there she deposited the three plastic bags of water, hoping he would find them. Bracing herself against the wall she carefully lowered herself down into a crouch, gagging a little when she had to take a breath of the putrid air, and then she reached for the square of paper.

"Don't look at that," Sherry implored, rushing in before the smell compelled her to stop at the threshold. "You don't want to see it."

It was these words that drove her to do it anyway, to pick up the paper and turn it over. The moment it was in her hands she knew it was a polaroid, but nothing could prepare her to come face to face with Glenn's corpse once again. She shuddered and looked away, and the bile that rose in her throat wasn't from the smell in here. Days later she still felt strange about what happened that night, her mind swinging from reluctant acceptance back to genuine disbelief that Glenn and Abraham were dead. She remembered the shell shocked way she kept looking at their corpses, Glenn's in particular. At the time she had felt angry with him for not getting back up, almost as if he was just being lazy and wasn't trying hard enough to recover.

A sucker for punishment Carrie turned back to the polaroid picture and studied it, her eyes drawn to the blue of Glenn's shirt, to his unharmed hand that lay beside him. He had never worn a wedding ring, but Carrie had never thought to ask why…she supposed now it didn't really matter. It wasn't about her grief for him, it was about Maggie and Herschel's, the innocent baby who would never truly know the father who had loved him so much. For a moment Carrie felt herself choking up, struck for a moment by the possibility that her own baby would never know their father. If something happened to Rick their baby would only ever have her memories of him, Carl's memories…Judith was so young she wouldn't remember him either.

Taking note of the sticky tape across the top Carrie folded the polaroid in half before tucking it into her pocket. She didn't want Daryl to be tortured by the sight of this anymore than he already had been, for it didn't take a leap to suspect that the Saviours had told him he was responsible. He had punched Negan, had tried to take a stand against it all, and Carrie didn't blame him. She recalled the moment in vivid detail, picturing the way Negan had been shoving a bloodied Lucille into Lana's face, yelling at her to look at it. Had Daryl panicked? Was he trying to deflect attention away from Lana, the woman carrying his child who was inexplicably dying before his eyes?

"Carrie, let's go," Sherry insisted, braving the smell to come inside the cell and help her up. "I know where he'll be."

Complying, she lingered only to look around to ensure there were no other polaroids about, wondering if one had been taken of Abraham's remains too. In her pocket she clenched the one of Glenn, reminding herself to flush or otherwise dispose of it by any means necessary. Leaving Daryl's empty cell behind she silently followed Sherry back up the way they had come, her mind and body feeling exhausted by everything going on. She wanted nothing other than to see Daryl before curling up somewhere and falling asleep, to be blissfully unaware of everything going on right now.

Though she wasn't paying much attention to where they went she quickly began to recognise her surroundings, recalling that Laura had brought her this way, though that felt like it must have been days ago. They weren't far from where the workers were, the marketplace in which they lived and made their living, but they were going upstairs instead. Just as Carrie was starting to wondering if Sherry was tricking her, if maybe they were going straight to Dr Carson's or back to their rooms, they slowed to a stop in front of an enormous set of windows. The same type as upstairs in Negan's room, the windows gave clear sight lines to the front of the Sanctuary, and it was out there that Sherry was drawing her attention.

"He's there," Sherry said after a few moments looking. "Outside the main fence. Do you see him?"

"No," she replied in worry, her brow furrowed as she looked. Outside the main fence were dozens of Walkers on chains, each of them snarling and eager to sink their teeth into something with a pulse. What on earth was Daryl doing out there?

Sherry ushered her to come a few steps to her left, and then carefully pointed him out to her. "There, by the main gate where the trucks come in. That's him walking through the dead, checking the chains. You see?"

Her heart sank yet again, having not realised that the moving figure was alive, that it was Daryl. Horrified, she watched on as he carefully made his way around the Walkers, and perhaps it was a blessing that she had to watch this from a distance, that she couldn't see how close he was to the rotting corpses that could so quickly overpower him. He was weakened by injury and poor conditions, and he surely had no weapon.

"This is good," Sherry assured her, putting her hand on Carrie's arm as she spoke. "He's a worker now. They'll stop hurting him, they'll give him food and water. This is the best he could hope for."

"Really?" she questioned bitterly, looking at Sherry in disdain. "The best he could hope for?"

Sherry didn't wither under Carrie's disdainful glare. "If he won't kneel to Negan, this is as good as it gets for him."

Carrie simply stared at her, unable to believe the words coming out of this woman's mouth, but thankfully she wasn't struck dumb. "Why did you come back here?" she questioned angrily, suddenly understanding why Daryl had been so bitter that Dwight and Sherry had taken advantage of him out in the woods. "Daryl would have brought you to Alexandria. We would have welcomed you, treated you as our own…so why did you come back here?"

Not reacting to Carrie's anger, Sherry simply looked back out the window as she spoke, watching Daryl. "D and I…it was stupid of us to leave in the first place. We did the right thing in coming back," she stated, sounding like she had repeated this argument many times before. "We faced the consequences and moved on, but not Lana."

"What about her?" Carrie snarled as she stepped towards her, and it was so satisfying to see Sherry look up at her in alarm.

"We knew Lana was never coming back, but that didn't mean she was safe. Negan will always find you. D and I are alive because we came back, because we asked forgiveness. Lana is dead because she ran. It's as simple as that."

"We would have protected you," she argued. "We would have had the upper hand, a-"

"You couldn't protect us," Sherry argued, her voice frustratingly calm. "Lana is proof of that."

She couldn't help the small gasp, that comment hurting a great deal. In that moment she remembered all the times Rick had talked about looking out for Lana, about making sure she stayed in Alexandria so that Vetor couldn't continue taking advantage of her. After everything they had tried to do, still they hadn't been able to protect her.

"Carrie, even if you get the chance to run, don't," Sherry whispered, holding her gaze. "Because if you run from Negan, there's more. There's always more."

Turning away from her Carrie looked back out the windows, her heart aching as she looked down at Daryl's small figure in the distance. Negan wanted to turn him against his own people, to wear him down into submission and then take him from them…and he wanted her too. He had taken her from her family, had robbed her of the chance to look forward to the birth of her baby instead of dreading it…and now Sherry was telling her not to run? She couldn't fathom it, she just couldn't…

"It can't get worse than this," she said firmly, believing it with her entire being. "You don't know me, Sherry. You don't know my people…I'm not staying here, and neither is Daryl."

* * *

A/N - apologies for the delay with this chapter! Likely no chapter this weekend either (perhaps mid week).

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and the glimpse into Carrie's new living situation, and particularly Negan's approach to hosting her. Like I said before, this is not going to be doom and gloom forever - Carrie's kick ass nature is still there, she just has to bide her time for the right moment.

Next chapter will be a Rick and Lana chapter in which a long held secret is revealed. I think you'll enjoy the twist on the TV storyline!

Please do leave a review!


	50. Chapter 50

_Fourteen months ago._

In the dark stairwell that led to the basement level, a gloomy maze of corridors and prison cells, Lana sat at the top of the stairs and waited. Echoing through the sombre corridors was a mournful cry, the gut wrenching sound of someone who had just lost everything. Though she sat there waiting for the right time she wanted nothing other than to rush down there and take her friend into her arms, to comfort her and lie. Lie that everything was going to be okay, that life was still worth living in spite the loss she had suffered. Lana too was crying, feeling what must be only a slither of her friend's pain.

While she waited she reached down and smoothed the duct tape that held the toe and sole of her left boot together. She had been hoping to save enough points to buy a new pair from Seven, the guy whose actual name she could never remember. He was holding a new pair in her size, but first she needed to earn the points she owed for Terrence's medicine, for the two week supply of antibiotics. She'd heard rumours that Negan was reducing the cost of medicine, but that he was reluctant to do it too soon, that he feared the points might become less valuable if he changed too much too quickly. Nevertheless she was willing to wait, for her boots were holding together with the duct tape, and she'd worn worse for longer.

In the back of her mind she was fraught with worry, constantly rehashing the points for which she was in debt. Her points had been in credit for a while now, the mantra of _earn what you take_ being a slippery slope into debt. It encouraged people to take what they needed and work it off later, and though it fulfilled needs immediately, it enabled them to fall further and further behind. Then again, perhaps that was what Negan wanted, perhaps it was a strategy for his own gain. Lately she'd been considering her options, and so too had Vetor. He, Mitchell and Doug were trying to work their way into Negan's ranks, to earn a promotion that would wipe their debt and earn them better conditions. Any promotion would be good for all of them, and it would stall the only other alternative that Vetor had suggested…Lana marrying Negan.

It was an option on the table, but it was a last resort, to be used only if they found themselves in dire circumstances. It would mean leaving Vetor and being unfaithful to him. The perks aside, she'd have to have sex with Negan, and she wasn't so sure she was up for that. When she said it out loud to herself she thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She'd dated before, had gone home with the guys she deemed worthy of a second date…but Negan? These days a woman's body was a commodity to her, an asset…she wasn't so sure she was ready to start using hers for points.

She thought of Vetor now, hoping that he was okay. Having missed the initial commotion that ensued it was through him that she had come to learn the horrific news of what happened today. For a month now he'd been joining Simon's group for tributes, trying to earn the Lieutenants favour and a place at his outpost, and he had been there when everything went to hell. After months of cooperation another group fought back, Vetor barely making it through the gunfight unscathed. But his survival meant that he was there when Simon took retaliative action, forced to watch. When they returned he told Lana what happened, barely able to speak, his words constantly slipping back and forth between Portuguese and English, making it even harder for her to keep up. For the first time in her years of knowing him he had cried, overcome with remorse for the role he had played, though he wasn't the one who had pulled the trigger.

It had been an attempt to overthrow Simon's group, and attempt that was thwarted in minutes…and then the executions began. Men and boys lined up, shot one by one while the rest of the survivors watched on. High on the success of beating down the attack Simon had returned to the Sanctuary triumphant, bragging about what had been accomplished that day. He thought Negan would be pleased, that he would be proud of his heavy handed punishment against those who resisted them…but he was wrong.

It was thirty more minutes before the crying downstairs eased up, much to Lana's relief. Moving slowly she crept down and peeked her head around the corner, frustrated to see that someone was still standing guard outside the cell, and so she was forced to keep waiting. Another twenty minutes passed before the guard was satisfied their new prisoner was not going to cause trouble, that she could be left alone to grieve. As soon as Lana saw them leave their post she emerged and made her way down the corridor, conscious that her duct taped boot was squeaking.

She passed the cell in which Simon was imprisoned on Negan's orders, and she hoped Negan kept him down there forever. But Lana knew how this all worked, and she didn't get her hopes up. Negan went ballistic with rage when he learned what Simon had done, he had practically foamed at the mouth, and no one would have been surprised if he had brought down Lucille onto his top Lieutenant. But Simon would earn his forgiveness one way or another…he would regain what he had lost in spite of executing thirty people.

Slipping the stolen keys from her pocket, keys that were going to cost her severely, she found the right one and them slipped it into the lock of the last cell. The lock and handle seemed flimsy in the frame, indicating why someone had been standing guard outside until the occupant calmed. When Lana pushed the door open she braced herself for an attack, to hastily quieten the person inside, but she entered without incident. Until that moment she hadn't realised that grief could be tangible, that it was something she could physically feel in the air, but when she stepped inside the cell she felt it hit her all at once.

Sitting in the corner of the cell was Arat, her head resting on the knees she had pulled up to her chest. It wasn't enough for the Saviours to lock her up, they had restrained her too, securing one hand to the opposite ankle to prevent any further attempts to fight them. Despite her intrusion Arat didn't even look up, giving no reaction to someone entering the cell. Heart pounding in her chest Lana quickly removed the key from the lock and then closed it as far as she dared, leaving it ajar so that she could get back out.

Enough light filtered into the room through the door, and so she sank to her knees in front of Arat and placed her hand on her knee, a small gesture to let her know that the intruder came in peace. Coaxing her to look up Lana sadly looked her over, wishing she had thought to bring some first aid supplies. There was a little blood crusted around Arat's nostrils and upper lip, while her knuckles were scraped and bruised. Given the chaos that had unfolded after her outburst it was a small miracle she was otherwise unharmed.

When Arat learned what had happened to the family she left behind she had lost control of herself, so overcome with grief and outrage that she had lunged for Simon, she being the first to lay fists. But that type of action wasn't for Arat to carry out, especially not before Negan gave the order himself. She had landed one hit before others converged on her, trying to restrain her, but it had only made her worse. Completely beside herself she lashed out at everyone, deranged with grief that compelled her to fight anyone who dared try stopping her. Now though all fight was gone, leaving her completely broken. She looked up at Lana with a sorrowful stare, eyes devoid of all hope.

"Arat," Lana started, wishing she knew what to say to her. "I…I'm so sorry."

A gasp caught in Arat's throat, making her whole body tremble. Her lips trembled now, eyes clenching shut as she started to cry again. "Please," she whimpered, her face screwing up as she dissolved into strained sobs. "Lana, please…"

"What?" she said urgently, reaching over and pushing the messy curls off her face. "Arat, what?"

Inconsolable, Arat reached out and grabbed the front of her shirt, crying so hard she barely made a sound. Understanding, she moved closer and pulled Arat into her arms, comforting her as her body quaked with every silent sob.

Thanks to Simon, six months had been wasted. That was how long Arat had been there at the Sanctuary, taken hostage from her group the very first day the Saviours had attacked them. She had become a prisoner, forced to work on the fences clearing Walkers, scrubbing toilets or mopping floors, and every night returned to the same dingy cell she was forced to call her own. After a few months of smooth sailing between the Saviours and Arat's group she had been allowed to join the workers, having proved she could be useful and was worthy of a chance. She had been given the bunk next to Lana's, and they had quickly become friends. Lana consoled her when her heart ached of homesickness, and Arat helped her settle in to life at the Sanctuary, a place that at the time was still relatively new to her and her group.

Now, after a time of relative peace thirty of Arat's people had been executed, punishment for fighting back. People she loved, all of them dead without mercy. The only kindness was that Simon had killed the kids first, that they didn't have to watch on as the others were executed before them.

Some time had elapsed, maybe thirty minutes, and for now it seemed Arat had stopped crying. Her cheeks were dry though her eyes were still red and puffy, but she stared at the opposite wall, her face lacking all expression. She seemed strangely calm, and Lana didn't blame her for wanting to sink into nothingness. It had been bad enough what Negan did to her group at the very start, that he had taken her as prisoner without telling her when she would be freed…many more of her people were dead now. All the suffering they had endured was for nothing.

"That camping ground you told me about," Arat murmured, her voice level and calm.

"Oceanside Cabin Motor Court," she murmured wistfully, the name immediately bringing to mind the large gate and sign that bore the name.

"Tell me about it again," she requested, picking at a loose thread on her jeans. "You stayed there, right? Before you came here."

"Yes."

"Tell me about it."

"There's not much to say. There's cabins and a beach."

"You said it was nice."

Recognising the yearning tone in Arat's voice, Lana answered for her benefit. "It was beautiful. The trees were nice, so dense the dead could hardly get through them…and you could hear the beach from the cabins. It was peaceful. I wanted to stay."

"How many cabins?"

"I don't know. Plenty."

"How many?"

Getting concerned by how direct her questions were, Lana hesitated before answering. "Forty, I think."

Silence resumed again, Arat still picking at that loose thread on her jeans. Eventually she seemed to give it up, resuming her former occupation of staring at the opposite wall. Meanwhile Lana simply continued holding her hand, wishing there was something she could do to ease her friends pain…and then it came to her. Arat wasn't asking those questions out of curiosity, nor from a desire to let her mind whisk her away to some place else.

"Arat. I, uhh…I…" Lana began, dithering over herself. She wanted to tell her that it was too risky, that should she be caught she would surely be killed, and not mercifully either. Yet she couldn't bring herself to refuse, to say anything that might cause her more pain.

"You don't have to do anything bad," Arat whispered. She wouldn't look her in the eye, too scared that she would reject the notion entirely. "Just go to them, tell Natania about that place. She'll take care of the rest."

To help a group escape Negan would be treasonous. If he ever found out he would kill her for sure. But really it was simple…all she had to do was tell Arat's group about the Oceanside Cabin Motor Court, a safe place to which they could flee the Saviours. A temporary moratorium on tributes was likely, it was what he had done after a lesser incident with another group who were now long gone.

"How would I get to them?" she whispered, needing Arat's help to figure this out.

"They're east of here. If you just take th-"

"No, how would I get out of here?" she clarified. "I get questions just for being outside in the yard. And if someone saw me out there…"

Her lips parting around words she couldn't say, Arat simply stared at the opposite wall, trying to come up with a solution. "I…I don't know," she whimpered. "I don't know what else to do."

Not saying anything, Lana put her head back against the wall and tried to think, both searching for a solution and an excuse not to do it. It wasn't even getting in trouble for leaving the Sanctuary that worried her, for she could come up with a range of excuses to explain her departure. Sooner or later Negan and his men would discover that Arat's group had fled. If they connected that to Lana's absence they would know…she would be the one to suffer the consequences.

"When do you think they'll let you out of here?"

Arat uselessly lifted her hand that was cuffed to the opposite foot, the metal rattling in the otherwise quiet cell. "Simon will be out before me. I ain't shit to Negan."

Though she agreed with that, she didn't want Arat to despair. "When the time is right, you can go too," she assured her. "You can be with your family again."

"No, I can't," she whispered, a small gasp straining at her throat. "I can't ever face them again after what I did."

"That wasn't your fault. Negan made you chose. He's sick…he's fucked up."

"And I chose her son."

"You had to chose someone."

"And I chose her son," she repeated, looking around at her now. "Her son."

"It was the right choice," she implored, taking her free hand and squeezing it, trying to alleviate the guilt she had carried for months now. "He was already dying."

It made no difference, and Arat simply put her head back and closed her eyes. Her hand in Lana's was limp, not responding to her comforting squeeze. "I can never face Natania again."

From the hall outside came the sound of footsteps, Lana's heart leaping into her throat. She had left the door ajar, and this cell would be the only destination down here. No more could be discussed, the opportunity to convince Arat that none of it was her fault taken from them both. When Arat hurriedly whispered for her to do it Lana embraced her and held her tight, kissing her on the cheek just as the door was pushed open.

"Let's go," David said sharply, nudging her with the toe of his boot. "Come on."

"I'll try," she whispered softly, her words muffled in Arat's curly hair. "I promise I'll try."

When David nudged her again she hastened to do as she was told, knowing full well he could make things difficult for her here. Forcing herself to pull away she looked at Arat once more before leaving, wishing she could stay a little longer, but she didn't dare ask for more time. As she left she kept her head low and walked quickly down the halls, trying to avoid having to face David, but it was no use. The moment he slammed the door to Arat's cell shut and locked her in there were footsteps in the hall, David pursuing her.

"Where you going so fast?" he called out, his tone of voice giving her the creeps already. "You got boomerangs to chase?"

"You don't chase boomerangs," she muttered under her breath. "Arsehole."

He quickly caught up, looking at her insistently. "Come on. Pay up."

"I'm not sucking you off," she said, all but shoving him aside when he tried to step in her way. She tossed him the keys she had bartered, keys she never had any intentions of paying for.

"A deal's a deal."

"That kind of deal isn't allowed."

"Hey," he said sharply, still following her when she began to ascend the stairs. "You're gonna pay up."

Stopping halfway up she turned around the face him, and she didn't need indignation to put him back in his place. He had been there with Arat's group that day, had been witness to what Simon did…hell, he would have been willing participant if Simon hadn't wanted all the glory for himself. A step below her she stared down at him, enjoying the glimmer of hope in his eyes when she took a step towards him. But instead of paying up she pressed the heel of her boot into the top of his foot, having noted he was wearing only a light pair of sneakers. Her weight wasn't enough to really hurt him, not even when she pressed all her weight down, but it was her disdainful expression that really drove it home.

"Leave me alone, or I'll tell Negan you forced yourself on me."

He scoffed at her, eyes narrowed as he pulled his foot out from beneath her heel. "Your w-"

"I'll tell Negan I found you with Arat…messing with the prisoner you were supposed to be guarding."

"Your word against mine," he snarled.

"Your word means nothing anymore," she countered, taking another step down when he retreated a little. "Negan knows what you are."

"Don't piss me off, little girl."

"Suck your own dick," she said scathingly, leaving him there. "You're spineless enough to reach."

She had made it to the top of the stairs before he called out to her again, but despite her ever so brief spur of confidence and self assurance, his words brought her to a halt. Her heart skipped a beat, a sick feeling stirring in the pit of her stomach.

"Awfully kind of you to help out her folks."

There was a distinct sense of dread as David joined her at the top of the stairs, Lana lost for words as she tried to think, to figure out if he really knew or if he was just trying to mess with her. But his comment had been too specific to be random, and the knowing look in his eyes said it all.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, furrowing her brow and looking him in the eye.

"No need to be coy with me. At least, not until you pay up," he added with a smirk, moving a little closer to her. "I heard what you're planning."

"I said I'm not sucking you off," she reminded him as she walked away, trying to feign impatience. "Go harass someone else."

"You think you're gonna manage it all on your own?" he asked smugly, taking her by the elbow and making her stop. "Wouldn't it be nice to send those poor folks on their way with a few supplies to ease their grief?"

Her heart was pounding in her throat, though somehow she managed to keep her face impassive. She was screwed already…soon to be literally screwed if she didn't get herself out of this. How much had he heard? Enough to know she was planning to help Arat's surviving family…but enough to hear about the motor court?

"I told Arat what she wanted to hear," she stated, yanking her elbow out of his grip. "Her people are not my problem. They have to help themselves like everyone else."

"I'm willing to help you," he added, though she wasn't naive enough to believe this. "Those folks are going to need more than the clothes on their backs."

Ignoring him, Lana left without another word, not paying attention to what he said, but her mind was in turmoil. How could she do anything for Arat's family now that David had overheard her plans? Though he hadn't mentioned it by name, would it even be safe for those people at the motor court?

It was for that reason that she didn't even try anything for over a week, conscious that David was watching her every move, not that she couldn't feel his eyes on her body any other time. When she made her move it was only after ensuring that he wouldn't notice her gone, a few drops of laxative in his food leaving him confined to a toilet stall long enough for her to leave the Sanctuary. At the time she had been paranoid that she would be caught, that David had tasked his arsehole mates with keeping an eye on her, but his plan had been smarter than that. He knew she would never accept his help in exchange for sex, and so he didn't corner her until it was over, until she was desperate.

Actually sneaking out of the Sanctuary and finding Arat's group was the easy part, as was compelling them to leave. The moment she told them she was Arat's friend they listened to her, and though they were wary they seemed to listen to her message of safe haven four hours south. She told them everything they needed, even where they would be able to steal a few supplies and weapons from the Saviours, and then she had fled back to the Sanctuary. All in all her venture took little more than five hours, and everything had been as close to perfect as possible. No one noticed that she was gone that day, that she took a motorbike and gas without authorisation…it wasn't until after the group was discovered gone that the shit hit the fan.

The discovery was inevitable, that much she had been prepared for, but when David cornered her as she worked in the laundry room she finally realised his plan. Having accepted her refusal to sleep with him he took a different tact, waiting until she had committed treason against Negan and then blackmailing her for it. But with his hand on her waist and hot breath on her neck as he told her what he expected in return for silence her resolve broke, and her stout refusal to sleep with him left her with no other option. She had been found out by him, and even if she did sleep with him it didn't guarantee that would be the end of it…he would hold this secret over her for as long as they both lived, over Arat too.

In a panic she bolted, fleeing the laundry room and sprinting through the Sanctuary. She'd already spent weeks rehearsing what she would do if she was ever found out, if David saw through her poor attempt to hide what she had done. She didn't stop to speak to anyone in her group, especially not Vetor whose response she anticipated already. He would tell her not to do it, that it was best they leave the Sanctuary and go out on their own again, but he was determined not to see the consequences of that action. Negan would never let them leave, especially not under a cloud of suspicion.

Playing the only card she had left Lana chose to tell the truth, and she turned herself in to Negan. She'd been to his quarters only once before, the day he had suggested she consider becoming one of his wives, and her refusal of his offer meant she wasn't invited back a second time. But today she sprinted up there, and without knocking she went crashing into his room. She found him sitting on his couch with the points ledger in his lap, scowling in the aftermath of having found that one of his best producing communities had fled.

"It was me," she breathlessly confessed, her voice just shy of a shout. "I helped them."

Giving little reaction to her abrupt intrusion, Negan didn't even look up from the ledger. "Well the fuck else would it have been?" he questioned dryly, turning a page.

Trembling from head to toe she stood there and awaited her fate, trying to convince herself she had done the right thing. Giving in to David's blackmail would have been a never ending torment, not a one time thing, leaving her with only Negan to turn to. She knew him very little, but in her few months here at the Sanctuary she had come to learn enough to understand the kind of thing he might like. Coming to him and confessing what she had done would be something he respected…but that didn't mean she would avoid the consequences.

"W-what are you going to do to me?" she asked, dreading the answer. It was common knowledge how Negan punished his people, but surely anything he inflicted on her would be better than becoming David's next conquest.

When Negan didn't answer she cleared her throat and asked again, but got only halfway through when he raised his finger in a call for silence. For the next few minutes she stood there in the middle of his room, watching on in dread as he continued flipping through the points ledger, signing the pages and occasionally sipping at a bottle of beer on the coffee table. Not once did he look up at her, instead drawing out the tension and anxiety for as long as he could.

A sound in the hall behind her made her whirl around, and if it were possible her heart sank even deeper into her stomach upon finding Vetor. Having crept down the hallway he was only just visible to her through the door, but he peered in at her in bewilderment, wondering what the hell was going on. She hadn't told him what she did for Arat's group, but no doubt he was beginning to suspect. Just like he had been the day Simon massacred them, Vetor had joined Negan and the Satellite outpost when they went back there and discovered them gone. Wishing he would go away Lana gave a small shake of her head and then turned her back on him, determined to face the consequences. Vetor would only tell her they should run, but Negan would never let that happen.

"Shut the door," Negan instructed sharply.

In spite of the time that had passed Lana was still trembling, her lower lip quivering as she tried to collect herself. Doing as instructed she closed the door that she had left open, shutting Vetor out completely, and then she turned back to Negan. The ledger was closed but still rested on his lap, while his head was tipped back as he finished the last of his beer. Like before he drew out the tension, setting his empty bottle down and then staring at her long and hard.

"What do you think your punishment should be?"

Lana paused before speaking, trying to steady her voice, to hide her fear. "You should throw me out."

At this Negan scoffed, looking at her properly. He continued to stare at her, his intense gaze making her feel like he already knew all her secrets. "Throw out someone who owes me tens of thousands of points? That's not smart."

She faltered at this, beginning to feel a little faint. "What?"

"Tens of thousands. That's what you owe me."

Realising he was being completely serious she felt tears welling up in her eyes, her nerves turning into dreadful panic. She thought of Arat, trying to remind herself that she had done the right thing for her friend, that in her position Arat would have done the same for her.

"How do you figure that?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Clearing his throat Negan got to his feet, and as he rose he set aside Lucille onto the couch, drawing her attention to it. "You started today six hundred and eighty points in the hole," he began, flipping to a page in the ledger. "You're quite the spender."

"Terry's been sick," she said, realising he was waiting for her to speak. "He had an infection in his tooth."

"Terry should be earning his own fucking points like a man," Negan lectured disapprovingly.

"He has a bad heart," she said defensively, sticking up for him. "He gets tired quickly. It's why we came here in the first place."

"You know what, it's none of my damn business how you people spend and earn your points," Negan shrugged, changing tact. "Your keep your people in line, I rarely have to hear about you. But, now…"

He trailed off as he started drawing closer, and the darkening look on his face made Lana tense up. She held her breath as she waited for him to do something, feeling sick to her stomach with every step he took nearer.

"Do not mistake my calm for a lack of God damn fucking outrage," he said lowly, his mouth twisting into a snarl as he towered over her. "You just lobbed one hell of a turd in the punch bowl. I'm so fucking pissed not even Lucille can make me feel better."

Beginning to tremble again Lana looked away, unable to hold his gaze now that he had mentioned Lucille. He was so close to her, making her painfully aware of how much more powerful he was than her, that she had no means of defending herself if he decided to kill her. He had killed people for less, and her gender did not mean she would be treated any differently than others who wronged him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't fucking insult me. You're not sorry for what you did," he said heatedly. "You're sorry you got caught."

"Yes," she admitted softly, nodding her head.

"Well it's time to pay the consequences. Bad enough you help those poor folks clear out…but what am I going to find when my men check the inventory at the Mayfield warehouse?" There was a long pause, and then Negan took another step nearer and lowered his voice again. "That was not a rhetorical question. What are my men going to find?"

Terror almost rendered her speechless, and to her frustration she felt tears spilling from her eyes. Her cheeks reddened, humiliated that she was crying in front of Negan.

"What are my men going to find?"

"Th-things missing."

"What things?"

"I don't know," she managed to get out, her throat constricted as she tried to hold it together. "I don't know what they took."

"But you told them about it?"

"Yes."

"I'm willing to bet my left nut that you told them to just skim a little off the top. To make fucking sure I wouldn't notice I'd been robbed…is that what you told them?"

"Yes."

He let the moment hang for a moment, and then to her sheer relief he turned and walked away. The moment she got her personal space back she let out a shuddered breath, hastily wiping her cheeks dry when he wasn't looking. As silence lingered she collected herself, taking a deep breath with renewed determination to hold it together. She had made the choice to help Arat's family, and now it was time to pay for it…this day had always been coming, she hadn't been naive.

"It's a damn shame you went to all that effort to help those people," Negan said, his voice surprisingly gentle now. His body language too had changed, his shoulders relaxed as he went to a bar cart in the corner of the room and poured a glass of water. "Because they sure as shit didn't return the favour to you."

He was coming back now, surprising her by passing her the glass of water. Though she accepted it she looked at it suspiciously, unable to fathom why he had given it to her. At his prompting she took a sip, the cool water soothing her throat. He had only poured a little, and when she finished he relieved it from her and set it down onto the coffee table.

"I don't understand," she murmured, her voice feeling stronger now, more in control.

"They didn't return the favour," he repeated, picking up the ledger again. "I've already got the inventory check from the warehouse. Those people didn't skim a little off the top like you asked them to. They took everything they could get their fucking hands on."

"Oh," she said, not knowing what else to say.

"Let's assess the damage, shall we?" he said conversationally, taking a piece of paper out. "They took sixty two hand guns valued at twenty five points a piece. Fourteen rifles at fifty points each. Four machine guns at fifty points each. At least two thousand rounds of ammunition are missing, though I've done you a kindness by rounding down to the nearest thousand. They're five points per round. Three cars at two hundred and fifty points, plus gasoline, twenty points a gallon. Then there's assorted equipment at various costs. Batteries, knives, fishing rods, spare tyres, solar panels…shall I continue?"

Unable to speak, Lana shook her head. The feeling of dread was returning now, her lower lip beginning to quiver. She had explicitly told Natania to only take a little and to hide their presence there, and she had assured her they would…they all assured her. They had been grateful to her, assuring her that they didn't want to get her into trouble…and yet they did this.

"Do you want the running total?"

Again she shook her head, but he ignored her.

"You're nearing seventeen thousand points, and that's with the friends and family discount." When she gave no response to this he cleared his throat, waiting for her to look up at him. "Tell me where they are, and it all goes away."

 _God…it was tempting. It was so fucking tempting._ "I don't know."

"You'll never work off seventeen thousand points. Where are they?"

"I don't know," she repeated, having already prepared a lie for this. "They will have left by now. I took them to a shopping mall, but I told them not to stay."

"Seventeen thousand. What shopping mall?"

"If I tell you, you'll go looking for them, a-"

"You can bet your fucking ass I'll go looking for them."

"And when you don't find them you'll just accuse me of lying."

"You'll never work off seventeen thousand points," he impatiently lectured. "One way or another, you are going to make me square."

She nodded in agreement, and then she played the only card she had left. "I'll marry you."

It wasn't like she'd never considered this before. Marrying Negan had been an option on the table for a long time, but she had just hoped to never need to go that far. But if there was ever a time to do it, being seventeen thousand points in debt was it.

"No," Negan refused, taking her by surprise. She had expected an immediate acceptance, that he would be pleased. "You don't marry me because you've got no other way out. Becoming my wife is a choice you make, not something you're forced in to."

"I don't see the distinction," she said nonchalantly, taking a deep breath before confidently continuing. "I'll marry you."

There was a long pause now, and she could feel Negan staring at her. Despite his refusal she could tell he was interested in her proposition, that he had been disappointed when she had been the one to refuse him initially.

"I'd like that," Negan said softly, holding her gaze. "I'd like you to be my wife. But it has to be a choice."

"I've made a choice."

"You _haven't_ made a choice," he argued. "Because I haven't given you another option yet."

"Okay…what's my other option?

He considered this carefully, taking a few moments to mull it over.

"You know where they are, I know you do. You can have a car and three of my people. You'll find them and recover my losses, both my inventory and my work force. And while you're out there looking for my shit, I'll keep a close, close eye on your man, Vetor."

"How do you mean?"

"He can have the cell next to Arat. You'll have a week to find them before I put a bullet in his head. Quick and clean, because I like you…and hell, I respect you too."

She held Negan's gaze, considering the option he had presented her. "You don't need to hold him hostage."

"I do. Raises the stakes a little…funny how a little _holy shit someone's gonna die_ manages to light a fire under people's asses."

She said nothing to this. "So, I bring them back, or I marry you? Those are my options?"

"I think it's a fair choice, don't you? The task is not unrealistic or unachievable. I know you're more than a pretty face and smokin' hot body. You're capable of all kinds o' shit."

"I'll marry you," she stated, repeating her earlier assertion.

To her surprise Negan sighed, sounding disappointed as he walked away from her. "You'll think about it first. Twenty four hours."

"I'll marry you."

Behind her the door opened, and she turned around to see him standing there, gesturing for her to leave. "Think about it first."

All in all it was a reasonable option, particularly given what she had done. The other option he proposed was not a lofty, unachievable quest, but rather something she was capable of, making it so that marrying him wasn't something she did because she had no other option left. But she couldn't do what he had asked of her. Though they had gone back on their word and put her in this position she knew she couldn't do that to Arat and her. Her choice was clear, and somehow it suddenly didn't feel so terrible.

"I'll marry you," she repeated, looking him in the eye as she made her way over.

When she reached his side she quickly glanced out into the hall, hating that Vetor was still there, listening to everything. She hoped he would understand, that he would know she was doing this not just for herself, but for them. Becoming Negan's wife would give her power…not a lot, but enough to take care of her people the way they needed. Besides…Vetor had been the first one to suggest this course of action as a possibility. Surely he would understand.

Wanting to spare him the pain of seeing this she closed the door, steeling herself for a moment. Having made her decision she turned to Negan and moved a little closer, and when she leaned in there was no misunderstanding her intention. Nevertheless he seemed not to respond, his light brown eyes so often filled with malice now filled with both suspicion and desire. Needing to coax him just a little she tentatively reached up, touching his clean shaven jaw before closing her eyes and bringing her lips to his.

Despite his insistence that she think on it he kissed her back without hesitation, and at first he let her set the pace before taking over. What started as a chaste kiss began to deepen, his lips encouraging her to open her mouth for him. Later when she would look back on this moment she would swear she'd never been kissed quite like this, but to her relief the moment felt insignificant. There was no spark of desire stirring inside her, but nor was there dread or disgust. This was just something she needed to do to survive in this world, and it probably wouldn't be the worst thing she ever did.

When she felt his hand on her waist she abruptly pulled away, but not because she was upset. Sleeping with him had now become inevitable, it wasn't a marriage to Negan unless it was consummated, but now was not the time. Taking a step back she panted softly, looking up at him and trying not to appear flustered. He seemed not to mind that she had stopped, but rather looked down at her in satisfaction, secretly thrilled that she had finally accepted the offer he made months ago.

Before she could think to stop she reached up and touched her lips, dabbing at the saliva there. She could taste his mouth, glad to note that even in this world he had fresh smelling breath…that would be just one of the perks she would enjoy as his new wife. Toothpaste.

"Something wrong?" he asked lowly, his voice deep and gravelly. He was looking at her with a smug expression, but she tried to ignore that.

"You said I had twenty four hours," she answered, clearing her throat.

"You've got shit to straighten out?"

She nodded, conscious that Negan likely knew about her relationship with Vetor, tumultuous though it were. At this she glanced towards the door, wondering if he was out there with his ear pressed against it, trying to hear every word. He had been the first to suggest her marrying Negan, but she knew him well. Vetor wouldn't let her go without a fight…at least not completely anyway.

"Then you'd best straighten that shit out," he warned, walking away and returning to the living area. "I'm sure you've heard how I take infidelity. It's not your face I'd burning off. Make sure he knows that."

"I will," she assured him.

"Good," he said shortly, resuming his place on the couch and taking up the ledger again. He flicked through a few pages, twirling a pen in his fingers, but when he didn't hear her leaving he looked up. "I'll see you in twenty four hours for your final decision, Mrs Negan."

* * *

Monday, March 2nd

The journey that day had been taken mostly in silence, hours having passed with barely more than a passing comment spoken among any of the passengers. It wasn't that there was nothing for them to say, but rather that there was too much to say. None of them wanted to broach the deaths of Glenn and Abraham, nor what had happened to Carrie and Daryl…it was too soon…too difficult.

Riding in the back of the car Lana was bundled up with a blanket, trying to rest while she had the opportunity, for her task that day was not going to be easy. Sitting in the open trunk behind her was Rick, a silent traveller who despite his haste in coming to see her could barely look at her right now. She knew he didn't hold her responsible for what had happened to their people, that though she had made mistakes she tried to do the right thing…but there was no denying the correlation between her presence and Negan's heavy handed punishment.

In the front was Michonne and Jesus, and in the back beside her was Dianne whose presence that day necessitated a brief stop at the Kingdom. The five of them had set out together with a lofty goal in mind, taking a chance and praying that it paid off. From what she had learned the fight against Negan was still in its infancy stages, but what came of today could potentially change the whole trajectory…that is, if they weren't left with bitter disappointment.

Rick and Michonne had unexpectedly arrived at the Hilltop last night, bringing with them the much needed news that Carrie and Daryl were both alive, that they were getting by. Already Negan had made his first visit to take tribute from the Alexandrian's, and Lana could imagine how much he would have enjoyed bringing Carrie and Daryl along, how he would have flaunted them in front of Rick.

It was touching that Rick seemed so relieved to find her well, to learn that she was still alive. Everything they risked that night had been to save her life, to save her pregnancy too. Nevertheless, was it really worth all they had lost? She doubted that if he could go back in time to the day they left Alexandria that he would have taken so many people out on the road, that he was swap her for Glenn and Abraham without thinking twice.

Rick had asked her to stay at the Hilltop for the time being, to recover and focus only on herself, on the pregnancy, and she had considered it…really, she had. But she had already spent days talking herself into the next course of action, deciding on what it was she needed to do. If Rick, Dianne and Jesus were prepared to go to war against the Saviours they were going to need help, and there was only one other group out there that hated Negan as much as them. So breaking her promise to Arat that this secret would go with her to the grave she told Rick about the group at Oceanside, and in spite of everything she didn't feel bad about giving them up. Anything they had now was because of what she had done for them, and they had fucked her over in the process…they owed her this.

Despite some initial skepticism Rick had listened closely as she divulged her greatest secret, allowing her to recount the entire story of exactly how she had come to marry Negan. Very quickly he and the others were all in agreement as to the next step, not faltering even when she told them of Oceanside's firepower, that she had told them to treat all strangers as a threat. It was a huge risk for them to take, but one worthwhile…and so without allowing themselves to second guess themselves they set off early the next morning, departing the Hilltop before the sun even rose. Gregory hadn't noticed their arrival, and hadn't noticed their departure either, which was perhaps the best way for things to go.

"It's about a mile down the road," Lana spoke up, their vehicle having just passed where there used to be a sign on the side of the road. She was glad to see it gone, to note that someone had removed it since the last time she had been there.

At this everyone in the car seemed to rouse a little, sitting up straighter and checking their weapons. Feeling a little apprehensive about what they were doing Lana glanced into the back at Rick, glad to note that he seemed ready for this. When they reached the turn off a little further down the road Jesus slowed the car to a stop and killed the engine, and there was a few moments of quiet thought before they filed out of the car. Still feeling a little out of sorts from her surgery Lana was slower, her body feeling old and weary though she was still young. For a few moments she stood there and watched on as the others opened the trunk and began preparing for what was to come yet.

When Rick looked up and found her standing there uncertainly he waved her over, but just as quickly he averted his eyes. This was still hard on him, and being completely honest with herself Lana didn't mind that he couldn't look her in the eye…it meant she didn't have to look him in the eye either. Nevertheless they got on with things, Rick taking a folded shirt from his pack and passing it to her. Wondering what to do with it she waited, and when she watched Dianne putting on a Kevlar vest and strapping it up tightly she began to understand.

Holding the folded shirt against her lower belly she let Rick help her with the Kevlar, grateful that he was being gentle about it. Five days had passed since her appendectomy, but the surgical drain was still in place, and she was still receiving intravenous antibiotics once daily. Her appendix hadn't ruptured the surgery, but it hadn't been as straight forward as it should have been, Doctor Carson having not performed one in many years. He'd been reluctant to allow her to leave the Hilltop, and after three hours of travelling she could see why. Despite doing nothing but sitting in the back passenger seat she was exhausted, ready to simply lay her head down and rest.

"How's that?" Rick asked, securing the straps of the vest around her waist. "Too tight?

With the folded shirt acting as padding over her wound and drain, Lana paused for a moment to test the comfort. The vest was bulkier and heavier than she expected, but the straps around her waist were slack enough to keep her comfortable.

"It's good. Thanks."

When he turned away to put his own vest on she caught sight of what he had hidden in the back of his jeans, the small pistol he had hoped to conceal from her. When he noticed the source of her attention he pulled the tail of his shirt a little looser, concealing the weapon even more.

"I won't take it out unless I have to," he assured her, securing the straps of his vest before slipping his brown coat on over.

"You shouldn't take it at all," she replied softly, repeating what she had already told him. "They'll see it as a threat."

"From what you tell me, they'll see everything as a threat. I'm taking my life in my hands simply by walking down the road."

"Yes," she admitted. Their mere presence in the vicinity of Oceanside Motor Cabin Court was one hell of a risk. She had been the one to tell Natania to exercise all precautions by shooting strangers on site, to not let the Saviours get close to them again. Their only chance that day was her and the hope they would recognise her before they attacked.

"We're all ready?" Dianne asked the group at large, handing her rifle over to Michonne.

"Ready," Michonne confirmed, taking a seat on the hood of the car while Jesus deftly climbed up to the roof, the two of them keeping watch of all directions.

"Hold your position until you hear from us."

"And if we don't hear from you?" Jesus challenged, already knowing the answer and not liking it.

"You know what to do," Rick said sternly, placing his hand behind Lana's shoulder and ushering her to start towards the road.

Without any further preamble Lana, Rick and Dianne set off with one another, strategically walking in a tight single file. She was the one leading the way, the only one among the three of them that the Oceanside would recognise, while Dianne would be bringing up the rear. Walking between them was Rick, his gender alone placing him at the greatest risk of being attacked, the most likely one that the Oceansiders would take on first. With the exception of his pistol they had taken only their knives and machetes, and they walked slowly with their hands raised by their sides. They were trying to make their approach a non-threatening one, hoping that their presence would be met with curiosity rather than fear.

* * *

A/N Hey guys, I hope you like my twist on the storyline. When it came to plotting things out I felt Dwight's character had been sufficiently covered, and rather then rehashing him I decided to shake things up and give the a Saviour focused role to someone else.

I questioned the fact that Negan took Daryl with the intention of turning him, but there was no mention of him having done the same thing with someone from Oceanside or Hilltop? The TV show never delved into Arat, so I gave her the connection to both Lana and the Oceanside to be one of the first hostages Negan took and turned into a soldier.

Another chapter to come in the next few days - until then please do leave a review!


	51. Chapter 51

"Hold your position until you hear from us."

"And if we don't hear from you?" Jesus challenged, already knowing the answer and not liking it.

"You know what to do," Rick said sternly, placing his hand behind Lana's shoulder and ushering her to start towards the road.

Without any further preamble Lana, Rick and Dianne set off with one another, strategically walking in a tight single file. She was the one leading the way, the only one among the three of them that the Oceanside would recognise, while Dianne would be bringing up the rear. Walking between them was Rick, his gender alone placing him at the greatest risk of being attacked, the most likely one that the Oceansiders would take on first. With the exception of his pistol they had taken only their knives and machetes, and they walked slowly with their hands raised by their sides. They were trying to make their approach a non-threatening one, hoping that their presence would be met with curiosity rather than fear.

They had walked a few minutes before the silence started to bother her, and so she took advantage of the fact that Rick couldn't see her face. "How's Maggie doing?"

The question was met with long silence, and she wasn't expecting him to answer at all when he finally did. "She's coping."

"And you?" she asked next, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder. She didn't want him to see her face right now, and nor did she want to see his. It would be too much for her. She wasn't strong enough to carry his grief too.

"Glad to be doing something," he murmured after another pause. "Thank you for this."

"Don't thank me yet," she said, turning her attention back to what was in front of her. "We could all be dead in ten minutes."

Breaking rank for just a moment, Dianne darted forward to take on a Walker on the road, one whose clothes were waterlogged and flesh slipping down it's face. They were close enough to the ocean that she was certain she could hear the waves crashing, that she could smell and taste the salt in the air. In spite of what they were there for it felt good to be back, for she had loved this place the first time her group had stayed her well over a year ago. It had reminded her of the camping trips her family had taken when she was younger, for though she had complained incessantly about them these days she treasured the memories.

"This is going to work," Dianne stated, firmly believing this. She wiped her knife on the Walker's clothing. "We're not exactly giving them much of a choice."

Conscious of just how true that was, Lana rehearsed her arguments inside her head, reminding herself that Oceanside were the ones indebted right now. She had been the one to tell them about this place, but more importantly she told them where they could steal weapons from the Saviours. That had been what set them up for survival, equipping them to defend themselves from both the dead and the living. But they had assured her they would only take a little, that they would hide the fact they had stolen from the Saviours, and then they screwed her over. It was because of them that she ended up in so much debt. Being caught for helping them was one thing, but being held responsible for what they stole made her situation so much worse.

Without warning Lana's worst fear for the day came true, the sound of a nearby gunshot making her lurch in fright. It felt like a shockwave went through her body, the sheer horror of them being fired upon almost rendering her frozen in panic. Behind her Rick yelled out in pain, bumping into her as she whirled around to see him. His face was a twisted grimace as he sank to his knees, Dianne already lunging at him to offer what protection she could.

"Don't shoot!" Lana cried out, looking around and raising her hands into the air. "Don't shoot!"

She looked at Rick in terror, feeling her heart in her throat as she looked for blood, and the sight of him moving was a small relief. _Please not Rick…not Carrie's husband._

"I'm okay," he was panting, though he didn't try to get up. "…caught it…"

"Don't shoot!" she yelled again, wanting them to hear her from any distance. Trying to gauge from which direction he had been shot she slowly backed up towards him and Dianne, trying to block the shooter's line of sight. "It's me! It's Lana!"

There was a commotion in the trees nearby, but when she saw figures rising with guns pointed their way she was relieved. She didn't have the strength to take on Walkers hand to hand right now, but what she could do was talk. Though she'd met them only once she thought she recognised a few of the faces that appeared on both sides of the road, and with this hope she repeated her name again.

"Hands in the air!" someone shouted at them, a woman with closely cropped dark hair advancing on them. "Hands in the air and get on your knees!"

"We're not armed."

"On your knees!" someone else shouted.

Recognising the voice Lana whirled around with her hands in the air, watching as Cyndie advanced on Rick and Dianne. They were settling onto their knees, Rick panting as he looked up at the armed women surrounding them all, and though he looked pissed as hell that they had shot him he said nothing, instead leaving it to Lana to handle. He clutched at his shoulder, hunched over as he continued trying to catch his breath.

"Cyndie," she said urgently. "Cyndie, it's me. Lana."

Cyndie looked around at her strangely, blinking in disbelief. "Lana? From the _Sanctuary_?"

"Yes, but I-"

"Get on your knees," she growled, turning the gun to her now.

"I'm not with them anymore," she said urgently. As she spoke she slowly lowered herself to her knees, flinching in discomfort when the motion made her wound twinge. "I'm not a Saviour anymore."

"Sure you're not."

"I'm not," she repeated, looking Cyndie in the eye. "I think you know it's the truth…otherwise, why haven't you shot me?"

"Don't tempt us," Beatrice warned, coming up behind her. "Don't fucking move."

While the others separated Rick and Dianne from one another, Beatrice grabbed her arms and pulled them down, roughly yanking off her coat. "Beatrice, don't hurt me," she said quickly, hunching forward a little. "I'm pregnant, and I've just surgery."

Ignoring her, Beatrice tossed her coat aside and then tugged on the straps of the kevlar vest. In an instant it was gone, the folded shirt that had served as padding over her stomach falling to the ground. Elsewhere the Oceansiders were doing the same to Rick and Dianne, ridding them of their jackets before removing their kevlar vests. When his was removed Lana scoured his body for any signs of blood, relieved to see a only a small tear in the back of his shirt. Judging by the slackening of his right shoulder as he held his hands in the air, that was where he had been shot.

"Don't try anything," Beatrice warned, coming around in front of her know. "What's this surgery you had?"

"My appendix."

Though her glare was on of great skepticism, Beatrice crouched down and lifted Lana's shirt, her features softening when she saw the surgical dressing.

"Bullshit," someone else commented. "She could be hiding anything under that."

"Please don't open it," she said, recoiling when she saw Beatrice reaching for the edge. "Your hands are filthy."

She looked at her incredulously, glancing at the others before backing up a little and raising her gun again. "You open it then. I want to see."

Reluctant to do so, Lana reached down with one hand and picked at the edge of the dressing, catching it enough to slowly peel back the adhesive edges. She inspected the week old wound, pleased to see that the new pad was damp with old blood and fluid. Just as it had been all week the drain Carson inserted was working well, helping to clear her abdomen of the mess he had made inside of her.

"Oh, gross," Beatrice said in revulsion, pulling a face as she moved back even more.

"I told you."

"Is tha…is that a straw and a safety pin?"

"It's not a straw, but it is a safety pin," she said, gently putting the dressing back in place and smoothing it down.

While her hand was there she gestured to the pocket of her sweatpants, indicating what she was doing before reaching in. Cyndie flexed her grip on the rifle she held, reminding her of its presence. Without a word she took out her most prized possession, the ultrasound of the baby. By now every man, woman and child at the Hilltop had been forced to look at her ultrasound, Lana proudly showing it to everyone but Gregory, the leader so rarely seen outside of Barrington House. Just like everyone else Beatrice looked at the ultrasound in wonder, awed not only that she was pregnant, but that she had the means of seeking an ultrasound.

"Congratulations," Cyndie said softly, looking her up and down.

"Thanks," was her reply. She wouldn't tire of hearing that word, something that no one had dared say to her given her initial intentions towards the pregnancy. Now though everyone was saying it to her, even someone holding a gun in her face.

"You remember me, right?"

There was a long pause now, Beatrice and Cyndie considering her at great length before responding. "Of course we remember you," Beatrice replied. She reached down to pass the photograph back, but she was keeping her distance. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help."

Beatrice shook her head. "That's not gonna happen."

"At least hear me out, please."

"No," came another voice, this one louder and more authoritative.

Knowing who it was, Lana looked back to see Natania striding down the road, flanked by two more woman bringing their total captors to at least a dozen. She had aged since the last time Lana saw her, grief had a way of doing that, but she was still as powerful and intimidating as she had been the first day she had met her. Her greying hair and lined face was not to be mistaken for grandmotherly kindness.

"Why are they still alive?" she questioned, pointing to Rick in particular.

"Grandma," Cyndie implored stepping back from Lana to reveal her. "It's Lana. She-"

"I know who she is," she said unkindly, looking down at her. "I don't care."

"But Gran-"

"You said we would never see you again," Natania berated her, looking down at her in disgust. "That you or your scum would never darken our doorstep."

"I'm not with the Saviours anymore."

"I don't care who you're with. You're not welcome here." She looked around at the woman expectantly. "Shoot them all."

There was a flurry of discontent from among their captors, and then Rick spoke up for the first time. "That would be a mistake. Natania, isn't it?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'm Rick Grimes," he answered. "I'm the leader of a community like yours. The Saviours came for us too."

"I'm Dianne," Dianne introduced herself next. "I'm from another community the Saviours have under their control. We have a representative from a third group too, he's waiting out on the highway. You're not alone in this."

Though she listened to their introductions, Natania was unmoved. "Your problems are not my own."

"Killing us will be a mistake," Rick repeated, looking around at all of them. "If all five of my people don't make it home tonight, more of my people will come for you."

Though his threat was made gently, it's magnitude was clear. As could be expected it rubbed Natania up the wrong way, compelling her to repeat her former instruction that they all be killed, but to Lana's relief no one moved. There was silence from every Oceansider, their fingers poised on the triggers but not yet willing to go all the way.

"I said to shoot them," Natania shouted, drawing her own gun.

"Grandma, no," Cyndie pressed, darting between her and Rick. "I think we should hear them out."

"Cyndie, yo-"

"If more of them know where we are, we can't kill them. We can't."

"She's right," Beatrice spoke up, a few others murmuring in agreement.

"At least hear me out," Lana requested. "You owe me that much at least."

"We owe you nothing," Natania snarled, not even softening when Cyndie put her hand on top of her gun and forced her to lower it.

Ready to take a risk, Lana pocketed the ultrasound photo and then slowly pushed herself up to her feet, ready to advocate for her people. For so long people like Rick had advocated for her, supported her and risked everything…now it was time for her to return the favour.

"You do owe me, Natania. When I helped you escape Negan you were no one to me, but I helped you, and then you fucked me over! I told you to take just a little, but you took everything you could. Negan blamed me for what you stole, I had to marry him just to break even, so don't say you owe me nothing."

"We didn't ask for your help," Natania countered, staring her down.

"But you took it."

"And Arat? Where was my granddaughter-in-law, hmm?" she questioned. "Why didn't she help us?"

"You know she couldn't. She couldn't leave the Sanctuary, and even when she could, she couldn't face you. Not after what happened to Quincey."

"You mean after she killed my son?"

"Negan killed your son," Lana said firmly. "Not Arat. It's not her fault he made her chose someone."

Natania looked down at her in disdain, her features not softening even once. Nevertheless Lana didn't stop trying, suspecting that it wasn't necessarily Natania who she had to convince.

"When I left the Sanctuary, Rick's group took me in. They gave me a home, and he asked for nothing in return. Even when he found out who I was, he let me stay," she emphasised, glancing at him as she spoke. "He didn't turn me away, didn't even consider it. Then when I got sick, his people risked everything to help me."

"A lovely story," Natania said quietly, but she hadn't softened. "But a story of no interest to me."

"Negan killed two of our people the way he killed your son. He beat them to death right in front of us, and he laughed. He's taken my baby's father, he's trying to turn him like he turned Arat…and he's taken Rick's wife too. She's about to have a baby. Any day now, she's going to have a baby."

It was the latter comments that sent of flurry through the Oceansiders, and Lana watched as their faces fell, horrified and outraged by what she had told them. A few of them starting talking with one another under their breaths, glancing at Natania and awaiting her response, but it was clear the leader was not convinced.

"Grandma," Cyndie murmured. "We shoul-"

"No," Natania declared loudly, her features hard and cruel as she looked around at her group, her family. "You shouldn't have come here. You knew what we would do to you."

"We should talk to them."

"Please, Natania. Hear us out," Lana pleaded. "You don't want to live in fear anymore, and neither do we. We can help each other."

"We are not good," Natania said boldly, her eyes narrowed as she moved towards her. "And we are not brave. You are…and that's why you're in this mess."

"Grandma, no," Cyndie implored, stepping in front of her when she raised her gun again. "This is not your decision. It's everyone's."

Natania looked at her in outrage, her eyes widening. "You've forgotten," she accused, sounding hurt. She looked past Cyndie, ignoring the intruders and looking only to her own people. "Some of you actually want to fight them? After everything?"

"I haven't forgotten," Cyndie insisted, pushing her gun out of the way before turning back to the others. "But we should hear them out. For Arat's sake at least."

A heavy silence fell, everyone present holding their breath and waiting to see what would happen next. Did Natania even hold any sympathies for her former group member? Lana turned to Rick, feeling tentatively confident with how this was playing out. She had known all along that while Natania was the group's leader, it wasn't her that they had to convince. The silence came from the hesitation of the others, hesitation to speak in defiance of their leader, hesitation to risk everything the life they had managed to piece back together.

Without warning the women lowered their guns and advanced on them, having made their decision without need for further debate. But Lana's heart leapt into her throat when they converged on Rick and Dianne, their faces set in determination.

"Please…wait!"

Kneeling with their hands in the air neither Rick nor Dianne had means of defending themselves, but they didn't even try. While one person came up behind them and seized both of their hands another also approached, wielding the butt of a rifle. With a swift thrust they hit each of them hard over the head, Lana crying out _no!_ when they both slumped over to the ground. Behind her she could hear Natania yelling at them, ordering the intruders to be killed, but the group wasn't listening to her anymore.

With Beatrice still holding her at gunpoint there was nothing Lana could do but watch on, helpless to do anything. On the ground Dianne was unconscious already while Rick was clumsily trying to push himself back up, his body weak and his head hanging pitifully. He was saying something, faltering when he tried to clutch the side of his head, but with another cruel blow he slumped back onto the road unconscious.

"Beatrice, don't hurt us," she implored, lowering her hands and bringing them in front of her body, needing to protect herself. Her baby had somehow managed to survive her serious illness…how much more could it take?

"Do as you're told, and we won't have to."

In complete defiance of Natania whose aggrieved protests were going unheard, the women were picking Rick and Dianne up by their hands and feet. With a few grunts of complaint they lifted their limp bodies from the ground and began carrying them down the road, though they at least made the effort to ensure their limp heads didn't scrape along the road. As she watched them be carted away Lana cooperated fully, even when Cyndie roughly bound her hands with a short length of rope, but when she tugged her to start walking in the opposite direction she faltered.

"Wait," she implored, looking over her shoulder at Rick and Dianne. "Where are you taking them?

"They'll be fine."

"Where are you taking _me_?

Still looking over her shoulder, she watched on pity as Natania was left with no choice but to go along with things, her authority flouted by the people she loved unconditionally.

"How many more are out there?" Cyndie demanded, holding her around the upper arm as they walked back the way they had come. "On the highway."

"Two," she answered, and she apprehensively turned her attention to the others escorting them. She didn't recall who they were, but their names were the least of her concern now. Her escort was a total of six, each of them carrying a rifle and fully prepared to defend their home, regardless of their apparent willingness to hear them out. "They won't do anything. They'll stand down."

"Yeah, they will," Beatrice said roughly, backing up a few paces and then pointing her rifle at her. "I mean, if they like you they will."

* * *

Their first meeting with Oceanside had gone about as well as they could expect it to given the circumstances. Although they had shot him in the shoulder and knocked him out, at the very least they were all alive…or so Rick suspected. He had come around just as they dumped him on the dusty carpet of this room, his eyes fluttering open to see them cuffing both hands to the frame of a bunk bed. His head still fuzzy he made no protest when someone roughly patted him down for other weapons, taking the knife from his back pocket and then pulling off his duty belt. Finishing up they removed each of his boots and gave them a hearty shake, but when they found nothing inside them they tossed them onto the bed.

Satisfied he posed no threat in his current restraints they let him be, closing the door and locking him inside without so much as a word. He allowed himself a few minutes to lay on the floor and come around, his head pounding and shoulder aching from where his kevlar had caught a bullet for him. Grateful to be alive he gingerly pulled himself up and then sat on the lower bunk, head bowed until he found the motivation to look up and learn about his surroundings. The room was empty but for the bunk bed pushed into the corner, at the foot of which was a wall mounted table and stool, the cheap wooden vinyl indicating it dated back to at least the eighties. Aside from the mattress the room was unfurnished and without interest, and outside the window he could see only trees. Cob webs lined the interior corners and the window outside, a large black spider perched in its web.

To be expected he had a splitting headache, already feeling a lump forming above his right brow. Wishing for an ice pack he settled himself in for a long wait, keeping eyes and ears alert for anything even as his head was cradled in his hands. Yesterday when he went to the Hilltop to see Lana he hadn't expected the news she had given him, nor that he would find himself setting off in search of a fourth community, one who were in her debt. How naive he had been the day he arrived in Alexandria over a year ago. Back then they felt so isolated, like they were the only living souls left on the earth. But they were not alone, and just like always the world proved to be larger and stronger than expected. Humanity lived on, even if he couldn't see it himself.

A loud bang on the window made him jump in surprise, and he looked up to see the sole of a boot pressed against the exterior of the glass. Beneath it the black spider was squashed, the legs twitching as the person holding the shoe gave it a turn for good measure, and then his stomach turned in revulsion. He thought of that night almost a week ago, the way he could see Glenn's hand twitching even after he was surely dead.

Trying to push that thought out of his mind he looked back up in time to see the boot disappear, noticing at the last minute that it's size was quite small. Curious as to who was out there he waited patiently, rewarded when the small face of a young girl appeared in the window. Surely no older than early teens a young girl with a mass of light brown curls peered inside at him, but her eyes were not filled with childhood curiosity, and were instead cold and calculating. She stared at him, her upper lip having curled in obvious distaste for what she saw. Despite her sour expression her round cheeks betrayed her youth, and he realised she wasn't as old as he first thought, perhaps no more than eleven years old.

Taking a chance, Rick waved one of his hands in a small wave, fully expecting her expression to soften. But she seemed to look at him in disdain, the kind of look Carl would give him when he felt he was being unfairly reprimanded. A moment later she too raised her hand to him, and he was astonished to see her sticking her middle finger up at him. He quirked an eyebrow in disbelief…did that kid really just flip him the bird?

Behind him the door began to open, both he and the girl outside turning their attention to whoever was coming inside. It was Cyndie, the girl who called Natania _Grandma_ , and she was carrying a plate of toast and mug in her hands. But the moment she looked up and saw the girl outside the window her face twisted into bewildered outrage.

"Rachel!" she shouted angrily. "What th-"

As the girl outside fled Cyndie was quick to give chase, not sparing Rick a second glance as she hastily put down the plate and mug before rushing out. As she left she slammed the door shut and turned a lock, not that he could have gone anywhere in his current position. The girl had reappeared outside the window, clearly playing games with Cyndie. She smirked at him again before raising her middle finger a second time, apparently caring very little when Cyndie caught up with her. With nothing else to do and unable to reach the food that had been brought in, Rick listened to what he could hear of the conversation outside the window.

"What did he say to you?"

Rachel just looked at her in exasperation, not caring that she was in trouble. "Nothing."

"W-well what did you say to him?"

"Nothing," she emphasised, rolling her eyes as she looked back inside at him. "I flipped him the bird."

"You…you what?" Cyndie asked, stepping between her and the window.

"You heard me. I flipped him the bird."

For a moment Cyndie seemed to just stand there, shaking her head. "Just go, Rachel."

"I'm not afraid of him."

"Go," she repeated, raising her voice a little.

A long moment passed while Cyndie stood there outside the window, perhaps at the end of her tether where Rachel was concerned. Trying to get on with things she quickly departed and then came back into the cabin, Rick listening as her footsteps approached. The lock turned and then she was back, tentatively looking inside at him.

"Sorry about her," she muttered, crouching down and picking up the toast from the floor. She brushed it off and returned it to the plate, and she gave him a stern warning as she approached. Setting the plate and mug onto the window sill she quickly backed away, wanting to be clear of him should he try anything.

"I hope this isn't going to be my last meal?"

"It's not," Cyndie murmured, taking the stool from the built in table and bringing it a little closer. Still giving herself plenty of room away from him she sat down and looked at him, restlessly placing her hands on her knees. "Hungry, huh?"

Having not wasted a moment Rick had taken a bite from the toast, not caring that it was cold or that it had been on the dusty old floor. They had left the Hilltop in the middle of the night, and while they had made a stop at the Kingdom to get Dianne they hadn't stopped for breakfast. Though they'd done little to warrant it he was confident the food was safe for him to eat, a conclusion supported by two white pills on the edge of the plate, Tylenol. They wouldn't spare pain relief medication to someone they were going to kill. Though it was awkward with his hands looped around the frame of the bunk bed he picked up the mug and looked at the liquid, disappointed to see that it was tea rather than coffee.

"Are my people okay?" he asked, taking a sip of the tea which was at least hot. "Dianne. Lana?"

"Yes."

"And the ones who were waiting out on the road?"

"They're fine too"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and though his instincts trusted her he tested her anyway. "In which case, you won't have any trouble telling me their names."

"Michelle and Jesus."

"Michonne," he corrected, though politely. There was silence now, Rick satisfied with Cyndie's answers.

Cyndie allowed him to eat without interruption, but as he neared the last bite of toast she reached into her pocket. "Your kids?"

He looked up, annoyed to see a photograph of Carl and Judith. It was the one he carried in the pouch of his duty belt, one from her first birthday, and there were others too. "Yes."

Returning the photograph to the small stack she shuffled through two more of his children before reaching another, and she showed him one taken of he and Carrie the day they got married. "Your wife?"

"Yes."

She turned to the final picture. "And who's she?"

He had known this one was coming, of course she would ask about it, but he made him want to grind his teeth to see a stranger holding the photograph of himself, Carl and Lori. It was treasured to him, something he carried on his person at all times so that if the worst happened Judith would always have a picture of her mother. In other moments he would admit only to himself that the photograph of Lori was for his benefit too, that sometimes he felt guilt stricken for the happy life he was leading with his new wife.

"She's my children's mother. She died almost two years ago."

Though he was sure she sympathised, Cyndie showed no sign of it. Instead she simply shuffled back to the picture of he and Carrie, peering down at it in interest. "Lana said Negan's got her," she questioned, gesturing to the picture. "That she's pregnant."

"She'll give birth any day now."

Cyndie nodded, looking at the pictures a moment longer before raising her eyes to his. "What's your plan to help her?"

"There's not a great deal I can do," he admitted, the words difficult to say out loud. "I have to wait, earn Negan's trust. Hope he gives her back."

"What about the baby?" she pressed, trying to get a deeper answer out of him. "It's coming any day now."

"I'll probably miss it," he murmured, having begun entertaining this possibility. He wasn't holding out hope that Negan would let him be there with Carrie, that he could support her through labour and be there the moment their child was born. "Like I said. I have to wait until he gives her back."

"And the other guy he's got?"

"Daryl."

"What are you going to do about him?"

It was this question that Rick had no answer to. "I want him back too," he said, this not really being an answer. He knew by now the reality of what Daryl faced, that if it came down to it he was willing to wage attack against the Sanctuary even if Daryl was still there, even if it meant risking his life. He knew that Daryl wouldn't want him to wait, not if the right opportunity arose. Once Carrie and the baby were safe, Daryl would want him to do whatever it took to bring down Negan.

"And then?" Cyndie pressed. "How are you going to take them down?"

So that's what she had been leading too. "You want to know how I'm going to do it?"

"You've asked for my group's help, to go to war with you. I think that gives me the right to ask some difficult questions."

"It does," he agreed, taking another sip of the hot tea before explaining the plan which was still in infancy. "There will be three communities going up against him, four with Oceanside. Even then we haven't got the numbers to match them…but we have a strategy. We need your help so that we can hit them all at once, one clean kill. And right now, we haven't got enough people power."

"You just said you don't have the numbers."

"We don't need to match them man for man, but we'll be spread thin trying to take down every outpost at once. We want at least five groups of people at once, six would be better. We're going to need this place too, Oceanside."

"What for?" she questioned darkly.

"We need somewhere to evacuate the people who are most vulnerable. Babies and children, the elderly. Right now there's certain territory that the Saviours don't enter, and those people are safe there, but it won't be like that for long. Once we put up a fight, all bets are off for that territory. We need somewhere safe for people to go."

Though she had listened, now Cyndie shook her head and leant back. Crossing her arms across her chest she was closing him out, cutting her body language off from him. "Your people, maybe," she conceded. "But I'm not sure we're willing to get involved any more than that."

Though his restraints made it difficult, Rick leant towards her a little, holding eye contact. "Cyndie, this is your war too. This is _your_ freedom you'd be fighting for."

She shook her head again. "My grandmother doesn't see it that way."

He raised his eyebrows, feigning disbelief. "I didn't think she'd have a problem with fighting. Lana told me you've fought back before."

"Yes, and it cost us everything," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Twelve of us died in the fight itself, and then thirty were executed. Lined up, shot in the face one after the other. Children."

"I know what they did to you."

"No you don't," she argued. "We used to be a big group, over ninety of us before they came along. We were happy, we were living our lives. We weren't hurting anyone."

"Neither was I," he emphasised, begging her to hear him. "Neither were my people, and now three of us are dead and two more are being held hostage, including my unborn baby. I am fighting for their freedom, and I'm asking you to fight for yours too."

Cyndie stared at him, unconvinced. "Look around. We have our freedom."

"I don't see that, I don't see freedom at all. All I see is you living in fear."

"At least we're _living_."

"But for how long?" he countered. "Even without the Saviours, how long have you really got here? What are your plans for the future?"

"What do you mean?"

"Mortality rates these days are pretty damn high, and I couldn't help but noticing you've got one hell of a gender imbalance."

Angered now, it was Cyndie who leant towards him, trying to make herself perfectly clear. "We don't need men."

"For some things, you do. What about the young boys here?"

"What about them?"

"They can't be far from puberty. Then what? Will you expect them to be a stud to every woman here?"

Blinking at him for a moment Cyndie's features twisted into revulsion. "That's disgusting," she spat, getting to her feet in outrage. "You're sick."

"Then what's your plan for longevity? Two males to keep this community going into new generations? Or are you just going to let yourselves die out one day?"

"We're alive now."

Rick refused to accept this. "The children here deserve a future. They're going to want to have a family one day. They'll want to leave this place and live freely in the world. By refusing to fight, you are denying them a world that is theirs by right."

Cyndie's hands were clenched into fists, her eyes narrowed in anger, but for the first time she had nothing to say, no argument to throw back. Silence fell between them, and seeing that she was deep in thought Rick didn't rush to break it.

"I would fight with you," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "So would others…but we're not the ones you have to convince."

"Then let me talk to your grandmother."

Cyndie shook her head. "She's already decided. You people are going home."

"I just want to talk to her."

Cyndie turned on her heel and left, slamming the door behind herself. He listened as she turned the key in the lock to secure him inside, hearing the sound of her heavy footsteps walking away. Wishing that had gone better he took one more sip of the tea and then set it aside. Getting to his feet he fumbled around in the waistband of his jeans, trying to find the right spot. Sewn into a fold of fabric on the inner waistband was a tiny metal key, the spare to the handcuffs that were currently secured around his waist. Wishing he had put a longer piece of string on the key itself he awkwardly fumbled to bring it to the cuff and slip it into the lock, the precaution of keeping a spare key at hand having paid off. Merle Dixon knew all too well how easy it was to drop these damn things, and his was not a situation Rick wanted to ever find himself in.

Freeing himself he stowed the cuffs in his pockets, while the key was carefully slipped back into the small fold of fabric inside his waistband. Free of the bunk bed he gently rolled his right shoulder back, cringing at the discomfort in his shoulder blade and wondering if he might have suffered a small fracture. His coat had been tossed over the end of the bed, and he looked at the new hole in the back before slipping it on and getting out of that room.

Though his actions made him liable to get shot again, for some reason he trusted these people, confident that there were enough of them who wanted to hear him out. Pleased that Rachel had taken care of the spider outside the window he slowly lifted the pane, and though it took a little convincing he managed to raise it enough. Having checked no one was around he deftly slipped through, mewling in discomfort as his shoulder protested. Closing the window on the other side he dusted off the cobwebs he had attained on the way out and then looked around, seeing only dense trees all around.

With every intention of taking a good look around the place he set off, taking care of where and how he walked to as to not draw attention to himself. But no sooner then he turned around did he come face to face with that damn kid again, Rachel. She appeared from around the corner and stood in his way, giving him a smug stare that clearly indicated she was proud to catch him trying to escape. Christ, this was the last thing he needed right now.

"Don't scream," he said apprehensively, raising one hand in front of himself.

Rachel glared at him defiantly, and he saw her chest rise as she took a deep breath. She let out a blood curdling scream, proudly holding his gaze as she ruined any chance he had of taking a look around the place. Faced with no other choice he preemptively lowered himself to his knees and raised his hands to his head, looking forward to any opportunity to put this brat back in her place.

* * *

Not to anyone's surprise, the Oceansiders hadn't taken well to his blatant escape. He now sat in Natania's living room, hands bound behind his back with no idea where the rest of his group were, but he had an audience with her. She was prowling back and forth across the room, pacing restlessly as she and Cyndie debated what to do with him. Just as Cyndie had warned, it was Oceanside's leader putting up the most resistance to what he had asked them to do, it was Natania who didn't want to fight.

"We can't change what's already happened," he spoke up, glad when she seemed to be listening. "The Saviours slaughtered your people, they took your son from you, they took Arat, we can't change that. Let's talk about the things we can change."

She shook her head, having none of it. "We want to be left alone," she emphasised, making a point of flexing her grip around her gun, an impressive AMT Automag.

"We want you to fight, and not just for us. Fight for yourselves."

"We tried that," she insisted, her face twisted into a pained scowl. "We lost too much. We're not going to lose anymore."

"And what about your people here?" he challenged her, not at all concerned when she tried to head for the door. "You're their leader."

"And I'm keeping them alive!" she shouted, her volume making Cyndie startle. "You should have all been shot on sight."

"You're their leader," he repeated. "It's gotta be about more than keeping them alive," he implored. "You have to provide these children a future."

"They have a future."

"And is this all there is for them? This camping ground? Is this all they'll ever have?"

"It's not your concern."

"What about when the Saviours find you here?" he asked next, challenging her. "What's that going to be like knowing you could have stopped them?"

"That's never going to happen."

"It could," he implored. "Everyday communities like mine are making them stronger and ourselves weaker. They're going to keep looking for more groups. What's to stop them coming south and finding you again?"

"You're fools if you think you can take them on!" she shouted at him, so enraged she was practically foaming at the mouth. "All of you, fools! We tried to take them on too, we thought we stood a chance, but we didn't."

"You tried to fight them alone, but that's not happening this time. We've got three communities already, and we need to do this right. We need you Natania…we need this group."

"And your children, hmm?" she questioned. She marched over to her table and seized the pictures Cyndie had taken from his duty belt, brandishing them at him. "Your son looks like a fine young man. Are you prepared to see him die?"

"No. That's why I'm fighting for him."

"You'll put his life at stake? The lives of all your children?"

For a moment he considered holding his tongue, conscious that Natania's son had been the first casualty of Negan, but if there was ever a time to argue it was now. "My youngest hasn't even taken their first breath, and their life is already at stake," he said lowly. "I know what I have to lose…it's why I'm fighting."

Natania shook her head, tossing the photographs at him. "You're a foolish man. Take what you have left, and run."

"I can't do that."

"Then I hope you don't have to see your child beaten to death," she spat. "But maybe that's what it takes for people like you and I to see sense."

Having said all there was Natania left, but not before sending a withering glare in her granddaughter's direction. When she departed she slammed the cabin door so hard the windows shook, leaving Rick and Cyndie in a painfully uncomfortable silence. For a long few moments he sat there looking at the back of the door, wondering what he could salvage from the situation. He glanced at Cyndie, the young woman standing against the wall with her arms folded and eyes focused on the fraying carpet. After he had been recaptured and escorted into Natania's cabin she had taken her place against the wall and remained there, saying not a single word when Natania berated her for allowing him to escape. But now that it was just the two of them again he wondered if he could push things a little, hoping that there was something she could do.

"Cyndie?"

At first she ignored him, not responding even when he called her name a second time. Another minute passed in silence, and then she seemed to come to some kind of resolution, perhaps having made her decision. She cleared her throat and looked up, and even from across the room he could see that her eyes had been brimming with tears. Though he knew very little of this community, Natania's late son must be Cyndie's father. He wondered if Cyndie had been there the day he died, if she had watched her father die at the hands of Negan.

"It's a no from us," Cyndie murmured quietly, clearing her throat again before heading for the door.

Not even ten minutes later Rick found himself reunited with the others, glad to note that aside from a sizeable bruise on Dianne's forehead, everyone was unharmed. They too bound with cable ties, Dianne, Lana, Michonne and Jesus were waiting for him outside Natania's cabin, while around them a dozen or so Oceansiders stood guard. It was a peculiar site to behold, particularly with the background spectators who were nervously watching from afar, curious as to the strangers. Among them was Rachel, the young girl perched high in a tree so that she could see what happened, but unlike before she made no effort to interact with him when he stepped outside.

"Time to go," the woman named Kathy declared, ushering the others to their feet. Over her shoulder she carried Michonne's katana, but gave no indication that it was to be returned.

Complying with the instructions Rick and the others set off with their dozen guards, making their departure quickly and without fuss. They were afforded no opportunity to speak with one another as they walked, and when he noticed that Lana looked unusually pale he couldn't even ask if she was okay. Nevertheless there wasn't complete silence, for he could hear quiet murmurs being passed back and forth between the Oceansiders. Intermittently he looked up to observe the group dynamic, noting that they talked quietly amongst themselves, seeming to dislike the fact that he had noticed their discussion.

"You've got enough gas to get back to where you're from?" Beatrice asked when they reached their car.

"We have enough," he confirmed, though he didn't think for a second that her concern was for their wellbeing, but for them to be as far away as possible. "You won't reconsider?"

Beatrice didn't respond, simply ushering them all to line up alongside the car while the Oceansiders stood watch over them, their guns still raised. They backed away before Kathy tossed Michonne's katana over a nearby fence and into the grass, leaving it for them to keep, but making sure it couldn't be retrieved in time to hurt them. Cyndie did the same thing with Rick's duty belt too and everyone else's weapons, while the small pistol he had brought with him remained in her pocket.

"That's it?" Lana asked, sounding genuinely hurt. "Seriously?"

The group didn't respond at first, more concerned with backing up from them and keeping them at gun point until they felt safe. They were twenty yards away by the time they took pause, another murmur sweeping through them as they began to discuss again. As he waited Rick held his breath, quietly hopeful that they would come through for them. Lana had said all along that it wasn't Natania they needed to convince, but rather the rest of them. Her observation appeared to be playing out before their eyes, the Oceansiders looking at them hesitantly as their conversation reached a conclusion.

"Do you remember where the old sign used to be?" Cyndie asked as she came forward, speaking to Lana.

"Two miles back," she answered. "I remember. You took it down like I said?"

Cyndie nodded, glancing around at her people before taking a deep breath. "Meet us there in two days. Exactly two days," she added to clarify. "And only you five. No one else, or we'll shoot."

"You'll talk to Natania?" Rick confirmed.

"I'll try," she agreed quietly.

"Thank you."

"We haven't agreed to anything," Kathy added, making a point of clearing that up. "But for what it's worth, we're sorry about the guns we took."

Lana gave a bitter laugh. "You mean, sorry for throwing me under the bus?"

"You said they'd never know it was you, and that they wouldn't blame Arat," she shrugged. "So we took everything we could."

"We're sorry," Cyndie said next, sounding like she meant it. "Really, Lana."

It looked as though Lana wasn't quite ready to let it go, the situation they left her in having been the last straw that forced her to marry Negan, but to her credit she said nothing. Having said all there was to say the Oceansiders resumed their retreat, holding them at gun point for a few more yards before disappearing into the trees. As though they needed time to process the magnitude of what they achieved Rick and the others stood motionless for a few minutes, simply taking it all in. They hadn't quite reached their goal, but in two days they would know whether or not this community was willing to fight with them or not. Despite the resistance, Rick was willing to bet that at least some of them would join.

Without a word of discussion they got to work, Dianne, Jesus and Michonne heading towards the fence where their possessions waited on the other side. With their hands behind their backs it proved to be a tricky task, but with Dianne and Jesus crouching down Michonne deftly used them to step over the fence and jump to the other side. She fumbled about in the grass for a few moments, but when she managed to find one of their knives she carefully used it to cut the cable ties around Jesus' wrist. With his hands free he made quick work of freeing the rest of them, and in minutes they were almost ready to get back on the road. When he secured his duty belt back around his waist he opened one of the pouches and looked inside, relieved to find that Cyndie had returned his pictures.

"You handled yourself well today," he said quietly to Lana, sensing that she needed the reassurance. "I know you didn't want to give them up, but you did the right thing."

"Thanks."

Hearing a strange tone in her voice he looked around, worried to find that she looked rather unwell. Her her cheeks appeared flushed while the rest of her skin was pale, and he wondered if she had pushed herself too far that day. Carson had been reluctant for her to make this trip today, preferring that she instead remain at the Hilltop and continue resting. After all, she had nearly died five days ago.

"I think we should get you back to Carson," he murmured, ushering her towards the car. "Maybe you should ride up front."

She nodded in agreement and headed for the front passenger seat, but when she opened the door she came to a sudden stop, becoming completely still. Hovering behind her he asked what was wrong, his mind going to worst case scenario as he waited for her to respond, but when she suddenly slapped her hand across her mouth he understood the familiar scene. He quickly stepped back when her shoulders began to heave, allowing her to stagger away from the car and promptly vomit all over the road.

There was a resounding murmur of sympathy from the others, Michonne hastening to fetch some water as Lana coughed and gagged. She vomited a second time, swaying on her feet and allowing Michonne to take her hand, but the moment it was over she started laughing joyously.

"Shit that feels better," she cursed, looking around at them with a beaming smile that was completely out of place these days. She laughed again, using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth. "I've wanted to do that since I smelled them cooking breakfast!"

"Mmmm, they were cooking fish," Dianne commiserated.

"It smelled like arse," Lana joked, taking a mouthful of water and then spitting it out.

"You done?" Michonne asked.

Sobering a little, Lana nodded before taking another mouthful of water and spitting it out again. As a few Walkers emerged from the trees down the road they each hastened to get into the car, Rick refusing the suggestion that he drive the return trip. With his shoulder aching painfully he settled into the back alongside Dianne, while Jesus settled into the top trunk. They would have another long journey back to the Kingdom and then to the Hilltop, the danger enhanced by the presence of Lana and Dianne, the former who was supposed to be dead, and the latter whose association with them would give away Alexandria's greatest strength against the Saviours. The sooner they safely returned to the Hilltop the better.

"Rick, you know what they're going to say, right?" Lana asked.

They had been driving for a few minutes now, each of them wrapped in their own thoughts. Nothing that Lana was pointedly avoiding his gaze, that she had waited until he couldn't see her face, he gave her an honest answer.

"They'll fight with us," he answered, suspecting they would convince Natania.

"But?"

"But…we'll have to let Arat go free."


	52. Chapter 52

Tuesday, March 3rd

Somehow, the days had begun to pass quickly, and by now it had been exactly a week since it all happened. A week since the day she and Rick made love in the morning, a week since Carol left them and Daryl ran off looking for Dwight…and here they were now. This was to be her fourth day living with Negan's wives, a group of women who had been surprisingly welcoming to her, not that there was much they could do in the way of helping her situation. Nevertheless, being taken out of that cell and brought to live with the wives had been a welcome change, one that brought with it a small amount of power and control over what happened to her next. To a certain extent she was free to go about her day and do as she pleased, and so far she had been doing exactly that.

Shrugging on her coat she tucked three ziplock bags into her pocket, closing the bedroom door behind herself before passing through the living room. Preparations for their movie night were well under way, the bar fully stocked and an empty table awaiting the food that the prisoners would bring. Lounging on one of the plush couches were Sherry, Amber and Jade, the three of them engaged in a heated but friendly discussion over which movie they were going to watch, more specifically which movie would make Negan cringe the most. As expected there was a last ditch attempt to convince her to stay, Amber in particular going to some effort to have her join them, but Carrie politely declined all requests.

She had absolutely no desire to spend a night in with Negan, to share popcorn and laughter with the man who had murdered Glenna and Abraham. As it stood she saw enough of that mongrel already, and saw no reason to increase the time she spent with him. Knowing her way around by now she didn't need to take anyone with her, and so she confidently stepped out into the corridor alone. Waiting outside was Dwight, his head bowed and shoulders hunched forward as he smoked a cigarette, but when he saw her approaching he hastily lowered it and tried to waft away the smell.

"Do you need a flashlight?" he offered, rifling around in his pockets to find a spare. "It's dark down there already."

"I'm fine," she said shortly, already having a small flashlight in her possession. She looked at him from the corner of her eye as she passed him by, wondering if he was there waiting for Sherry, hoping to see her.

Unconcerned with his problems, Carrie confidently made her way through the halls to the downstairs levels, though as usual she kept her head down and avoided interactions with anyone who happened to pass her. Having made it through the last four days with little else to do she spent a great deal of time roaming the halls, getting the know the place well, or the inside of it at least. There was an unspoken rule that she didn't venture far outside, not unless she was helping the workers in the laundry to hang out wet clothes to dry, a chore she frequented often. They were nice to her down there, and they called her by her name, not Alexandria. The workers in the laundry allowed her to come and waste time there, to avoid Negan's men by hanging out clothes and occasionally ironing. It helped them out while keeping her busy and active, something she needed very much right now.

Reaching another staircase, Carrie took her time descending, hanging onto the railing and using her flashlight to guide her way. The corridors could be intimidating at night, but especially so the stairs which felt steeper than normal. As she reached the next corridor she strode away again, revelling in the change she had felt in her body over the last few days. Although the baby hadn't turned over yet she did feel a little different. Was this the lightening she had read about? Had the baby dropped? Whatever it was, it felt like she could breathe a little easier, though she hadn't detected a noticeable change in her belly. Nevertheless, the pleasant change was also worrisome for her…was the baby coming soon? Pregnancy complaints aside, she needed this baby to stay in there for as long as possible, to give her time to get out of here…if that was ever going to happen. The prospect of going into labour and childbirth was frightening enough for her, but especially the notion that she might have to do it here at the Sanctuary, without Rick and people she trusted. She was not holding onto the hope that Negan might allow Rick to be there should the baby come while she was still a prisoner.

Stopping at a large cooler of drinking water, Carrie filled each of the ziplock bags the usual amount and then slipped them back into her pockets. Continuing on her journey she descended the final set of stairs down to the basement where Daryl was still being kept in a cell. Twice a day she was coming down here to see him, three times a day if he was ever allowed a reprieve from his work out on the fences or scrubbing shit from toilets. His conditions had marginally improved, and he had even been moved to the larger and cleaner cell Carrie had occupied, though without any of her amenities. But despite him now having adequate access to water and a meagre meal twice a day, Carrie continued bringing him water and whatever items of food she could fit under the door.

She had largely been prevented from interacting with him, Dwight having even stationed someone at the upper windows where Sherry had first shown her the view down to the yard, but that didn't stop her from trying. It was her the Saviours sympathised with, not Daryl and so she continued using that to her advantage. So while she couldn't interact with him throughout the day, just as Sherry assured her no one had stopped her coming down to the basement cells. Tonight it was David on guard, the prick that had put her in a choke hold the night she attacked Laura, but as usual he paid her little attention. Despite Sherry's warning that she might have to put up with a little harassment from Negan's men, no one had so much as looked at her sideways, a small blessing.

When she reached Daryl's cell she slowly and carefully lowered herself to the ground, wishing that this particular spot wasn't within David's view, that he couldn't hear everything she said to Daryl. Gently knocking on the door she alerted him to her arrival, and then she took the bags of water from her pocket and laid them flat on the cold floor, slipping them underneath the door. She waited expectantly for him to take it, to hear his voice murmuring to her, but there was nothing. Pressing her ear to the door she knocked again, starting to feel worried when she heard no movement inside. Was he not back from being worked yet? Or worse, had he been taken to the Infirmary for something?

"Daryl," she murmured softly, knocking again. "Are you in there?"

There was silence a few moments more, and then she heard the usual shuffle of him coming closer. "I'm here, Blondie."

Glad that he wasn't in the Infirmary she watched as he took the first baggie she slipped under the door, and then she quickly slipped the next two under as well. He would spend a few minutes either drinking the water or using it to clean himself up a little, but always refused her offer to bring more back. Was Dwight providing enough to sustain his needs, or was he just trying to reassure her that he was okay, that she needn't worry?

When two of the three baggies were returned empty she turned to his food next, taking out two slices of bread with strips of bacon between them. Using a napkin to keep them clean she slid it under the door piece by piece, the bread a little flatter than it ought to be, but it was more sustenance than the meagre meal Dwight would have provided. He had two blankets in there too hidden out of sight in the corner, blankets she had managed to hide underneath her coat before stuffing it under the gap between the floor and door.

"I got four strips of bacon at dinner. I figured one for me, one for the baby, and two for you."

He replied just as he always did, a soft grunt to acknowledge he had heard her speaking, followed by equally soft words of gratitude. Following the bacon sandwich was a few pieces of baked potato and carrot, and then finally a napkin with six black jelly beans. She had taken these from the candy jar in the living room, for none of the wives liked the black ones, but she knew that Daryl did. He'd told her a story once, that after Merle left and joined the military Daryl would mail his big brother a pack of jellybeans with all the black ones eaten, a racist joke the two brothers shared.

"How are you?" she asked when he had passed the napkins back, hiding the evidence that she was bringing him food and water.

"Good." It was the answer he'd given her every time she asked over the last few days, the only answer he would ever give her. "You?"

"I'm good too."

Like his, her answer was always the same, but not for the same reason. She really was okay. Though she was a prisoner too she wasn't being abused or mistreated, she wasn't living in a cell eating scraps and dog food. She slept in a warm bed at night and had been given extra clothing and toiletries, and she saw a doctor whenever she so pleased.

Today had been her fourth visit to the Infirmary, a place that gave her reprieve from having to deal with the rest of the Sanctuary. With Negan's instructions that she was to have all treatment necessary Carson was as thorough as possible in this word, ensuring he checked her blood pressure, blood glucose, urine, her weight and measurements of her belly. He did everything he could except an internal examination, unable to argue with her blunt refusal. Though she got the impression that Caron was insisting on this purely out of concern, her ability to refuse such an invasive exam was just about the only element of power she had left, and was determined to cling to it.

But her visits were not only with Doctor Carson, for twenty minutes into her second appointment last Sunday they had been joined by another. Though the person had knocked and was welcomed in by Carson, it still felt like an intrusion to her, making this yet another person who had been poking and prodding her throughout her pregnancy. Entering was a man not much younger than Carson, his blue polo shirt and chinos more fitting for a day at the country club than at the Sanctuary, but Carson had greeted him with familiarity.

"Carrie, this is _not_ _a doctor_ , Doctor Wilson," he said lightly, smiling as he ushered him inside and closed the door behind him. "Negan has requested he assist me in overseeing the remainder of your pregnancy."

"Very pleased to meet you," Wilson said, eagerly extending his hand to her.

She didn't return the sentiment, but shook his hand nonetheless. Given her situation she couldn't afford to be outright rude to these people. "Not a doctor, Doctor Wilson," she recited, not quite understanding.

Setting down a small CD player and his coat, Wilson explained. "I'm a fully licensed health practitioner with a PhD and my own practice, but still not a doctor according to Negan."

"Or any medical board," Carson added. There was a pause as the two men looked at one another, but they chuckled as though it was a private joke. "Doctor Wilson is a chiropractor. He travels between our outposts providing adjustments to those who need them. He even sees to Negan."

"It's a shame I can adjust their spines but not their personalities."

At this both Carson and Wilson burst into chuckles, Carson shaking his head in amusement, whereas Carrie just sat there on the edge of the exam table. It was disconcerting, the whole situation making her again feel like she was an exhibit at the zoo.

"Look, ummm," she began uncomfortably, unsure of how to say this. Though she'd been afforded freedoms, she didn't get the impression she had a lot of control. "I do plenty of yoga, my back is fine. I don't need you to crack it."

"Don't you worry," Wilson said, his tone borderline condescending. "It's just a minor adjustment, it won't hurt at all. In fact, it will only take five minutes. I'm just going to do a little work on your sacrum, an alignment oft neglected by commonplace yoga."

"It's best to try this before an external version," Carson commented. "Proper alignment of the sacrum makes more room in the pelvis. There's no point in coaxing the baby to turn over if there's no room for it to do so."

Carrie remained silent, unsure of what to say. Though she was sure he cared for her well being, still she couldn't make up her mind as to whether or not she really trusted him. For so long Denise had been her doctor, and their solution for the baby had been to consult with Brea, another trusted doctor. Would Brea agree with this? Would it even work?

Seeing that she was still uncomfortable, Wilson turned to Carson. "Carrie and I will get started, if that's alright?"

Recognising the request for some privacy, Carson simply nodded and clasped his colleague on the shoulder. "You'll be in good hands," he assured her as he opened the door to step out. "Simon was like a bear with a thorn in his paw until Wilson got his hands on him."

When the door closed behind Carson she slowly breathed out, trying to talk herself through this. She just needed to stand up for herself a little, to assert what treatment she was and was not willing to undergo. Feeling more and more anxious she watched as he loaded a CD into the player and shuffled through the songs, settling on a peaceful, melodic tune. She didn't know this man, she didn't trust him, it wasn't completely outrageous that she not want him putting his hands on her.

"Look, you mean well," she began as he raised the volume a little. "But I'm not comfortable having an adj-"

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" Wilson cut her off, his demeanour changing completely. Taking a low stool he wheeled it over to where she sat on the edge of the exam table, taking a seat and then looking up at her expectantly. "I am a chiropractor, and I do adjustments for Negan and his men, but I am not Negan."

Startled by the change in his manner Carrie simply looked at him, her lips parted around the questions she was too taken aback to ask. What the hell was going on?

"I'm Bill Wilson, I'm a resident of The Kingdom, and the leader I serve is King Ezekiel."

"Wha…" she started, flabbergasted by the revelation. "You're from the Ki-"

He cut her off again, raising his palm to make her stop. "I know, I know. You've never heard of the Kingdom, or King Ezekiel," he said softly, looking her in the eye. "You have never visited such a place. I don't know your people, and you don't know mine. In fact, this conversation right now never happened."

Catching on, Carrie pressed her lips together. Whatever had happened, maintaining the secrecy of Alexandria and the Kingdom's relationship was of utmost importance. But here this guy was, telling her of their connection to one another, reassuring her that all was well. Still though, she questioned whether or not this was the truth, or a ruse.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Good," he said softly, lowering his hand and leaning back now he had her understanding. "My services were called for a year ago after Simon threw his back out. I go between the outposts and do my work, and if I keep my head down I get to be at home in the Kingdom two weeks out of the month."

"Do you know where the outposts are?" she asked, conscious that the information Lana had given them was months out of date.

Wilson shook his head. "I don't even know where I am now, they blindfold me when we travel, I've only ever seen the inside of those places. But that's not what I'm here to talk about," he said, taking her hand in his. "There are some things that you need to know. King Ezekiel knows what happened to Alexandria, and so does the Hilltop."

Her heart leapt, aching for news of her family. "Is everyone okay? Have you spoken to Rick?"

"I don't know," he whispered apologetically. "We were trying to send people to check on them, but the Saviours were still on the roads. I don't know if my people made it."

"But…is the Kingdom doing something?" she asked in despair, feeling like she was welling up with tears. "You have to do something."

"I don't know what the plan is," he whispered. "But I do know that there is a plan, and there'll be a part for you to play too."

At this she took pause, steadying herself with a deep breath. "What do I have to do?"

Wilson cleared his throat a little, bringing the stool closer to her. "It's highly unlikely that you'll give birth to your baby here at the Sanctuary. If that happens then Negan is responsible for however it plays out, and he does not want responsibility for you and the baby on his shoulders."

"Then what does he want?" she asked, not sparing a moment to rejoice in this news.

"Probably to rub it in Rick's face, to use you as a means of showing him who is in charge. Sooner or later he will have to give you back to keep things running smoothly, and I strongly suspect he will do that before the baby is born. Negan, he…for want of a better term, the man just wants peace and quiet. I think he might regret taking you in the first place."

"Okay," she murmured, trying to take this all in. "So, what do I have to do?"

"You're not going to like it," he warned.

"Tell me. Whatever it is, I'll get it done.

"You need to sit tight. Wait."

She blinked at him, confused. "Sit tight?"

He nodded. "Negan is going to let you go," he repeated. "Sit tight, and wait for that moment. Don't stir up trouble, keep your head down and do as you're told. And Carrie, this bit's important…if you get the opportunity to escape, do not take it."

"What about Daryl? He's here too."

Clearly Wilson had been hoping she wouldn't bring this up, for he looked a little uncomfortable with her question. "We haven't forgotten about him, and we won't. But the reality is, Negan is not going to let him go. Not ever."

"No," she said firmly, trying to stand her ground. "That's not good enough, we have to try to get him out too."

"Carrie, Carrie…" he implored, squeezing her hand. "Once you're safe we're going to wage an attack on this place, but we can't do that until you're safe."

"And Daryl? I can't leave him behind."

"Well you're going to have to," he stated. "Do you think that he wouldn't want you to be free? Do you think he'd be happy if you threw away your chance for freedom for him?"

She fell silent, knowing the answer to this. Daryl would never forgive her if she ruined her chance at freedom for him, and neither would Rick. It was a bitter pill to swallow and accept that one person was more or less important than another, particularly someone she loved, but right now it was the reality. She was to give birth any day now, and her baby's wellbeing depended entirely on hers.

"We've already talked about this for too long," Wilson said in worry, glancing at his wristwatch before standing up, ushering Carrie to her feet too. "The adjustment I'm supposed to be doing should only take a few minutes. We can talk again tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she queried, watching as he lowered the examination table and reclined it flat.

"I'm going to recommend repeat appointments," he murmured. He fussed around with the bed now, Carrie watching on as he laid out some pillows and rolled up a blanket. Setting them out he gestured for her hand, coaxing her towards the table. "I'll help you up. You'll need to be face down."

She hesitated, for despite trusting that Wilson was indeed who he said he was, she still felt a certain level of uncertainty. In a very short space of time she had learnt a great deal, and the magnitude of what he wanted her to do was a heavy weight around her shoulders. They wanted her to leave Daryl behind, to completely forsake him, and while she knew it was the rational thing to do she wasn't so sure she could really do it.

Accepting Wilson's help she tentatively climbed up onto the examination table, starting to shake as she laid down with the pillows and blankets supporting her belly. She was tense as she laid there, unable to relax even as he gently coached her through what he was doing and why it was going to help. It wasn't the touch of unfamiliar hands on her lower body, not even when he pressed his fingertips into the top of her ass, but the prospect of everything she faced. How could she possibly relax right now? Even the news that Negan would let her go home before the birth was only a small comfort…what would happen to Daryl?

"That's a much happier sacrum," Wilson declared a few minutes later, helping her sit up to her knees. "Your spine is mostly well aligned, but your sacrum not so much. Now if you could just lay down on your back, taking some deep breaths to relax your body…that's it, good."

"Even if I did leave Daryl behind," she murmured, trying to think out loud. "We can't attack this place if he's still here."

"In which case, we never attack," Wilson countered. As he spoke he placed his hands on her lower belly, feeling around through her shirt before applying a little pressure. "And your raise a baby in a world of tyranny and fear."

"If we got the chance to run, we'd have to at least try." As she spoke she was looking down and watching what he was doing with her belly, feeling the baby start to move in response to the pressure.

Wilson shook his head. "Doing so would bring the wrong kind of attention to Rick. They'd look for you both high and low. We need to create a status quo and maintain it…that's the only way we can take them by surprise."

Struggling to take it all in she went very quiet, resisting the urge to touch her belly to comfort herself. She could feel the baby moving inside her, a lazy stretch of the limbs, but their presence inside her was about the only thing that stopped her spiralling into despair. With her baby inside her she felt a purpose, she didn't feel alone…but Daryl? He was a true prisoner of Negan's, being tortured and forced to work, starved and kept in depraved conditions. It must surely feel like there was no one in the world looking out for him, that he was truly alone. How could she leave him here?

"I saw Rick for a adjustment while he stayed with us at the Kingdom," Wilson told her, perhaps trying to break the silence. "He complained in pain in his lower back. I think he'd been cutting firewood."

She looked up at him, the story intriguing her. "Was he okay?"

"He required a slight adjustment, but the problem was mainly muscular. I suggested he follow up with some acupuncture, we have someone who does that as well as cutting hair, but I get the feeling it was a little too _hocus pocus_ for him."

Despite everything, Carrie managed a smile. "Yeah, that sounds like him."

"I must implore you to do what I've told you. Don't try to run, just bide your time and wait.

Today had been her third appointment Wilson, and though he insisted the adjustment he performed would facilitate the baby turning over, she also got the feeling he was helping her waste time. He had been the one who suggested she go spend time in the Laundry to avoid Negan and his men, and what should have been a brief appointment of only ten minutes always seemed to last forty. They had tried to talk a little more, but after giving them some initial privacy during their first appointment Carson hadn't been so courteous thereafter. He had been present every day since, watching and studying what Wilson was doing or bustling around with his supplies. His presence was frustrating her greatly, leaving her unable to ask Wilson anything else about what had been going on in the world outside the Sanctuary and Alexandria.

She stayed with Daryl a little while longer, but when she heard the sound of another guard joining David at his post she figured it might be time for her to leave. "I should go," she said quietly, thanking him when he passed back the third plastic bag that was now empty. "I'll see you in the morning."

He murmured something from the other side of the door, but it was muffled, and she didn't ask him to repeat it. They never spoke much when she came down there, but the purpose of her visits wasn't to make small talk. All she wanted to do was remind him that he wasn't alone, hoping that the small tokens of food and water she could bring were as much comfort as her company. Hell, she came down here for her own benefit too, to comfort herself. She needed to hear his voice on the other side of that door, to know that he was still surviving day to day, and she couldn't bear the thought of not coming down here to be with him. More and more she had been thinking about what Wilson had instructed, that if she ever found the opportunity for her and Daryl to escape together she wasn't to take it. The priority was for her safe release, and though she had come to terms with the notion that she might have to leave Daryl behind, she still wasn't okay with it. She couldn't stop imagining him here alone, completely isolated from the people who loved him, without a kind word of comfort from anyone…the thought of him going through that was unbearable.

Upon her return to her living quarters she found their living room fully occupied, all of the wives scantily clad in short dresses and low neck lines. Negan had arrived by now to spend the evening, presently sprawled out on the couch with Frankie draped across his lap. Though she thought he would be a man of leisure it seemed Negan was constantly busy with a task of some kind, often found prowling around the Sanctuary with Lucille over his shoulder, looking for someone or giving orders to the lower ranks. But once four o'clock rolled around he promptly made his way back upstairs for his daily drink with Carrie. Not once had he been late, and though the thought had crossed her mind, Carrie had not been late either.

His instructions that she join him each day for an afternoon drink had not been overlooked, and after her daily appointment with Carson and Wilson at three o'clock she had just enough time to make it back. Every time she made her way up the flights of stairs back towards his quarters she was hopeful that today might be different, that he might be caught up with something else and be too busy to see her, but she hadn't been so lucky. Without fail she returned to find the door to his room open wide, Negan lounged on the couch and waiting for her. Always the hospitable host there was a tray of food and her choice of drink, offers which she accepted not just to keep the peace, but because there was no point in fighting what she could not control.

Their conversations always started the same, a polite enquiry about her day, Negan expressing what felt like genuine concern that people were treating her well. He made a point of asking if anyone had crossed her, if there was someone who had been less than accomodating to her unusual status, but her answer was always no. Prisoner though she may be, since she had moved in with the wives no one thus far had even toed the line of mistreating her.

But all too quickly it became apparent that Negan's invitation for her to join him each day was not just about him checking on her well being, but something much more. His polite interest lasted ten minutes at best, and then it turned into an inquisition, though if she ever confronted him about it she suspected he would deny that was his cause. Once the small talk was out of the way his attention turned to her life back home in Alexandria, and most noticeably to her relationship with Rick. Negan wanted to know everything, trying to pry as much information out of her as possible.

Not caring that he was being intrusive he had asked repeatedly about them, phrasing his questions in different ways to try and get new answers. How had they met one another? Was it instant love, or did it start as something else? Had they been together long, and was their marriage good…was the sex good? Some questions she refused to answer, somehow finding the courage to stand up to him as necessary, a quality he seemed to like in her, but for the most part she had to answer…and it had to be truthful. She didn't know what was going on behind the scenes, nor did she know if he was ever going to verify these things with Rick. If there was a discrepancy between what she told him and what Rick said, would he mad?

It was no small wonder that his interest in her and Rick felt intrusive, for that day when they went to Alexandria he had taken more than supplies and mattresses from them. Most notably to her at least he had taken their video camera, and it was clear to her he had watched a great deal of the footage. He had been asking her specific questions about their family, the question as to who was Carl and Judith's real mother indicating he had seen Judith's first birthday party. It made her feel sick to her stomach to know he was watching her family's history, that the video camera and memory cards sat on his nightstand like a book he read before going to sleep.

But what was she to do about it? Snatch them up from his nightstand? Refuse to attend their daily meetings? Sickened though it made her feel, Carrie had no choice but to play along with him.

"Carrie!" Amber whispered loudly, waving at her across the room. "Come and watch with us. It's Mean Girls."

 _I have better things to do, Bambi_ , she thought unkindly to herself. "Thanks, but I'm a bit tired."

"You haven't missed much," Tanya whispered, lifting up a bowl of popcorn and showing it to her. "Come on."

"Yeah," came Negan's booming voice, the volume making the wives groan and reach for the remote control. "Come and join us, Carrie."

He was looking directly at her now, and while that grin of his wasn't outright creepy it did make her feel unnerved, like he was testing her somehow. She cringed on the inside when she saw the way he held Frankie in his lap, the way he had his arm around her shoulder and his hand inside her bra. It made her cringe not because she thought it was wrong, but because that was the type of move Rick pulled when they sat down to watch television together. He enjoyed putting his arm around her and then slowly letting his hand creep inside her shirt, barely withholding a smile as he waited for her to call him out on it. But she didn't stop him, waiting until his hand was almost completely inside her shirt before biting his wrist with a playful growl. He had laughed uproariously he first time she did that, but it hadn't deterred him. Now however, watching Negan doing much the same thing to Frankie, she wasn't sure she'd ever let Rick do that again.

"Thanks, but I'm tired," she repeated, hoping he didn't keep at the subject.

Giving a dramatic groan of disappointment, Negan thankfully opted to leave her alone, instead turning his attention to Frankie and giving her a kiss on the cheek before telling someone to turn the volume down. But as she made her way down the corridor to her room she was certain his eyes were following her, perhaps annoyed that she wouldn't join him that evening.

Taking her toiletries she made her way into the luxuriously decorated bathroom and prepared for bed, brushing her teeth and washing her face. For a short while she was completely alone with her thoughts, using the privacy to think a few things through while she brushed her hair and dabbed some face cream onto her cheeks. When she lifted her shirt to rub some lotion onto her belly she looked at her left hand, admiring the wedding rings she had managed to recover yesterday. She had found them for sale in the marketplace, and to her disbelief there was almost no protest when she simply snatched them out of number Eight's tray of trinkets for sale. There was no question of who she was or her right to take them. Number Eight didn't even make her write it in the ledger, though she suspected the topic of payment would come up when Laura reconciled the ledgers at the end of the week. It was stupid really, the rings were material items, but it was nice to have them back again. Rick had given her these, had agonised over which engagement ring to choose, and blessedly they still fit her even though her fingers had swelled a little during pregnancy.

Looking around the bathroom she took note of a few toiletry items that had not been put away that evening, and she recalled the major undertaking of the wives preparing for their evening with Negan. While Carrie spent the afternoon in her bedroom the door had been slightly ajar, allowing her to listen in while they all got dressed, helping one another with their hair and make up, debating who it was that Negan would ask into his bed that night.

"I got my monthly woe," Tanya claimed, excluding herself from the selection pool. "I'm out."

"So what? Negan won't care."

"I care," she said firmly. "All I wanna do tonight is eat popcorn and watch TV. Besides, I'm bloated to hell."

"I'll do him," Frankie said lightly, parading up and down the hall in a dress she had borrowed from Jade. "He hasn't boned me in ages, I'll close over down there if he's not careful."

"Ha!" someone laughed loudly. "He'd probably like that!"

Though she had been trying to keep her distance from the wives, what interactions she had with them had been fine thus far. The wives had welcomed her without hesitation, going out of their way to make sure she had what she needed and helping her settle in. Nevertheless, she got along with them because she forced herself to, because she withheld the vast majority of what she wanted to say to them. The only vindication she ever got was her internal monologue, the unkind nicknames she had for some, Amber in particular.

Finishing up, Carrie slipped across the hall and into the privacy of her bedroom, and not for the first time she wished there was a lock on her door. Still able to hear the television playing in the living room she bustled around her bedroom and put her things away, changing into some comfortable sweatpants and a tank top. When she sank down into the plush mattress she had to go to the effort of getting comfortable with her pillows, sticking one between her knees and another below her belly. But it was the thick pillow she put behind her back that mattered the most, one that made her feel as though Rick might be there warming her in the cold night. His temperature always seemed to run so hot at night, and though she had occasionally complained she longed to have him there tonight.

As she settled in for the night from beneath her pillow she pulled out a baby onesie, looking forward to when she could put it on her baby. It was dark blue with a police badge and the words _There's a new Sheriff in town_ emblazoned across the front. Tara had found it for her a few months ago, gifting it to her at the elaborate baby shower she had thrown, and now it had become a source of comfort for her, something that felt like a connection to her family in Alexandria. The first night she was in this room she had fallen asleep with it clutched in her fist, having cried herself to sleep as quietly as possible.

Unlike other nights that had passed, ones that had been difficult on her, tonight Carrie didn't cry herself to sleep again. She was in bed at barely eight o'clock in the evening, and after an hour or so of reading a book she'd borrowed from the library the baby began making its presence known. It always did this to her when she settled for the night, ready to fall asleep but unable to do so because of the light flutters of movements. But tonight it was particularly active, and despite the cool air she pulled her shirt up and watched the side of her belly moving. She marvelled over every movement her baby made, touching the places where her skin bulged and contorted. Closing her eyes she tried to imagine what it was doing inside her, not quite able to place its position.

For the first time since that awful night, Carrie easily fell into a restful sleep.

* * *

Wednesday, March 4th

Something was wrong…something was terribly wrong.

Carrie awoke in a state of panic, terrified as she scrambled to get out of bed. The fight or flight response was kicking in, and she had clearly opted for flight, she just didn't know from what. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, her diaphragm paralysed and denying her oxygen, but then her body started catching up with the panic inside her head.

Pain. It was absolute agony unlike anything she'd ever felt, and her first thought was that the baby was coming. Fumbling through the dark she clutched at her belly, feeling the baby moving about inside her as she gasped for breath. Stumbling out of bed she knocked over the items on her nightstand, desperately trying to see in the dark as she collapsed to her knees on the floor, and to her relief the bedroom door came crashing open with a loud bang.

Light filled the room as someone rushed inside and came to her, and it was only then she realised that she had been screaming, conscious of the way it felt in her throat. Still half asleep she was crying and pleading for relief, twisting around and desperately clutching the back of her right leg. She had been bitten by something, something that latched on and was tearing her flesh from her body. It was the worst pain she'd ever felt, something had to be terribly wrong, but she couldn't even see it properly.

"Carrie!" Sherry was shouting, shaking her. "Is it the baby? Carrie?"

She tried to explain, she really did, but she could barely look up let alone find the words. All she could do was grab at her leg, trying to dislodge whatever it was that was hurting her. When she moved the pain intensified, her panic growing as she tried to make sense of what was happening. In the background she could hear Amber hysterically crying for help, completely beside herself.

"What the fucking fuck is going on?"

Carrie looked up to see Negan bursting through her bedroom door, pulling a white teeshirt over his head as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His face alight with alarm he looked down at her on the ground, his eyes widening in panic of his own.

"The fuck is wrong with her?"

"I think she's in labour!" Amber cried out, still hysterical.

"Shit," Negan cursed, taking a hasty step back and crashing into the door. "Fucking shit! Call Carson."

"Wait!" someone called out, the person by Carrie' side. "She's not in labour, it's her leg. Carrie?"

She nodded, still gasping for breath. "My leg," she managed to say, looking up and coming face to face with Sherry. "It's my leg."

Brushing the wives aside Negan came to her aid, striding across the bed to where she knelt on the other side of the room. Hastening to help her he squeezed himself into the space between her bed and the wall, bluntly telling her to move her hands. She refused, certain that letting go would make it worse, but then he wrenched her hands away himself. She cried out again, feeling the agony intensifying to the point that she thought it would never end…and then it was over.

"Someone check her bed," Sherry instructed, looking at the wives over her shoulder. "Make sure she hasn't been bit by a spider."

"It wasn't a spider," Negan said loudly, taking control of the situation. "Everyone calm the fuck down."

Panting for breath, Carrie slumped down onto her hip and looked at her leg, the white spots clearing from her vision as she saw him crouched behind her. His hands were clenched tight around the back of her calf, the immense pressure blessedly alleviating her pain. Knuckles white with the force of his squeeze he maintained the pressure, watching the relief coming across her face. There was near silence now, only the sound of her panting for breath and Amber crying in the doorway.

"Worst fucking pain of your life?" Negan enquired, his tone gentle and sympathetic. "Hurts so bad you want to chew your damn leg off?"

Unable to speak she simply nodded her head, clenching her teeth together as she tried to normalise her breathing. She could feel sweat pouring down her forehead, her arms trembling as she held herself up, but the white hot agony was gone. Replacing it was an uncomfortable ache, one that worsened when he began easing the pressure, but when he saw the effect of the change he added more pressure again.

"It's a muscle spasm. A Charley Horse by the looks of it." He held her gaze a moment and then looked down at her leg and foot, nodding to himself. "You're fine."

To her absolute astonishment she felt his words calming her, and despite everything she felt a surge of trust, a certainty that he really meant it. She was going to be okay. When he told her to stand up she trusted his instructions, though at first she faltered, her body feeling like it couldn't remember how to move. But Sherry was there again, helping her bear her weight as she brought her left foot up and rose. As she stood Negan kept hold of her right leg, bringing it in line with her body before slowly guiding her toe down to the ground.

"We're going to stretch the muscle now. Go nice and slow, like you're popping some girl's cherry."

"Negan," Sherry hissed at him, disapproving of what he said.

"Calm your tits, Sweetheart. She can take a joke," he insisted, glancing up at Carrie. "Start with the toes and then slowly lower your foot down, alright?"

"N-no," she protested. "I can't yet, it still hurts."

"I got you," he assured her. "Someone get me some massage oil."

There was a commotion at the door as all of the wives hastened to do so, though when Carrie glanced up she was unsurprised to see Amber still standing there shellshocked. Her face was white, eyes red from her hysterical panic and Carrie almost laughed at her. A few moments later Frankie returned, her silk robe gaping to show the red negligee she had been wearing while in Negan's room, and she carried with her a glass bottle of yellow liquid.

"Get around here," Negan instructed her, using his head to gesture to Carrie's leg. "You pull her sweats up as I move my fingers, then start the oil."

When he started moving his fingers up and down along her calf Carrie could barely withhold a groan. Though he had lessened the pressure the sensation of his fingers massaging the muscle provided an incredible relief. Working a fraction at a time he coached her to slowly lower her foot flat to the floor, and began bearing her weight

"Does it hurt anywhere else? Hamstring? Foot?"

"No," she answered. "No where else."

"And you're awake now?" he asked lightly.

"Yes," she breathed, lifting her hands and pushing her hair off her face. "I'm awake now."

At her answer Negan chuckled under his breath. His massage changed a little, his fingers now moving in sweeping motions up and down the back of her leg. "You should have seen your fucking face when I got in here. You were all crazy eyed and wild."

For some reason this made her laugh a little, and then she laughed again because it felt so good. Her body began to settle now, her former fight or flight response having receded now that the pain was almost gone. She wasn't scared anymore, and she could feel the baby inside her still moving, telling her that it too was okay. Sherry passed her a glass of water and she drank gratefully, and now she started to feel embarrassed. She'd caused one hell of a commotion all over a leg cramp, though in her defence she'd never felt pain like that in her life. Until now she thought she had a high threshold for pain, she'd once taken a hockey stick to the face and broken three teeth, but that leg cramp had been something else entirely.

For a few more minutes Negan kept up his massage of her leg, coaching her to start leaning forward into a lunge. While he kept one hand rubbing the contracted muscle he let the other move a little higher up behind her knee and to her hamstring, but the touch didn't feel inappropriate. Satisfied, he told her to stand back up again, and while Sherry ushered the other wives to go back to bed he slowed the massage down incrementally, until a few minutes later his hands went still on her leg, applying just a little more pressure.

"How did you know what to do?" she asked softly, trying to fill the silence.

He seemed surprised by her question, but answered it nonetheless. "I've dealt with my share of overworked muscles, but this is down to your belly full of baby. Haven't you had leg cramps?"

"None like that."

"Were you scared?"

She looked down at him, feeling like she was in a parallel universe. "Yeah."

"You looked it." Letting go of her leg he rubbed his palm up and down one last time, looking dissatisfied. "There's still a knot there. You're gonna need to work it. Gently."

With that he got to his feet, and the way he unintentionally towered over her was a stark reminder that although he had just relieved the worst agony she had ever felt, he was still a monster. She said nothing as he slipped past her and made his way to the bedroom door, but he wasn't leaving. Instead he pushed the bed aside to clear a path for her and then ushered her to start walking.

She trembled when she took her first step, and though she could easily bear weight she felt the muscle straining when she tried to take the next stride. With a stifled gasp she grabbed at the bed frame to steady herself, flinching when she felt some discomfort, but Negan's reaction was markedly different. His body language changed, and as he flexed his shoulders back he turned on the spot to face away from her.

"Fuck!"

The volume of his shout made her jump, her heart beginning to race as she instinctually with recoiled back against the wall. But to her disbelief when he turned back to face her he had softened once again, giving no acknowledgement of his sudden change of demeanour.

"Try again," he said lightly, ushering her towards the bedroom door. "Smaller steps this time."

Not wanting to anger him she did as instructed, and although she felt no pain she was highly conscious of her calf muscle. It felt tender as she walked, a small ache reminding her of its distress with every step she took. At Negan's instruction she made her way out into the corridor of bedrooms and walked the length of it, and as she shuffled along the carpeted floor she tried to make sense of his seemingly unprovoked outburst. Thinking back to what Wilson had told her she wondered if perhaps Negan had been just as scared as she was…her health and her baby were his responsibility for as long as he kept her there. If something terrible happened to her under his care, then all efforts to create smooth waters between the Saviours and Alexandria would be for naught.

"You're going to need to work it," he instructed her again when she returned to the end of the corridor. "Tomorrow morning do some stretches and take a walk. Have Frankie massage it for you, she knows what she's doing. She'll get rid of that knot still there."

"Okay," she murmured, and then despite everything this man had done to her and Alexandria, gratitude came slipping from her lips before she could think twice. "Thank you."

Negan blinked at this, just as surprised as she was. He narrowed his eyes and leant down to her, getting into her personal space. "Don't say that shit too loud," he warned. "I've got a fucking reputation to maintain. Can't have prisoners like you thanking me."

She nodded, holding her breath. "Okay."

He withdrew as quickly as he had leant in, and despite his former kindness he now looked genuinely unhappy once more. "Go back to fucking bed," he said sharply, leaving her there in the middle of the corridor as he departed. "If I get woken up again, it better be with lips on my dick."

When the door closed behind him Carrie stood there a few moments, and although she was wide awake she was still struggling to comprehend what had happened to her. She looked down at her body, tilting her head to see her calf, but it was hidden beneath her sweats. For a little while she stood there shellshocked, and too awake to go back to sleep she shuffled back into her bedroom and collected a change of clothes and her towel. She had been sweating profusely when it happened, and now it had dried on her skin, her tank top feeling a little damp.

Her calf felt strained with every step, yet it felt good to be moving it a little. In the bathroom she locked herself into a cubicle and then turned to the large tank of water they used for showering, glad to see there was some left. It was frigid cold, warm water only being provided for them twice a day at scheduled times, but nonetheless she used it to clean herself up a little. When she stripped naked and stepped under the slow stream of water she suddenly took note of what she had been wearing, that she had been standing before Negan in nothing but a tank top and sweat pants. Her top was stretched to its limit, barely covering the entirety of her belly, but Negan had seemed to be paying no attention to her body. Not once had she felt his eyes where they shouldn't be, not once had she seen him trying to glimpse down at her cleavage.

It was so strange to think about the lines he had drawn with her, that when it came to his people respect and consent was genuinely important to him…and he really did think he had the genuine consent of the woman who called themselves his wives. Was he blind to the position these women were in, or did he just not want to admit what he did to them?

Having freshened up a little she hastily dried off and then redressed, her movements slow and methodical when it came to walking. When she stepped out into the corridor she found a light illuminated in the living area, taken aback by the sight of Negan sprawled out on one of their leather chairs. A glass of whiskey dangled from his fingertips, his feet resting on the coffee table, and when she came out he made a point of looking around at her. It seemed he had been waiting for her to come out, though it didn't mean he was pleased to see her.

"I thought I told you to go the fuck to bed."

His tone was dark, no hint of menacing playfulness or amusement. Not knowing what else to do Carrie quickly averted her eyes and then shuffled straight across the hall and into her bedroom, and as soon as she was out of his line of sight she dumped her towel and clothing in her haste to close the door. Unnerved by his presence out there she stood at the door with her hand poised on the handle, one hand pressed against the door as if she stood any chance of stopping him should he try to come in. For what felt like forever she stood there braced against the door, listening intently for the sound of the main door, and only when she heard it open and close did she allow herself to let her guard down.

What had he been doing out there? Was he just trying to mess with her head because she hadn't gone straight back to bed at his instructions? Trying to settle her nerves she went about hanging up her towel and putting her clothes into her laundry bag, fussing around for a few minutes. The baby too had settled by now, but whatever position it had taken inside her was most uncomfortable, and she could feel an annoying pressure in her lower back.

When she finally sank back into bed and turned off the light, Carrie knew that she wasn't going to easily find sleep again.

* * *

A/N I hope you enjoyed a little glimpse into Carrie's life in the Sanctuary - more on that to come next chapter!

Just checking in with my readers - the number of chapter views has gone down, and so too has reviews (with exception of my 'every chapter' reviewers). Are some readers just needing a TWD break following season 8, or has the story become less enjoyable as the chapters go on? Please feel free to drop me a review or private message if there's anything you feel I ought to know and take on board.

Thanks again to my reviewers, I'm very grateful for the feedback and your enthusiasm! Next chapter is among my favourite peaks into life at the Sanctuary!


	53. Chapter 53

A/N Thank you so much for the response to my query at the end of the last chapter, I really appreciate the feedback, and also the reassurances that chapter reads may have dropped because of summer and end of the school year.

 **Lilsuccubus** \- I wasn't able to respond to your last review, but you're totally getting into Negan's mindset! Negan sure regrets his impulse decision to snatch Carrie, but he's also feeling attached/attracted to her because she and Rick may represent small parts of what he wants for himself. There will be more Negan and Carrie interactions, and more on that topic in later chapters too!

* * *

Wednesday, March 4

That morning when Carrie awoke, she made no effort to get herself out of bed. Already she had overslept, it was after eight o'clock now, and Daryl would have been hauled out of his cell over an hour ago. She had missed her opportunity to see him that morning, to bring him extra food and water, and she felt terrible for sleeping through it. The guilt is what compelled her to stay in bed a little longer, as did the lack of motivation to do anything other than lay there and wallow. She didn't have it in her to face another day, to hold her head up high and keep going…what was she even doing any of that for? Everything felt completely hopeless that morning.

Outside her room she could hear the wives stirring, the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing reminding her that she needed to pee, that she had bene holding it since she awoke. In the living area she heard Jade pleading with the coffee machine to hurry, while Amber was bemoaning the delay in their breakfast delivery. Hating all of them Carrie simply closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep, though she knew her efforts would be for naut. The need to pee was so uncomfortable, as was the baby moving around insider her like she was their own personal play gym. Trying to make it stop she pressed her hand firmly against her belly, not holding back about it.

When there was a small knock at the door she ignored it, hoping that whoever it was would go away and leave her in peace. But it was wishful thinking, and after knocking a second time and receiving no answer the door knob slowly turned. Someone was creeping in, and making a point of the fact she had not invited them in she raised her head and looked at the intruder. It was Tanya, her long silk robe and perfectly smoothed hair a reminder of the fact that these wives rarely looked less than perfect, even first thing in the morning.

"Sorry to wake you," Tanya apologised as she crept inside. In her hands she held a bottle of orange Gatorade and a green pill container, both of which she set down onto the sideboard with her prenatal vitamins. "We have other flavours if you don't like the orange."

"Thanks," she said awkwardly, looking at the Gatorade and pills, the label of which she could not see. "What are they for?"

"They're from Negan. He asked me to bring them to you," she explained, straightening her robe. "He said you need electrolytes and magnesium to help prevent more muscle cramps. He also asked me to remind you to go for a walk this morning. You can even go outside."

"Sure," she muttered, laying back down into the pillows and hoping Tanya would leave.

She lingered awkwardly, having something else to say. "Is the orange flavour okay?"

"It's fine. Thanks Tanya."

"Well…why don't I ask Frankie to check your leg for you?" she offered, approaching the other side of the bed. "Negan said there was still a knot in your calf. She's a massage therapist, so I-"

"I'm okay, thanks."

Seeing that she was undeterred Carrie threw back her blankets and pushed herself up, lingering on the edge of the bed before pushing herself upright. It felt particularly strenuous today, and she practically had to catch her breath when she stood, though to her relief she could easily bear weight on her right leg. It was sore when she started to walk, the muscle feeling tight and strained with every step, but she was alright.

"Really, I'm fine," she repeated, slowly shuffling past her towards the door. "Thanks."

Hoping there was no one else in the bathroom she slipped across the hall and entered, annoyed to find that it was occupied. Bridgette was standing at one of the two sinks brushing her teeth, while Amber sat at one of the make up stations looking woefully into the mirror, scrutinising the shadows beneath her eyes. There was no avoiding them, the wives were always nice and accommodating to her, and so despite wanting to never see them again Carrie forced herself to return their pleasant greetings.

In the privacy of the toilet cubicle she lingered longer than necessary to relieve herself, simply sitting there with her hands on her belly. She felt different, for the pressure she had initially thought was just her poor squashed bladder had not eased up, and the hard lump of her baby's head was no longer in the usual place below her ribs. Not daring to get her hopes up she pressed around on her belly to try and find it, unable to feel anything in particular. Was it just tightly curled up, the head having finally moved out from beneath her diaphragm?

Slowly rising to her feet she continued exploring her belly, trying to figure out what was happening. Yesterday she had noticed the pressure below her ribs had eased, that it felt a little easier to catch her breath during a brisk walk, but that was about the only change. She was still large and uncomfortable, but this new pressure in her pelvis made her feel like the baby was going to fall out of her at any moment…she definitely felt different. Increasingly curious she reached under her belly and pressed, but the only thing she could feel was her pubic bone, not the baby.

When she came out from the cubicle she washed her hands at the sink, looking up at herself in the mirror with the same woe that Amber did. She looked terrible, dark shadows lingering under her eyes, her skin pale and dry. Nevertheless she did nothing about it, didn't brush her teeth or comb her hair, but simply washed her hands and then left. She wanted to turn side on and lift her shirt, to see if there was a noticeable change in her belly, but with Amber still there at the make up station she had to refrain.

"I sure hope you're feeling better," Amber said sweetly, dabbing foundation onto her nose and tilting her head to get better light. "We were all so worried last night."

Carrie held her tongue, for although Bambi drove her nuts she did seem to mean well. "Thanks Amber. I'm feeling better."

"We're all wearing pink today," she added, calling to her as she left. "You know, because it's Wednesday…Mean Girls. Do you have anything pink?"

"No, but thanks for the heads up," she forced herself to say, managing to make it sound polite.

As she crossed the hall she looked into the living room where all the wives were crowded around a cart laden with breakfast food, serving themselves cereal with fresh milk, fruit and croissants. It was tempting to join them, she was hungry after all, but instead she returned to her room without incident. She didn't have it in her today to face the world, especially when she saw that they were all indeed wearing pink. Her leg was tender, she was emotionally and physically spent, and she didn't have time to wear fucking pink. What happened last night had been terrifying, and even after it was all over and she returned to bed she had struggled to go back to sleep…all she wanted to do was close her eyes and not think about anything.

When she settled back into bed she arranged her pillows just as she needed them, again putting the biggest behind her back so that it felt like Rick might be there. In her fist she clutched the Sheriff onesie, hidden beneath the blankets lest anyone else barge in without invitation. She lay there in bed for another hour still trying to feel the baby's position, but as if it had finally gone to sleep it lay still inside her, only a few flutters of movement keeping her company.

It was late morning by now, and although she had made another appearance to go to the bathroom and grab a croissant she had returned to her room. There was plenty of things she could be occupying her time with today, she could be down in the laundry helping the workers or trying to find Daryl, but still she could not bring herself to face the world. Instead she did what she felt was exactly what she needed to do, staying curled up in bed with a book she had borrowed from the library. All she wanted to do was pass the time until night fell again, the time at which Daryl would be returned to his cell and she could go to see him. She would apologise for sleeping through the morning, would try to find him food that would slip under the door other than bread. Perhaps soup or some stew? She could put it into a zip lock bag and slip it under, and he could drink it straight from the bag. Twenty two made some pretty decent stews, and he usually gave her an extra serving or two…no one would be surprised if she outright asked for two servings, especially not after she ploughed through three pudding cups in one evening.

There came a polite knock at the door, and though she wasn't particularly engrossed in her book the interruption was most unwelcome. She could hear someone calling her name, and it was with great reluctance that she told them to come in.

"Yeah?"

It was Tanya again, opening the door just enough to peek inside at her. "Are you decent?"

"Not really."

"But you're dressed?"

"Yes. What is it?"

"Ummm," she began apologetically, looking back out into the corridor. "Someone's here to-"

The bedroom door burst open without warning, and when Negan came barging in Carrie yelped in surprise. For a brief moment she was reminded of Rick and the way he would go charging into Carl's bedroom on the mornings that he bemoaned getting out of bed. He'd go in there shouting, drawing the curtains back and yanking the comforter from the bed. Though sometimes he was annoyed with Carl's laziness most often it was all a bit of fun…Negan barging into her room felt nothing like that. She dropped her book and scrambled to grab the bedsheets, for though she was dressed she felt the need to cover herself.

"Good morning, Sunshine!" he said loudly, stepping inside with a great flourish. In his left hand he carried Lucille, twirling her around in his hand as he looked at her with a wide smirk. "You're damn lucky I can say that, because it's almost fucking midday."

"What the hell are you doing?" she exclaimed in outrage, pushing herself up and shuffling to the opposite side of the bed. His presence always seemed to suck all the air out of a room, so assertive and powerful that he dominated every space he entered.

"No, the fucking question is what the hell are you doing?" he questioned, though his tone was light hearted and jovial. "It's ten thirty."

She gaped at him. "S-so?"

He looked at her in delight, but as he chuckled to himself his tone and body language took on a sinister feel similar to last night. "Am I one fry short of a Happy Meal?" he questioned, looking through the doorway to where there were wives surely listening in. "Is there a village out there looking for its idiot?"

"The hell are you talking about?"

Turning back to her now he was genuinely pissed, and he lowered Lucille to his side as he took a step closer to her bed. "Either the wheel is spinning but the hamster's dead, or did I tell you to drink that Gatorade, eat your supplements and take a damn walk?"

She looked at him in disbelief, outraged that he had come barging in telling her what to do, but she was very much aware of her place at the Sanctuary. If Negan wanted to tell her what to do, then he could do it. She was in no position to argue about anything.

"Okay," she said quietly, stopping short of apologising. "I'm getting up."

"Then let's fucking see it," he ordered. "And show me your leg, I wanna see that knot again."

She sat there awkwardly, still holding the blankets up to her chest. "Can you turn around? Please," she added.

Though he made a grand show of it, Negan turned around and faced the opposite corner, granting her a slither of privacy. Never turning her back on him, though she didn't know what she expected him to do, she shuffled out of bed and stuffed the onesie under her pillow, not wanting him to see it. As she got up she tried to straighten her clothes, tugging her tank top over her belly before reaching for her sweatshirt at the end of the bed. She had taken this from Alexandria's Pantry a month ago, and at three sizes too big it comfortably covered her whole belly.

"You can turn around now."

He did so with a flourish, pulling a face of dismay when he saw the shirt she was wearing. "I bet you weren't wearing that sack when good ol' Rick had his way with you nine months ago," he joked, looking at it in disappointment. "It does nothing for your figure."

"It's not supposed to," she muttered, self consciously trying to neaten her hair before reaching for her trainers on the chair by the bed.

She sat down and put herself through the arduous task of putting her shoes on, a task made all the more uncomfortable by the way Negan lingered there in her room, watching her every move. She could barely bring her foot up onto the opposite knee, and it was almost impossible to tie the laces, but she forced herself to persevere and succeed, not wanting to give Negan any ideas about helping. She got the feeling that were she anyone else he would have offered, a feeling supported by the way he kept watching in interest, a hint of concern having now returned to his demeanour. He was chaotic with the way he so quickly switched gears, one moment going to great lengths to help her, and then the next turning cold and angry. There was no way to keep up with him, and she didn't bother trying.

Not being let off the hook, she had no choice but to allow him to crouch down at her feet and put his hands on her leg. He pushed her leggings up to the knee and then gently began pressing his fingers into the muscle, the tenderness she felt making her wince a little. For a moment she thought back to what happened last night, to the excruciating pain made all the worse by her state of semi-delirious confusion. Had she not been half asleep it wouldn't have felt so terrifying.

"There's still a knot there," he said, getting back to his feet then picking up Lucille again. "Have Frankie massage it. And then…"

Getting the hint, she played along. "Drink the gatorade and go for a walk."

"You can even go outside. And take your pills too," he added. "You're probably lacking magnesium."

"Okay," she agreed.

"I've told Carson to expect you at his office stat," he ordered, swinging Lucille over his shoulder and then finally departing. "He's waiting for you as we speak."

When he was finally gone Carrie breathed an enormous sight of relief, grateful that the encounter was over. Not letting her guard down yet she stood there and waited for him to go, listening carefully as he reminded Frankie to massage her leg. But to her dismay he didn't immediately leave, her heart filled with dread when she saw his shadow growing closer on the corridor wall. He was coming back now, and she hated to think about what he might want from her. Was it Daryl? Was someone finally going to confront her about what she had been going for him?

Reappearing in her doorway Negan gave her a warm smile, leaning casually against the door frame. Using one finger he ushered her to come over, waiting patiently as she slowly and reluctantly approached. She was holding her breath, her body tensing up as he encouraged her closer and closer again. Unable to refuse she did exactly as he asked, hating the way he seemed to enjoy getting in her personal space.

"What?" she murmured, trying not to sound rude.

His breath was hot on her ear when he spoke. "Why the fucking fuck are they all wearing pink?"

* * *

"For someone who's not a doctor, Wilson sure knew what he was doing," Carson praised, turning the computer screen around so that Carrie could see it. "Baby is anterior, and head down."

As the news sank in Carrie closed her eyes, silently uttering a prayer of thanks. The relief was enormous, taking months of stress and worry from her shoulders. The baby's poor position had been the entire reason she had gone in the RV the day they left Alexandria, why she had risked it all. Even after everything that had happened to her group and to her, did this mean that risk had paid off? Would the baby have turned without intervention from not a doctor, Doctor Wilson?

"What you're feeling there above your pubic bone is the baby's shoulders. Seems to me that the head is fully engaged."

"Fully engaged," she murmured, sitting up and fixing her shirt. "That means it's nearly ready to be born, right?"

Carson nodded, tidying up and putting the ultrasound away. "It's good news."

Like with many other things in this world, her good news was tainted by a slither of dread. This was both good news and bad. "How long do you think I have left?"

"Oh, difficult to say," he began conversationally, and before he said it she knew what he was going to say next. "Particularly when you won't let me do an internal examination."

She grit her teeth at the mention of this, but she said nothing. Her refusal to allow him to do an internal examination seemed to be grating on his nerves, making her think he had taken it as a personal slight against his professionalism or capabilities. But she had said no, and she was standing by that decision. Maybe she would change her mind in a few days, but for now she did not want a stranger performing an invasive procedure like that, even if it was over and done with in two minutes.

Her appointment having finished she got down from the examination table and prepared to leave, collecting her new jacket and putting it on. While Frankie had been massaging her calf the other wives had presented her with a gift, a pale pink denim jacket, one that she couldn't refuse without looking like a Grade A Bitch. So she accepted the gift graciously, pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't so bad after all. It absolutely would not go around her belly, but was large enough that it would be forgiving in the months that followed the birth. Today she wore pink, just like Negan's wives.

"Wilson will be glad to see the adjustment worked," she said, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence that lapsed.

Carson nodded, writing some notes for the file he was keeping. "Mmmm, yes. I'll make sure he's informed."

She stopped at this, frowning. "I can tell him myself at three o'clock."

"Oh, I don't know," Carson said dismissively, sparing her a glance. "He's on a day trip to one of the outposts. Negan will likely have him stay there now that he's no longer needed here."

Disappointed crushed her too brief elation. Although they had only discussed his true allegiance to the Kingdom once, it had left her feeling like she and Daryl weren't completely alone here, that there was someone on their side who cared. Wilson wanted to help, he wanted to get them out of there…he was their only connection to the world outside these damn concrete walls.

"I was hoping I could see him again," she said tentatively. "The adjustments were helping."

There was silence, Carson in no rush to address her concerns. "I'll put in a good word with Negan, but I wouldn't hold your breath," he concluded, closing her file and finally turning to look at her properly. "You still don't want to know the baby's gender?

 _Yes_ _,_ she screamed on the inside. "No. Thanks," she answered. Rick wanted it to be a surprise for them, and she knew that finding out before him would ruin it for her too.

"Well I've identified the gender. You'll be pleased to know that all reproductive organs are present and as expected."

"Thanks."

"That's all."

Without another word Carson turned away, bustling around with his paperwork and files. His dismissal of her duly noted, she took her scarf from the chair and slung it around her neck, exiting the office as quickly as she could. Though he had treated her with kindness and respect he was like Negan in the way he so quickly changed his demeanour, going from a polite and professional doctor to one who was cold and aloof.

"How did it all go?" Tanya asked cheerfully, having been waiting outside for her.

"It was fine," she said shortly, not wanting to get into it. But when she took a moment to straighten the collar of her jacket she reconsidered, remembering how kind Tanya and the wives were being. "The baby turned over. It's good."

Tanya's face lit up, and her joy seemed genuine. "That's great news. Must be a weight off your shoulders," she commented. "You even look like you're walking better."

Though she was still keeping her pace slow and gentle, Carrie had to agree. "I think Frankie's massage helped."

Moaning, Tanya briefly closed her eyes in exaltation. "Frankie does wonderful things with those hands. Speaking of wonderful things, I'm making slow roasted pork belly. Wanna come hang out in the kitchen?"

"Pork belly? What's the occasion?"

"I have a date with Negan tonight," she said nonchalantly. "He likes it when I cook."

Carrie faltered, fumbling over her words a little. "Oh. That's nice of you."

Tanya seemed to laugh under her breath, not offended by Carrie's discomfort. "Come on, hang out with me in the kitchen today. You can watch me bossing people around, and I'll let you taste test for me."

Considering the offer and knowing there were worse ways she could pass the time, Carrie hesitated a little. Today she had been given free roam of the Sanctuary, Negan himself telling her to take a walk anywhere she pleased, even outside. There were things she needed to do, information to seek out, and today was her best opportunity to do that.

"I think I might keep walking for a while longer," she said lightly. "If I sit down I'll never get up again. Can I come by a little later?"

"Sure," she nodded eagerly, glad she was coming. "I'll set aside some chocolate mousse for you to taste test."

Parting ways with Tanya she simply got on with her do, doing exactly as Negan had instructed. Taking her time she made her way through the Sanctuary, starting first at the marketplace. Everywhere along the way people were stopping to ask if she was okay, if she needed help getting down the stairs, but she politely declined every offer. Word must have gotten out about what happened last night, for though it wasn't unusual for everyone to look at her in curiosity, their interest seemed even greater today. Trying to ignore them she focused on herself and the baby, feeling surprisingly paranoid about what was going on down there between her legs. She kept wanting to stop and investigate, the pressure between her legs making her feel like the baby was already coming…it really was the strangest feeling.

Downstairs at the marketplace she leisurely browsed the many stalls, keeping her head down but her eyes raised. David, Norris and two others whose names she couldn't recall were cutting the lunch line at number Twenty Two's stall, and she briefly entertained the idea of cutting in front of them. She knew she would get away with it, that even going to line up would see her being ushered to the front of the line, ahead of even Negan's men. The first time it happened had been when David was next, and the strained expression on his face when he realised she was cutting was almost comical. But he hadn't been able to protest, not when there was the unspoken understanding that when it came to food and creature comforts she outranked everyone.

Resisting the urge to exercise a little power play, or as Negan would put it, swing her lady dick around, Carrie continued browsing. She was trying to be subtle about it, to determine which of Negan's soldiers were down there at the marketplace and who were not. Arat was prowling the upper platform while she ate, glowering down at them all as if they had personally offended her, whereas Dwight and Laura were nowhere to be seen. They could be anywhere, they might not even be at the Sanctuary, but her uncertainty discouraged her from the tentative notion of trying to access their rooms.

"You can take a picture. It'll last longer."

The snide comment brought her back down to the present, and when she saw the disdainful look number Sixteen was giving her she realised she had been standing there motionless. A quick glance over her shoulder reminded her that there were other people in line, some of them trying to peer past her.

"You buying, or gawking?"

"Sorry," she apologised, hastily turning her attention to the items for sale. Stationary, batteries, knitted scarves, hair product and toiletries, none of which she needed, and to her disgust a bed pan that may or may not have been used. Turning to the stationary she looked at number Sixteen from the corner of her eye, conscious that she hadn't quite forgiven her for buying back the daisy necklace that Laura had confiscated. Sixteen looked worn out and haggard, the world having taken its toll on her, as had life at the Sanctuary. Being one of the workers was more of an existence than a life.

"I'll take these," she decided, selecting a pocket notebook and pen. "The pen works?"

"Find out," Sixteen said impatiently, thrusting the ledger towards her.

It was always so poorly lit in this part of the marketplace, forcing her to crouch over the pages to properly see the lines she needed to complete. As she completed two entries, one for the pen and one for the notebook, she cringed when she completed her name as Alexandria. She hated that most people here didn't call her by her name, that they didn't care to know or remember. Then again, she wasn't the only one who had lost her name.

"So…what's your name?" she murmured softly, still completing her entry in the ledger.

Her question was first met with surprised silence. "Gloria."

"Nice to meet you, Gloria," she said, passing the ledger back so that she could inspect and approve the entry.

Gloria raised the ledger and brought it closer to see, her lined brow furrowed as she too tried to read in the poor light. "How's my daughter?" she enquired nonchalantly. "Amber."

 _Amber's mother lived here?_ "She's well. She gave me this jacket."

Gloria scrutinised her long and hard, her eyes darting up and down her attire, and then down to her belly. By now Carrie was used to it, for while her people back home in Alexandria were so used to seeing her they no longer stared, here at the Sanctuary people's eyes were practically magnetised to her belly. There was only one other pregnant woman here, a worker, but there seemed to be little interest in her.

"You'll need a teddy bear for your little… _blessing_ ," she said, choosing her words carefully. "May it never darken my doorstep."

As she spoke she turned back and reached into one of the baskets stacked high with knitting yarn, producing a hand knitted doll. The long arms and legs flailed about loosely, but the unassuming smile stitched onto its face was cute, as were the two brown patches over the eyes. She had a teddybear for her baby, one at home in the crib and one in the baby bag, but she took this thing and looked it over anyway.

"What is it?"

"You can call it a Gremblygunk," she suggested shortly, passing her the ledger again. "You can have it for…thirty points."

Carrie blinked, looking up in outrage. She scoffed, but nonetheless she took the ledger and began completing her details. "I'm not negotiating. You can take the cost up with Laura."

Gloria huffed in annoyance, snatching back the ledger. "They grow up so fast," she muttered under her breath, ushering Carrie aside. "Next."

Surprisingly pleased with her purchases, Carrie slipped the pen and notepad into her pocket and then looked at the so called Gremblygunk, feeling more and more endeared by it. She had been easy prey for the stall owners on her first day in the marketplace alone, and knowing she shopped with Negan's wallet they had gone in for the kill. They were all over her trying to sell things, guilting her into buying one little trinket and then another, completing her details in the ledger before eagerly giving it to her to sign. It hadn't taken long to draw Laura's attention who had quickly shut it down, telling her to buy only the things she wanted, which was difficult because there was barely a damn thing among the junk she wanted. Then again, given how frequently she had to pee the bedpan was taking on a new appeal.

Stopping by number Twenty Two she bought herself something to eat, her request for a second serving of stew in a ziplock bag going unquestioned. Either they assumed it was for her or they didn't care to know her business, she didn't mind either way. Not lingering in the marketplace any longer than necessary she ate the stew she had purchased and then left, making a stop at the nearest bathroom to relieve a now urgent need. With the Gremblygunk stuffed into her pocket and the bag of stew clenched between her teeth she peed in one of the downstairs restrooms, and when she carefully walked across the freshly mopped tiles to wash her hands she wondered if it was Daryl who had been in here cleaning, or another prisoner.

It was down to the basement cells that she went first, knowing she would find the door to his cell wide open. Since she had moved in with the wives his cell had been kept clean for him, and she already knew he had received at least one change of clothes. She had seen the sweatshirt with an orange A out drying in the sun, the sight of it a small reassurance. It was the bare minimum, but he at least had the dignity of a change of clothes and a cell that didn't stink of urine and vomit.

Going inside she set the bag of stew down into the far corner along with the three bags of water she had collected. Doing this was always a risk, for if Dwight came inside and turned his gaze left he would see what was hidden there, but so long as he simply sent Daryl in all would be well. Conscious of trying to keep it all hidden, she covered the food and water with the grey blankets she had scrounged up for him a few days ago. Neatly folded and carefully draped the blankets would go unnoticed by anyone simply casting their gaze through the open door. A quick sniff assured her they were both still clean enough for her satisfaction, which came to great relief. It had been tricky enough sneaking them down here in the first place let alone doing it a second time.

Keen to take advantage of Negan's instructions that she roam about freely she began exploring, for although she had familiarised herself with the Sanctuary she had largely stayed to the same areas. Today though she allowed herself to wander, turning left towards the unknown instead of right towards the familiar. Though it felt good to be exercising her leg and to feel her heart pumping every step she took was tinged with discomfort, for still she felt like she had something wedged between her legs. Forced to take it gently her progress around the Sanctuary was slow, and she dreaded the possibility that she might get lost down here and be stuck wandering around for hours.

Oh God…what if she couldn't find a bathroom?

Starting to regret her determination to wander, she tried to make the best of it. In the back of her mind was Wilson's instructions that she was to wait things out at the Sanctuary, that she not try to escape. Though she understood his logic, that any attempt on her part to escape would only escalate tensions between the Saviours and Alexandria, she couldn't completely write it off. To do nothing would mean abandoning Daryl here, and prolonging the risk that Negan wouldn't let her leave with enough time before the baby was born. Despite Wilson's assurances that it wouldn't happen she dreaded the slim possibility that the baby would be born here in his hell hole, that this would be where it took its first breath.

Wandering around her attention was captures by a door at the end of the corridor, one with a small square window that admitted some natural light into the otherwise dim basement level. Trying not to feel like she was creeping around where she shouldn't be, for after all Negan himself had told her to go for a walk, Carrie stood on the tips of her toes and peered through the square window to the world outside. There was nothing to see other than the insipid exterior of the wall opposite and the concrete ground, but it was sunny out there, and she could practically feel the warmth already. She found resistance when she twisted the door knob, but a swift shove of the door told her that it wasn't locked.

As she pushed the door open and stepped through she saw a small piece of cardboard fluttering to the ground, and it was then she realised why she couldn't turn the knob, that the latch had been wedged open to prevent it locking. She looked down at the piece of cardboard that had fallen to the ground, dreading the thought that she would have to pick it up lest she be locked out. It was so damn far down, and Judy wasn't there to pick things up that she couldn't reach. Bracing herself she slowly lowered herself to the ground, picked up the cardboard and then hauled herself back up, glad that there was no one to see her struggling against her own girth. Feeling immensely satisfied she placed the cardboard over the latch and allowed the door to close, confident she would be able to get back in.

Having paused a moment to catch her breath she finally looked around the drab courtyard, glad to feel the sun on her skin. The only times she had been outside was when the wives took her to their sundeck and when she was helping with the laundry, and though she had dragged her feet she couldn't exactly spend an hour hanging one load of laundry. Today though she was free to take her time, even if this place wasn't of much appeal. It was all concrete ground and steel panelled walls, but there on the opposite side was something that stood out, something so wildly out of place she couldn't possibly miss it.

Lined up alongside half a dozen others was Daryl's motorcycle, the one that Dwight had taken such pleasure in flaunting in front of him. Feeling nostalgic she remembered the day they had arrived at the prison on their supply run to Georgia, how happy Daryl was to find the motorcycle there waiting for him. She had ridden on it with him a few times, but motorcycles really were her thing. Perhaps she had never quite recovered from her first boyfriend Todd, who rode possibly the coolest dirt bike she had ever seen.

Today Carrie made her way over and touched the handlebars. It was so easy to picture Daryl on it, the motorcycle an extension of himself in the same way his crossbow was. But there wasn't even a moment to think about it, for all too quickly she heard the sound of someone approaching, saw their shadow growing on the wall in front of her.

"Hey! What you doing out here?"

Carrie's heart leapt into her throat as she whirled around, eyes falling on Fat Joey who seemed he outraged to see her out here. But before she could say anything in her own defence his body language softened, and then he gave her a sheepish smile.

"Sorry," he said apologetically, slowing to a stop a few yards away. "I didn't realise it was you."

"I'm allowed to be out here," she said quickly, guiltily taking a step away from the motorcycles. "Negan told me to take a walk."

His body language softening even more Joey laughed. "I know. I heard him ranting about you over the radio this morning. Said you were driving him _nucking futs_."

Realising he expected her to laugh she forced one out, feeling her heart beginning to ease itself out of her throat. Though Joey had never done anything to her she was conscious that although he wasn't one of Negan's top men, he wasn't a nobody either. She had seen him down in the basement corridors, had heard his voice during the days she was confined to a cell. He was complicit in the things that happened here, and despite his friendly smile he was not her friend.

"How's your leg?" he asked in concern. The initial tension of the encounter was gone now, and he was coming closer. "Is it still bothering you?"

"No, it's fine," she said cordially, and then before she knew it there was a hint of sweetness in her voice. "Thanks for asking, Joey."

It took a moment for her consciousness to catch up to what her mind had already figured out. Fat Joey was rather taken with her, she already suspected that from the shy why he had behaved in front of her that day in Negan's room, but until now she hadn't seen that shyness in any other light. Today it suddenly clicked that his fondness for her was an opportunity, a weakness she could exploit.

"What is it you're doing out here?" she enquired, feigning interest.

"I'm on watch."

"Really?" she questioned in surprise. "They put _you_ on watch?"

His expression fell a fraction. "What do you mean?"

"I just…I dunno," she shrugged, shyly averting her eyes. She touched her hands to her belly, drawing his attention there for a moment, and then she continued. "I thought they'd have you doing more important things than keepin' watch. Seems like a waste."

Though she hadn't been at all specific with her compliment, Joey seemed to take it as one, his former boyish smile returning to his face. "Uhhh, I'm actually being punished," he admitted. "I'm on watch out here for a week. It's dead ass boring."

"Oh," she commiserated, still touching her hands to her belly. He kept looking down at what she was doing, and moment by moment she could see him letting his guard down. "Did you do something really bad?"

Joey shrugged for a moment, scratching the back of his head. "I'm in charge of rerouting the Rotters away from the Sanctuary. Something went wrong yesterday, so they blame me."

"You're in charge of that? Sounds like a pretty big deal."

Flourishing under her feigned interest and praise, Joey let his guard down almost completely. "Yeah, it's a tough gig. Do you ever do things like that? Rerouting the dead?"

 _Yes!_ She had rerouted herds of Walkers three times.

"No," she shook her head, giving a disbelieving laugh. "No way. I…I'd be too scared to do that." Silence fell for a moment, and she quickly sought to fill it in. "Do you have to stay here all day?"

"No, I have a route around the fences. Do you-"

She intentionally cut him off, speaking over him and then awkwardly trailing off with a shy laugh. "Sorry," she apologised. "You go."

His cheeks were red now, and he seemed to stammer over his words a little. "Do you want me to…show you around?"

At this she widened her eyes a little, and now it was she who took a step towards him. "I was actually going to ask if you wouldn't mind showing me around," she smiled sweetly, looking him in the eye and holding his gaze. "That's real sweet of you, Joey."

For a moment he simply looked at her in nervous delight, perhaps unable to believe she'd taken him up on his offer. "It's no big deal. Come on, I'll…I'll show you around." No sooner had they fallen into step alongside one another did Joey stop in his tracks, his face falling as he looked at the door she had just come through. "Wait. You didn't come through that door, did you?"

"Um…yes."

"Oh no," he said lowly, despair contorting his features. "No…no."

"What's wrong?"

"My keys!" he exclaimed as he rushed over. "Shit…"

"It's okay," she said hurriedly. "I put the cardboard back."

When he came closer and saw that the cardboard was indeed wedged between the latch and the frame he visibly relaxed, his shoulders slackening as he breathed a sigh of relief. But Carrie felt not a slither of relief, her mood darkening when she saw Rick's prized Colt in the back of Joey's waistband. She had forgotten all about it, and seeing it again now was like a kick in the teeth.

"What happened to your keys?"

"I've lost them," he admitted quietly, taking a moment to recover from his brief fright. "I have no idea where they are, and if Negan finds out, then…well, you know. He's always going on about these things."

"It's too bad you lost them," she commiserated, trying to recover from the momentary anger of seeing Rick's gun.

It seemed she had said the wrong thing, for all of a sudden Joey was looking at her mistrustfully. His body language was changing, and when he jutted his chin out and took a deep breath she could feel her earlier progress slipping from her fingers.

"Yeah, I lost my keys," he said roughly, his expression having become accusatory. "So if that's what you want from me you should just go back upstairs to all them other bitches."

Carrie blinked at him, not having to feign her astonishment. It hadn't yet occurred to her that Joey was trusted enough to carry a set of keys, but now that she knew he normally did she was even more determined to win his trust. It was only too easy for her to manipulate him, and she quickly matched his change by closing off her body language and lowering her gaze.

"That's not why I was talking to you," she said softly, making sure she sounded upset. "You seemed nice…that's all."

There was an awkward silence, but Carrie resisted the urge to look up at him and instead held her ground. She took a tentative step backward, pretending to nervously touch her hair while she waited…and then he did exactly what she wanted.

"I'm sorry," he apologised sincerely, his voice softening once again. "It's just…ladies like you don't usually talk to guys like me."

 _You mean slack jawed knuckle dragging morons? Yeah, we don't._

"I'm really sorry."

Finally she looked up, giving a small nod to acknowledge his apology, but then she pushed things a little further. "M-maybe I should just go," she said tentatively. "I didn't want to upset you."

"No, it's okay," he insisted, quickly apologising again. "Come on, I'll show you around. It'll be nice to have someone to talk to."

She pretended to hesitate, but only for a moment. "Well, that's all I wanted. You don't seem like the other guys here. You're different."

At this Joey smiled, and in that instant Carrie knew she had completely won him over.

They spent two hours walking the fences that surrounded the Sanctuary, and with Negan's orders that she be allowed outside combined with Joey's company no one had given her a second glance. Though she could only walk at a gentle pace that had made it around the exterior of the Sanctuary three times, and with each lap she began to better familiarise herself with it. She knew every road leading in, she knew every gate and every place from which someone would be on watch, both inside and outside the Sanctuary. Though Lana had already given them a great deal of information about the Sanctuary and how it worked, seeing it all in person was what Carrie needed to properly gauge what she was up against.

If she and Daryl were to escape she knew exactly how they would do it, exactly where they could walk straight through an unlocked gate to their freedom. This was it, this was their escape plan, and she would need Joey to be the one on watch to make it happen. He had another six days of his punishment to endure, a six day window in which that courtyard with the motorbikes would be without a guard…that might be their only opportunity.

But her time spent with Joey that day had reminded her of another obstacle, one that she hadn't quite managed to find a solution for…until now.

Her need to pee was desperate by now, she and Joey had only stopped once to allow her to slip back inside and find a restroom, but she forced herself to ignore this need for as long as possible. She had one opportunity to seize a solution, and she absolutely could not afford to miss it.

Carl was the one who inspired this idea, notorious for leaving junk in the pockets of his pants. Rick was far better at emptying his pockets at the end of the day, joking that Lori had spent sixteen years beating him into submission, but it hadn't yet rubbed off onto Carl. He was constantly leaving things in his pockets, and when it was her turn to put on a load of laundry she always braced herself for what she was going to find. Coins that were worthless, two Hershey's Kisses she had kept for herself, and once even a pebble shaped like a penis that now had pride of place on the shelf in Carl's bedroom.

Was Joey the same? Was he in the habit of leaving things in his pockets?

When she reached the laundry she slowed to a stop and paused, listening outside the door to see if anyone was in. It was approaching three o'clock in the afternoon, and by now the laundry workers had usually finished for the day. They were speedy and efficient, a well oiled machine that allowed them to get through a great deal of laundry and be finished by mid-afternoon. Clothes would be hung outside and brought in the next day, always taking a while to dry in the cooler weather, but for the most part they ought to be gone by now.

Hearing no sounds of life from inside Carrie went inside, confident that they wouldn't question her sudden arrival here. To her relief the enormous room was completely empty of people, and so she closed the door behind her and rushed straight to the drying courtyard outside. There she was met with line after line of clean laundry left to dry overnight, the items grouped together and their ownership marked by the white linen laundry bag that hung with them. Tomorrow when the workers came in they would take these clothes down, fold them and repack them into the linen bag that had also been laundered, ready to be returned to their owners.

The baby was kicking up a fuss now, but Carrie didn't have time to revel in the newfound changes, to appreciate that its feet were kicking her ribs now that it had turned over. Instead she was focused on the laundry set out to dry. Making her way down the various lines she craned her neck to try and identify the clothing or the names on the bags, but it was difficult to see given they were so high up from the ground, the only height at which they could catch a decent breeze. Finally sourcing clothing that looked big enough to belong to Joey she narrowed her eyes and tried to make out the name on the white linen bag.

Fat Joey.

High with excitement she rushed over to the wall of the courtyard, finding the lever which would lower each washing line to a height at which she could reach the clothing. Not caring that half of the laundry now dragged on the ground she went back to the clothing that belonging to Joey, her heart racing when she looked at his jeans and sent up a silent prayer to whoever might be listening. Desperate for some good news she reached into the right hand pocket, the denim still damp, and withdrew a set of keys.

A dozen or so keys on the circular key ring clinked together, but it was to the retractable belt clip that she paid attention to. Carved into the plastic was Fat Joey.

* * *

A/N I hope you enjoyed a deeper look into the Sanctuary life, and Carrie's efforts to manipulate Joey to her own advantage. Even though it would be safer for her to let Negan take her home at his discretion, if she gets the chance to save Daryl too she's going to take it!

Would love to know what you think of the chapter. Also, how do we all feel about the rumours of Andrew Lincoln's departure in Season 9A?


	54. Chapter 54

A/N I am damn sorry about the missed update from last weekend, but work has been horrendously awful and I've been unwell too. Wanted to spend this whole weekend writing and recovering from work, but could barely get a page done - nevertheless chapter 54 is finished for you. Hope you enjoy :-)

* * *

Thursday, March 5

Helping Judith with her sneakers Carl shoved one onto her foot and twisted it this way and that, working it over the thick sock that would keep her toes warm. He worried that he was being too rough, but she gave no protest, too excited by the prospect of getting out of the house and spending time with Olivia. When the sneaker was finally on he squeezed the end to test how much room she had, having seen his dad doing this on more than one occasion, his test usually followed by complaints of how quickly she had grown. But there was plenty of room, and they seemed comfortable when she got up and rushed towards Olivia.

"Don't forget your coat, silly," Olivia said playfully, sending her back to Carl. "You'll turn into a popsicle without your coat."

The usual argument ensued, Judith protesting heartily as he wrangled her arms into the puffer jacket Carrie had found on a run many months ago, and to be honest he couldn't blame her for not wanting to put it on. She looked ridiculous in it, the long sleeves engulfing her hands, but he knew she was protesting only because she could.

"You're wearing it," he said sternly, unaffected by her efforts to actually shed a genuine tear. "If you don't wear your jacket then you're staying inside all day. Got it?"

He could feel the bite of impatience in his voice, impatience that was only confounded by the sharp way he zipped her up, and then the rush of guilt hit him. She was looking at him glumly, realising he was cross with her, and he hated to see that look on her face. Kneeling there before his little sister he took a deep breath, making himself smile at her before pressing a wet, noisy kiss onto her cheek.

"All better now," he said cheerfully, putting a beanie on her head and tucking it over her ears. He kissed her on the other cheek and then gave her a tight hug, his heart aching as he tried not to think about what he was about to do…what he _had_ to do. "You be a good girl for Olivia. Stay off the stairs, and don't touch the pantry shelves."

Judy giggled at him mischievously, but he had no doubt that she'd be well behaved for Olivia, that she never stepped a toe out of line for her babysitters. Already she was rushing out of the house without second thought, leaving Olivia to collect her back pack.

"I love you Judy.

" _Luff you_ ," she replied, but she didn't look back. Her attention was focused on the railing above her, and she hung onto it as she carefully went down the front steps. When she reached the pavement she called out to Olivia, telling her to hurry up.

"Always nice to know she'll miss you," Olivia joked as she waved goodbye. "I'll bring her back around three."

"Thanks," he said sincerely, breathing a sigh of relief when they were both gone. For a few moments he stood there at the closed door, not quite knowing what to do…was he really going to go through with his plan?

It had been four days since his dad and Michonne had left Alexandria, confident that the Saviours were no longer laying in wait to harass and incite them. With Dianne's reassurances they had decided to go to the Hilltop to see Lana and meet with Gregory, and his dad had planned to come home the very next day…that had been Sunday. They had talked about trying to do some scavenging while they were out, maybe stopping at the Kingdom to receive some supplies from them to offer as their next tribute, but after four days Carl was feeling appropriately worried for them. They could be stuck somewhere, waiting for help that wasn't coming…they could be dead already.

Since Negan and the Saviours had visited, things had changed again. Tara had been a near constant presence, going back and forth between him and Judith to Maggie and Herschel, ignoring her own grief and trying to hold all of them together. Carl wasn't cruel enough to tell her that her efforts were a poor bandaid, that what she was doing made no difference to any of them. Helping out with Herschel wasn't going to bring Glenn back from the grave they'd buried him in, and making Judith dinner wasn't going to bring Carrie home. Tara's efforts were useless, making no difference to the shit situation they were all in.

Carl on the other hand…he had been entertaining an idea that was equal parts heroic and stupid.

The general consensus for now was to sit tight, to jump through the hoops and appease Negan in the hope that he would pity them enough to free Carrie and Daryl. None of the communities would make any kind of move until Carrie and Daryl were safe, or at the very least until Carrie was safe. But Negan was volatile, and the way he enjoyed taunting them had Carl worried. Was he ever going to give Carrie back? People were dying faster than they could grieve for them. Denise, Glenn, Abraham, Richard and Benjamin…what if it was Carrie who was next?

In his more thoughtful moments Carl was almost certain that Negan wouldn't hurt her, that to do so would incite backlash from Alexandria. Negan needed her too much to kill her, right? It's why he had stopped his dad was cutting his arm off, because he didn't want to push him too far over the edge. Killing Carrie would be a mistake, one that Negan was sure to err on the side of caution for, but did that mean she was never coming home? If Negan really wasn't come back to Alexandria until two weeks had passed, then she might have had the baby already, it might be too late.

This thought made him feel antsy and restless, and so he turned and went upstairs to his bedroom. _She can give birth on the floor of her cell like a barn animal_. That's what Negan had said to them the day he came to Alexandria, a warning for what would happen if they didn't impress him with their next tribute, and the thought that he might actually do that to her was frightening. Against his will he began to picture it in his mind, Carrie writhing in pain on the floor of a dark cell, and it drew his mind back to the day Judy was born. He never thought that type of thing would happen ever again, that what happened to his mom was so terrible he'd never have to see that a second time. Trapped and surrounded by Walkers she had been terrified by the thought of giving birth there, and then she died. Now that was the reality that Carrie might be facing.

If that happened and she died Carl didn't want to think about what that would do to their family. Judy didn't deserve to lose another mom, and she was still asking about her, wondering when she was coming home. And his dad…Carl didn't think he'd be able to cope of something happened to her or the baby. He would fall to pieces again just like he had before, and he wouldn't be able to fight the war that had to come.

It was the image of Carrie giving birth alone on the floor of a cell that was the final straw, compelling him to do something. The risks were huge, but if he caught Negan in the right mood this plan would allow him to save Carrie and the baby before anything else happened to them. Negan seemed to like him, and though he had rejected the idea of him taking Carrie's place at the Sanctuary at the very least it was worth another shot. There was no telling when his dad would be back, and it was too risky to wait two weeks. Stupid or not, Carl had to try something.

Having made his decision he made quick work of his departure. He had to leave without seeing anyone, without saying goodbye to Enid and risking that she would try to stop him. Instead he lingered only to find a clean bandage for his face, winding it around his head and pulling his hair across it as best he could. By now he was supposed to be keeping it off all the time, but it was easier to tolerate people staring at the bandage than staring at his scars.

As he left he paused outside the nursery and looked inside, reminding himself of why they had risked Carrie travelling with them that night, and of why he was doing this now. The room that had once been Carol's was now painted light yellow, a crib, change table and rocking chair perfectly arranged exactly to Carrie's liking. The baby clothes were all laundered, ironed and put away, hung up in the closet on tiny hangers or folded neatly into drawers, socks and gloves so miniature he was sure Judith had never been quite so small. Carrie had been meticulous as she prepared this room, and had spent days trying to figure out which wall would be the best for the crib before eventually realising it would probably go by her bed for a few months. That had come as a relief to Carl, for the nursery shared a wall with his own bedroom, but now what he wouldn't give for a newborn baby to be waking him up in the middle of the night.

Downstairs he went to the closet at the front door and collected a knife and machete, making sure to secure the child lock latch when he closed it. He had no guns with which to arm himself, but nevertheless he wore the holster around his leg, feeling almost naked whenever he didn't have it on. He stopped by the kitchen to collect a piece of fruit and bottle of water for his backpack, unsure of how long it would take him to get to the Sanctuary, and before he left he glanced at the birthday card that sat on the kitchen counter.

Today was his dad's thirty ninth birthday today, so he had made him a birthday card and wrapped his present just in case he came home. The card itself was nothing special, he had given Judith her crayons and set her loose with some paper, but with a little effort he had managed to turn her scribbles into something that resembled a birthday cake and balloons. Dad would like it, and even if he didn't it would go on the refrigerator anyway.

Trying to keep his departure inconspicuous he slipped out the garage door and made his way to the walls behind his house. There were plenty of people out in the community today, meaning he would have to make a point of hiding his departure. Taking a moment he looked up at the top of the walls, psyching himself up to climb it. He wasn't afraid of the height, and he had quickly recovered his sense balance after losing his eye, but he hadn't done this at all since before then. Feeling a little uneasy he slipped three footholds through the holes in the frame, breathing deeply as he reassured himself. He had done this a hundred times at least, and the feeling of elation as he slid down the support beams on the other side was a great reward. Without any more hesitation he started to climb, not looking down and losing his balance but instead slipping in the next footholds as he climbed.

"Hey Carl," came the suspicious voice of Maggie.

Halfway up the wall Carl froze, his heart lurching as he realised how stupid he was. Though he had scoped out the people out in the community, it hadn't occurred to him to take a good look around behind the houses. Clutching the wall he braced himself as he slowly turned his head and looked down, watching as Maggie emerged from the garage of her house next door. On her hip she carried Herschel, his plump face smiling contentedly up at his mother. He was blissfully unaware of what had happened to Glenn, and perhaps had even forgotten him already.

For a moment he considered ignoring her, just pretending she wasn't there and climbing the wall anyway…but what if she suspected what he was doing? He watched as she spread out a blanket on a small patch of grass and then lowered Herschel down, passing him a few toys before sitting down next to him.

"Hey, Maggie," he said nonchalantly. "What are you doing out here?"

She gave a heavy sigh, looking down at Herschel who happily sucked on one of his toys. "I wanted him to have some fresh air, but there's a lot of sympathy out front right now."

"Yeah," he murmured awkwardly, understanding. Everyone was trying to say the right thing, to offer comfort and sympathy, but none of that helped.

"So," she continued, looking up at him with a knowing expression. "What are _you_ doing out here?"

"Oh, you know…just wanted some fresh air too. Thought maybe I'd go see Glenn."

"Ahh," she nodded, though it was clear she didn't believe a word he told her. "The cemetery's the other way. _Inside_ the walls."

Now he hesitated, for to maintain this pretence would require him to actually go to the cemetery, a place he absolutely did not want to see. That overturned lump of dirt was not Glenn. He was buried there, but going there didn't allow them to be with him. Instead he simply shut up, stupid for having tried to sneak any wrong doing past Maggie. Without another word he simply turned back to the wall and took another foothold from the pocket of his backpack, slipping it through the next hole up top and beginning to climb. He was stupid for having tried to sneak any wrong doing past Maggie…he knew what she had been like at his age, that she had seen her own share of mischief and sneaking about.

Despite his former haste to get over as quickly as possible he now took his time, feeling a little disoriented after the distraction. But the process came back to him easily, and as he methodically climbed he allowed himself to think through his next steps. He knew where to find a car out there, and he knew where to find some guns that could be reasonably passed off as scavenged that day. He could bring them to Negan as a peace offering of sorts, the same way his dad had given over Michonne's rifle last week.

"You're not going far, right?"

Having reached the top and steadied himself he looked back down to Maggie below. She had settled Herschel between her knees, one hand stroking his fine black hair while the other passed him a second toy. Unlike Carl she was powerless to do anything to avenge Glenn's death and help fight the war. Herschel needed his mother now more than ever, and not just because he was breastfed. For a moment Carl considered telling her the truth, comforting her by saying that he was doing this for her too…but he was smarter than that. Maggie would never let him do it if he told her the truth.

"I'll be home before noon," he lied. "I promise."

* * *

To her sheer disbelief, Negan was hosting a meeting today, all of his top lieutenants joining him in a room that almost passed for a boardroom. It had been quite the fuss that morning when each of them arrived with a small convoy of guards, the workers all scrambling to welcome them in and accommodate them, providing hot drinks and taking their coats when they entered the Sanctuary. Carrie had been standing on the upper platform where Arat normally prowled, watching the scenes unfold from up there where she could hide the fact that she was eating her third croissant of the morning. She had watched each arrival and learnt the lieutenants names, Gavin and Regina who she didn't recognise, and then Paula who she did. The redheaded woman was the one who had caught her, Abraham and Carl that night in the woods, who had patted her down and found the pocket knives she had hidden in her bra.

Creeping around as best she could, Carrie had managed to follow them as they all entered one of the rooms on the ground floor, and she lingered at the end of a corridor as workers carried in water pitchers and glasses, trays of fresh fruit and sandwiches. By now they were twenty minutes into their meeting, with Carrie risking a lot in order to listen in. Her main interest had been gauged by the fact that Laura was in attendance, and she wanted to make sure that she was staying for the entire meeting. The intention that day had been to sneak into Laura's room and peruse her points ledger, to try and ascertain as much information as she could about how things worked here. But she was disheartened to see Laura carrying the ledger with her, taking the bright blue folder into the meeting.

Standing outside the meeting room, Carrie was privy to the conversation within, taking in as much detail as she possibly could. There were glass windows that looked into the room, but they were dirty enough that it was easy for her to simply walk past undetected, and then she stood behind the solid door, concealing the fact that she was there eavesdropping. A ventilation fan above the doorway was the only opening to the room, but it was large enough that she could hear them talking as if she were in there with them. Hidden in the pocket of her light pink jacket was her notebook and pen, and every time she heard something of importance she took it out and wrote it down, even if she couldn't yet make sense of what it meant in the bigger picture.

"Usage is tighter than a nun's panties," Negan said loudly, thumping his hand on the table. "But now is not the time to relax restrictions. Is that clear?"

"I disagree," Simon said emphatically, sounding tired of the meeting already. "I've been saying for months now, we need to spend some rounds to save them. If and when we encounter unforeseen circumstances we waste rounds because we don't let our people practice!"

"Laura?" Negan enquired. "How much allowance do we have for…unforeseen circumstances?"

There was a slight pause as Laura cleared her throat. "I'll put it this way. Let's not encounter those unforeseen circumstances."

A low murmur swept the room, and Carrie held her breath as she listened intently. It pleased her to hear them sounding unhappy about this, for there was no need to guess what the unforeseen circumstances Negan referred to were. He was worried about a fight with Alexandria, and it seemed he didn't have the resources for it.

"The Plaza ammunition use is well below projections," the woman named Regina commented, taking her turn to discuss the inventory. "The fine for every unnecessary discharge of a weapon is working, we've been able to curb the trigger happy dicks from messing around. It's kept us below projection, but it's meant target practice has been nil."

"Do your people need target practice?" Negan enquired with a bite of impatience.

"As much as it pains me to say this…Simon's right. You've saddled me with a lot of amateurs, a-"

"Because I know you can handle them."

"Yeah, I can handle them," she argued. "But Simon is right. We waste as much as we save because of amateurs who can't shoot straight to save their fucking life. People need target practice."

"Laura?"

There was a pause, and Carrie listened as hard as she could, making out what sounded like papers shuffling around.

"You've got enough leftover to ration some extra training. You can have fifteen percent for training, so long as it's combined with clearing the Rotters."

"An extra fifteen percent on the March budget, or fifteen percent of what I saved last month?"

"Fifteen of what you saved. We're still facing a shortage, and we're running the new group in right now. At some stage they might try something, so we need to keep saving."

There was a pause before Regina continued. "Fifteen percent won't amount to much."

Another pause came to pass, even longer than the last, and then Negan spoke up. "Twenty percent of the savings for the Plaza gun training. Ten percent for the rest of the outposts. You have all saved your pennies, right?"

There was a general murmur of assent before Laura answered, though she sounded rather unhappy. "Everyone is below projections. Regina's group has been the worst historically, but they've come out on top February and Jan."

"You might be up for quarter of the year!" Negan praised, rousing a laugh from each of them.

"Is there a prize?" Regina asked.

"A night in my bed."

"Well shit. Are you in it too?"

"Wha' the fuck do you think?"

There was more laughter now, someone slapping their hand onto the table.

"Pass," Regina said dryly. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Probably for the best. I heard about what you're like in bed," Negan teased. "And I need that like I need a dick in the ass."

"Just to clarify," Regina began. "Do-"

"I do not need a dick in the ass."

"Worried you might like it?"

As they descended into an immature back and forth Carrie rolled her eyes. Nice to see they were being productive in there. As she waited for them to get on with things she took out her notepad and scrawled some thoughts onto it, noting that they seemed prepared to fight back if Alexandria were so inclined to strike first. But they were worried about ammunition, and had been rationing it at the expense of lapsing skills.

"Speaking of a pain in my ass," Negan said loudly, his tone of voice bringing everyone back to attention. "Dixon. He was going ape-shit this morning. Whatever you did to him drove him absolute nutty bitchcakes."

"Yep," was Dwight's short answer.

"So, is he ready? Is he kneeling?"

"He's not quite there yet."

"Hey man, we all knew he'd take longer to break than her," Simon commiserated. "Some people are harder."

Negan was less understanding. "I need him broken into little Dixon pieces by the time we go back to Alexandria. I need him to be me," he said emphatically. "Because without her, he might not be enough leverage to keep Rick in line."

"I'm working on it."

"Work him harder. Cut his rations."

"Well that's going to be difficult," Dwight countered, sounding annoyed now. "We all know he's getting rations from someone."

"Do we?" Negan enquired, sounding interested. "Care to explain, Laura?"

Carrie held her breath, her heart pounding as she listened in. No one had stopped her bringing food and water to Daryl…was that about to change?

"The consensus was to let her bring him food and water," Laura explained. "It makes her happy and keeps her out of trouble."

"Then either stop her paying him these little visits, or come up with something else to break him."

"I'll come up with something," Dwight assured him. "I know wha-"

"Dwight. Could I proffer a suggestion?" Simon interjected, his politeness sounding feigned. "May I?"

"Yeah, Dwighty Boy. May he?"

"Go right ahead."

"Negan…how far are we willing to go with _her_?"

"With her?" he said quietly. "I thought I made that crystal fucking clear."

"Yes, bu-"

"She is off limits to _everyone_ , for _everything_."

"Hear me out. She's not just leverage to Rick, she's leverage to Dixon too. You want him to kneel, she's the way to do it."

"She's here for a reason," Paula spoke up, agreeing. "You should use her."

Negan wasn't having any of it. "She is off limits."

"We don't have to follow through," Simon added, trying to clarify where he was going with this. "We just call his bluff. He doesn't care what we do to him, but to her? We push them both just close enough to the edge, and just when he thinks we're actually going to do it, he'll kneel."

There was a long silence, and Carrie could practically feel the tension radiating out of the room. She was holding her breath, knowing that whatever was decided now would affect her and Daryl. What were they going to do? Were they willing to do something to her in order to break Daryl? She had thought that the Saviours cleaning his cell and providing him clean clothes meant his conditions were improving, but she hadn't actually set eyes on him up close since their return from Alexandria. Were they mistreating him again? It sure sounded like they were torturing him, or at least were planning to.

"Next on the agenda?"

It was a clear dismissal of the entire conversation, and as they picked up from the next topic of discussion Carrie breathed out in relief. Whatever they were suggesting, Negan had shut it down. She was off limits to them, and would remain that way. She was going to be safe, but surely that meant whatever was happening to Daryl would escalate. Would they stop her from taking him food and water? Would they cut her off from her only means of helping him and providing comfort?

"There is no conspiracy between the Hilltop and Alexandria," Simon said loudly, the topic capturing Carrie's attention. He was speaking over the others, trying to quell a debate that had broken out. "They knew of one another, one of his guys tried to establish a trade for goods, but the deal fell through."

"Then what were they doing out there that night?" Regina argued. "We all know they were going to the Hilltop!"

"Yeah, because D here knocked off their doctor. Paula and I have spoken to Gregory about this twice now, and his story has not changed. Rick and his group never even made it to the Hilltop that morning. Lana bled out, and they dragged their sorry asses back home."

"And you believe that shit?"

"Yes, I do."

"Because Gregory's got his head shoved so far up your ass he could chew your damn food for you!"

"I believe him too," Gavin said in Simon's defence. "Gregory is not a trouble maker. A thin dicked politician, yes. But not a trouble maker."

Regina scoffed in derision. "Don't even get me started on you and your thin dick, Gavin."

"Well that's a little uncalled for," he commented. "My manhood is of adequate girth as you well know."

"Then what have you done about the shit that went down at the Kingdom the other week?"

"Yes, Gavin," Negan began, sounding interested to hear this. "What have you done about that jumped up trigger happy shit?"

"This has been discussed already."

"You're still sending Jared out scavenging. He's still one of your guys."

"But he is no longer accompanying me to the Kingdom's pick up. The situation has been handled."

Now there were scoffs of derision from all around the table, and Carrie stood up on the tip of her toes to better hear. What had happened at the Kingdom?

"Well what would you have me do? Demote him all the way down to grunt work?"

"Transfer him to Satellite Station," Paula suggested smugly. "If you can't man up enough to put him back in his place, I sure as shit can."

"I can handle my own men! Now I know kids like Jared. They need to be occupied with a task," he argued passionately. "They need to be mentored. Demoting him to grunt work is a waste of the very potential Negan saw in him, and it means that I can't keep an eye on him."

"Tell me, Gavin," Negan instructed. "Was your eye on him when he shot two people over a rockmelon?"

Simon interjected now, having been largely silent throughout this argument. "Jared, obnoxious shit stain he may be, is not Gavin's biggest problem."

"Oh please Simon. Enlighten me."

"It's Ezekiel, and everyone on his crew. I'm willing to wager there are a lot of hurt feelings right now, particularly when it comes to the kid."

"What's your damn point?"

There was a pause now, and Carrie could imagine all of them waiting with bated breath much like she was. Her mind was reeling with each iota of information. Something had gone wrong during a tribute meeting with the Kingdom, and two of them had been shot, including a kid. Benjamin? He was Carl's friend there, and he was on the tribute team that met with Gavin. When had this happened? Was this what prevented them from bringing Brea to the Alexandria almost two weeks ago?

"Perhaps it's time to renegotiate the lay of the land," Simon gently suggested. "Wipe the slate clean and start afresh."

"In what capacity?" Gavin suspiciously asked.

"It won't be easy, but perhaps do away with Ezekiel and the deal we made way back when. If you go in with the right stage picture, a thick, veiny show of force surrounding you when you lay the law down with these people…I think things go back to copacetic."

Negan scoffed, unimpressed. "Sounds to me like you just wanna swing your dick around, just so you can show it to someone."

"Well what's the point in having a dick worth showing if you don't show it?" Simon argued, slapping his palm on the table. "When we made this shit ass deal with them we met their conditions because we didn't have enough to force their hand. Now we do. So let's proudly swing our dick around and see if they're willing to choke on it."

"And, if they're not?" Paula asked.

"If they're not...then we take a flyer to Ezekiel and his little tribute group. We kill everyone. An unfortunate play if you ask me, but we renegotiate the right deal and achieve equilibrium," he stated proudly. "No more business of their territory lines and where we can and can't go in the city. No more missing rockmelons an-"

Carrie barely stifled a yelp, the sound of a loud bang from inside the room taking her by surprise. She felt herself break out into tremors, for she didn't need to hear it again to know that Negan had swung Lucille, that he had hit something. She waited in paralysed terror, braced for the sounds of screaming, of something crying out in pain from a blow to the head, but none came. Instead Negan swung Lucille again, and when she heard the echo of the metal table she managed to draw breath. She could hear him murmuring something, and then without warning he hit the table a third time, and a fourth, shouting at his men with every strike.

"People are the foundation, of what we are building!" he roared at them, still striking the table.

There came a terrible silence now, Carrie still trembling outside the door.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" he demanded, lowering his voice. "Are you confused about who we are? Are you confused about who is in charge? Are we backsliding, Simon?" he asked next, his voice threatening and dangerous. "Please tell me we're not backsliding."

"We're not backsliding," Simon replied, sounding chastised. "This is a pronounced event, and a fragile moment."

"Simon…a small leak, can sink a great ship. You've got a history for making a whole lot o' small leaks in my ship!"

Deciding she had stayed too long already, Carrie slowly backed away from the door and then fled, wanting to get the hell out of there. With every strike of the bat on the table she felt her body jolt, remembering the way the ground shook beneath her with every strike of the bat on Abraham's head, remembering the sound of the bat swooshing through the air. Her heart was racing and hands shaky, and as she walked she looked over her shoulder, paranoid that somehow they knew she was out there eavesdropping.

She walked faster than she had in days, wanting to get far away from Negan and his meeting. Instead she decided to do what she had intended all along. She had followed Laura to that meeting simply to see where she was going, to make sure she was actually joining them. Now that she knew Laura was occupied she made her way to the place the wives had jokingly coined Rape Alley. One level above the basement cells were the rooms to which people used to trade sex for goods before Negan took over and forbade the practice. Now it housed the rooms his top men and woman lived in, rooms that according to Negan were not good enough for her to occupy during her time here.

As she made her way through these corridors she was soon faced with David making his way towards her, and so she braced herself for the encounter. Yet despite the creepy feeling she always got from him he did nothing other than nod his head in acknowledgement as he passed her by. He didn't ask what she was doing down there, they never did, and she maintained the pretence of walking around like she owned the place. She was allowed to go wherever the hell she wanted, and so long as that was the facade she maintained, that's what people saw.

The moment David had turned the corner Carrie slowed to a stop, one hand cupping her belly to support it. She backtracked the way she had come, having been forced to walk past the door to Laura's living quarters. Having spent days wandering the Sanctuary she knew the layout well, and had frequently seen Laura coming and going from this particular room. Knowing she had to be bold she didn't allow herself to hesitate or linger in the corridor. Her heart was in her throat when she made her move and opened the door, glad to find it unlocked, but she didn't let her guard down until she stepped inside and saw the room was unoccupied.

As she closed the door behind herself she allowed herself a moment to collect her thoughts. An excuse had been on the tip of her tongue should she have found anyone in here, a claim that she was simply looking for the bathroom more than likely to be believed. None of these Saviours knew what she was up to, and none of them saw her as anything other than Rick Grimes' pregnant wife. They had no idea of who she really was behind this facade, of who she was willing to become to protect herself and her people.

Pushing all thoughts of Negan's meeting and what she had overheard out of her mind, she cast her eyes around Laura's living quarters, rather impressed by the living conditions of Negan's top people. The room was lit by a series of the square paned windows at the ceiling line, and though like the rest of the Sanctuary they were dusty on the outside, they admitted a pleasantly filtered light into the room. On the opposite wall was a small kitchen made up of countertop and open shelves, a microwave, toaster oven and mini fridge completing the set up. Intrigued, Carrie wandered over to the kitchen and opened the mini fridge, not at all surprised by what she found.

Wedged in the small ice box at the top was a bottle of vodka, and so it was to the block of chocolate on the top shelf that she turned her attention to. Hershey's Cookie and Cream, a few pieces of that hit the spot just right, and it didn't matter that she could get this herself from the kitchens, it tasted far better for the mere fact that she was stealing it from Laura. Thirsty now, she took a juice box from the door and stuck the straw in, happily drinking it. She didn't even like grape juice, but she relished the notion that she was taking this from Laura…the bitch deserved it.

As she drank she looked around some more, observing the room. It was nothing special, but Laura kept it in relatively good order. The bed was unmade, but the bookshelf housing books and DVDs was neatly organised and free of dust, as was the television in the corner and the comfortable armchair that sat opposite. The walls were bare of decorations but for a single poster of The Butterfly Effect, her taste in music surprising Carrie.

Not wanting to waste time she went to the bookshelf and searched for whatever she could find, for although Laura had the blue ledger with her right now, she had seen that it was specifically labelled as belonging to the Sanctuary. To her that seemed to indicate there would be other ledgers too…was Laura in charge of record keeping for all the outposts? If that wasn't the case, then why had Regina needed to ask her for extra ammunition rations? It seemed to be that Laura was the Olivia of the Sanctuary, tasked with handling all record keeping, distributing supplies among the outposts and negotiating Negan's points for workers at the Sanctuary.

Determined to search every inch of this room if she had to, Carrie turned her attention to the other door, glad to find a dark storage closet on the other side. There was no light in there, and so she pushed the door wide open as she stepped inside and looked around. On one side of the closet was a shelf that doubled as a work desk, and neatly arranged in the far corner were five coloured folders, but it wasn't to them that Carrie gave her attention first. The opposite side of the closet was occupied by a single tension rod upon which Laura hung some of her clothing, and tucked into the far corner behind a heavy winter jacket was a white garment bag. Intrigued, Carrie pulled aside the other clothing to get a better look at it, and when she saw the name _Kelly Faetanini_ printed on the front she lunged for the zip and opened it.

She gasped in awe, the garment bag revealing a stunning wedding dress. It hung on a plastic bust to maintain the shape, the strapless bodice a metallic gold with sweetheart neckline, cinched at the waist above the enormous skirt adorned with white feathers. Unable to help herself Carrie looked the wedding dress up and down, touching the fine feathers and admiring the craftsmanship. This dress must be worth thousands, and it had to be one hell of an effort to get it through the outbreak in such pristine condition.

Not caring that she was snooping, Carrie looked into the bottom of the garment bag and found a pair of gold high heeled shoes, and written in glitter gel beneath the arches were the words Mrs Taylor. There was a beaded coin purse too, with two gold wedding rings and a delicate engagement ring lovingly kept. As she looked at the items she wished she could say that she felt heartbroken for Laura, for though she wondered if she ever got to wear her wedding dress to marry her fiancé, a larger part of her didn't give a shit. Laura was not a person she cared about. Hell, Laura wasn't even a person to her. She was a Saviour, her captor. In a way she liked that Laura had kept her wedding dress throughout the last three years, that she had preserved it so lovingly…she hoped it still hurt.

Feeling a small amount of vindication, Carrie returned all items to their place in the garment bag and zipped it up, for though she'd enjoy the satisfaction of flushing those rings down the toilet, more important was the necessity of keeping her presence here an absolute secret. If Laura noticed her precious memories missing a great deal of suspicion would come down on everyone, including herself. So instead she moved all the clothes back to how she had found them, taking one last look at the garment bag before turning to the ledgers awaiting her attention.

She sat down at Laura's chair, breathing a massive sigh of relief to be off her feet. While the baby made its presence known by stretching out and using her diaphragm for play, Carrie turned her attention to the folders, recognising two names on the spine but not the others. Gavin - Chemical Plant. Paula - Satellite Station. These two outposts Lana had warned them of before her death, but the others? Regina - Shepherd Plaza. Simon - FedEx Centre. These must have been established after Lana had left the Saviours.

Opening the folder to the Paula - Satellite Station ledger first, Carrie flicked through a few pages and familiarised herself with the contents. It took a few minutes to figure out what it all was and how it was arranged, but it quickly became apparent that the vast majority was dedicated to the points status of various workers at the station. As she looked up and down one page belonging to someone named Primo, she noted his finishing tally for each month dating back for over a year. It was now that she began to frown, not quite understanding. The final tally for each month was signed by both Laura and Paula, the Saviours surprisingly dedicated to paperwork and documentation, but further down the list was Simon's signature in place of Paula's.

Putting the pieces together she took the ledger Simon - FedEx Centre, and opened that next, and then it began to make sense. The first entries signed by Simon at the FedEx Centre came a week following his final entries at the Satellite Station. He was the Lieutenant who established the Satellite Station as a Saviour outpost, eventually handing over leadership to Paula so that he could move on to establish another. But the more she kept digging the more intrigued she became by the Satellite Station's ledger. Though Simon had established the outpost, there was an absence of two months a little over a year ago. For those two months Paula had signed, covering her boss while he was absent for an extended period of time…where was he then? What had happened?

Trying not to get too caught up in the mystery of it all, Carrie took out her notepad and started writing down everything she could conclude from each ledger. Names, locations, the number of people, the workers and the management, the inventory of non-perishable foods and supplies. She wrote down everything she could, erring the line between writing quickly and writing legibly. As she finished each ledger she tore the pages from her notepad and folded them up, tucking them safely into the cup of her bra where she also kept Fat Joey's keys. The Saviours didn't frisk her anymore, not one of them had put their hands on her since she had moved in with the wives. It was safer to keep contraband hidden safely in her bra than it was to hide it in her bedroom.

The sound of a commotion broke her out of her concentration, her pen stopping on the page as she looked up and listened. In the corridors outside she could hear people running and shouting, sounding alarmed. For a moment she listened to them in trepidation, and though she needed the light to see she reached over and pushed the door halfway closed. She waited with bated breath, the sound of the commotion ceasing for a few moments before starting up again, and then without warning the door to Laura's room burst open.

"Laura!" someone shouted, coming inside. "Laura, have you seen Ale…fuck!"

Carrie went completely still, holding her breath so that not even the hint of a shadow moving would draw attention towards the closet. She needn't have worried though, for the person was only in there for a split second. Upon finding Laura not to be there they left as quickly as they arrived, swearing and loudly slamming the door in their haste. In their wake they left only silence and her racing heart.

Clearing her throat, Carrie pulled the door open a little further to let more light in, and then she resumed her former task. She was tearing paper from her notepad in chunks, doing her best to keep things numbered and orderly, and she figured she might have to rewrite these notes under the covers of her bed that night.

Having taken down the most important details of the outposts she put everything back in order and then turned to the fifth folder, the only one whose spine was not marked with a name and location. She glanced at the watch that Tanya had given her a few days ago, wondering how much she dared to push her luck. Risking it, she opened the folder and looked at the contents, and it was then her jaw dropped in astonishment. It was a current lust of all the weapons and guns at each outpost…and more. There were more locations, more outposts scattered all around, but they must not be manned full time. There was no corresponding ledger of points for these locations, just pages upon pages of weapons, some guns she didn't even recognise the names of.

For more than a minute she simply flicked through the pages, trying to decide how to make note of all this on her small notepad. There were too many names, too many weapons to write down, and so she forced herself to quickly decide on the locations. Her heart was racing with exhilaration as she wrote down each name and location she saw throughout the pages, the locations of the Saviour's weapons caches. When she had finished noting all of the locations she scanned each list, noting down the name of every weapon she was unfamiliar with.

In the very back in a tab of its own was a section dedicated to ammunition, this resource kept separate from the weapons listed up front. Just as she had overheard in the meeting the Saviours were facing an ammunition shortage, for although they had the guns it seemed they didn't have the ammunition to match. Nevertheless what they did have was nothing to be overlooked. They had plenty of firepower behind them, her eyes bulging at the calibers listed.

As the questions started coming, Carrie began to feel nervous. She checked her watch again, conscious of how much time she had spent in here. Laura was liable to come back here at any minute now, or another person who was still looking for her. It was time to go, a notion supported by the fact that she desperately needed to pee again. Going about the process methodically Carrie again tore the notes from the pages of her notepad and carefully stowed them in her bra, and then she returned everything to the precise position in which she had found it. The ledgers went back to the corner in order, the chair retuned to the exact spot in which the legs dented the carpet, and then she closed the closet door behind herself.

Back in Laura's bedroom she looked around once more, and then she went to the trash can in which she had tossed the now empty juice box. Picking through it all she took a few pieces of trash and moved them on top of the juice box, trying to hide the evidence of her theft. When she was satisfied she crept back to the door and listened for sounds coming from the other side. As she waited for her moment she gave her cleavage bit of a shake, making sure Fat Joey's keys weren't jangling together. Only when she was satisfied that there was no one outside did she take the risk of stepping out.

Just as it had been when she entered Laura's room, the corridor outside was completely empty. Beginning to regret the grape juice, for she didn't need to put more pressure on her poor bladder, she hastily made her way towards the stairs that would take her up to the nearest restroom. As she walked she took a few moments to feel proud of herself, for despite the huge risk she had just taken she looked calm and collected on the outside. When she had been laying in bed last night thinking about this plan she had not been at all calm about it, but somehow she had managed to pull it off. Much like bringing food and water to Daryl gave her a sense of purpose around here, so too did taking action to resolve their situation. Stealing Fat Joey's keys yesterday had been a boost to her confidence, and had compelled her to realise that she was not completely helpless as she once felt. Her priority above all was to ensure her baby was born safely, preferably at home with Rick by her side, but that didn't exclude her from trying to help Daryl, nor from trying to learn as much information about the Saviours as possible.

When she reached the ground floor the restroom was within sight, but to her frustration Arat appeared at the end of the corridor, giving a low cry of frustration upon seeing her. She raised her handheld radio to her mouth, speaking into it as she broke into a run and rushed over to her.

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded, her curly hair bouncing as she slowed to a stop. "Huh, Alexandria? Where have you been?"

Carrie just raised her eyebrows at her, not at all liking the demand. "Walking."

"We've been looking for you fucking everywhere!" she said loudly, looking her up and down in disdain.

Carrie just looked at her expectantly. "Well, here I am. What do you want?"

"Negan wants to see you upstairs," she said, taking her by the arm and trying to turn her around. "Now. Come on."

"Wait, hang on a second," she said in outrage, shrugging her arm out of Arat's grip.

"He's waiting for you."

Carrie turned on her heel and made her way down the corridor in the opposite direction. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Can't you just hold it?" she said urgently following her and stepping in front of her. She looked pissed, her cheeks red from the exertion of searching for her.

"No! If you make me hold it I'll probably pee myself!"

Arat just looked at her in exasperation, closing her eyes for a moment. "Fat Jesus," she muttered, shaking her head to herself. "Go. Hurry up."

Somewhat amused to find Arat so frazzled, for she normally exuded an air of calm resting bitch face, Carrie made her way into the bathroom. Happy to stress Arat out even more she lingered longer than necessary, stroking her belly in the privacy of the cubicle. It was so strange to feel the baby kicking up around her ribs and diaphragm, but every movement came with the reminder that it had safely turned, that she didn't have to face the prospect of delivering it breech. Everything was going to play out exactly the way she needed it to, of that she was certain. Today had been a good day. That wasn't going to change.

"Come on!" Arat said angrily, coming into the bathroom now. "He's waiting for you."

"Alright, alright."

Not daring to push her any further, Carrie finished up and then washed her hands, disappointed to see that Arat looked somewhat calmer now that she was cooperating. Her resting bitch face had returned, but she at least didn't grab her by the arm as they made their way through the Sanctuary and up to where Negan would be awaiting her. As they walked she mentally prepared herself to face him, already knowing what this was about. He was going to stop her from seeing Daryl, and he had probably found out about the blankets she had managed to give him. He'd be annoyed, probably throw his weight around a little to remind her of who was in charge, but she was not going to be in any danger. She already knew that where she was concerned she was immune to almost anything. She wouldn't be punished, and instead this would be an opportunity for them to talk things through, to negotiate Daryl's conditions…it would be like trying to talk to a brick wall, but she would try nonetheless.

Ascending the final set of stairs she paused to catch her breath, ignoring the way Arat rolled her eyes impatiently, and then she made her way towards the corridor leading to Negan's room. He was waiting there outside the double doors that led to his room, the doors leading to the wive's quarters a little further down. Standing there with him was Simon, both of them in deep discussion about something of importance, but the moment he saw her coming he turned all his attention to her. His face lit up and his eyes widened, and he looked genuinely delighted to see her.

"There you are!" he claimed jovially, clapping his hands together. "We've been searching every nook, cranny and asshole for you!"

 _Apparently not_. "Well, here I am."

"Here you are indeed," he agreed, grinning at her. "Boy, do I have a surprise for you."

As she slowed to a stop she began to feel unnerved, the way he grinned at her with such delight making her feel highly uncomfortable. She looked at Arat behind her, trying to understand what was going on. He wouldn't be greeting her like this if he wanted to talk about Daryl.

"I don't like surprises."

"Oh, but I do," he said, practically rubbing his hands together. "You're not gonna like it one fucking bit, but I do."

Simon cleared his throat, glancing at her before getting Negan's attention. "It's a _go_ , then? Green light?"

"Indeed it is, Simon," Negan declared, clasping him on the shoulder. "Go on now, get down there and set this up."

Looking pleased with the answer, Simon nodded and turned to Arat. "I'll need your help," he told her, walking past Carrie. "You and Laura."

They set off together down the hall, leaning close and talking amongst themselves before disappearing around the corner. Left standing there alone with Negan an awkward silence ensued, and she looked up at him in apprehension. Something had made him very happy, and sure as hell that wasn't good for her. She felt gooseflesh rising on her skin, nervous at the way he grinned at her, so pleased to have her there.

Perhaps he could see how nervous she had become, for he now came a little closer, his grin softening into a somewhat gentler smile. "I hope you got your shittin' pants on."

She blinked, looking up at him in confusion. "What?"

"Your shittin' pants," he repeated. "I hope you're wearing them right now. Because you," he began, opening his bedroom door and stepping inside. "Are about to shit your pants."

* * *

A/N So in my opinion one of my more interesting chapters in terms of what trouble Carl is getting himself into, and what Carrie has been learning. She is definitely looking for every advantage she can get here at the Sanctuary, but it's not going to last for long!

Hope you enjoyed Carl's POV and the Saviours meeting - I'm sure we can all guess the surprise Negan has for Carrie.


	55. Chapter 55

Despite a shaky start in which the old rusted car wouldn't start, Carl had somehow found his way to the Sanctuary without too much stress. It had taken him hours, much time wasted with him parked on the side of the road trying to read the map, turning it this way and that and wondering how his dad managed to do it. As if it was nothing his dad had a knack for simply glancing at a map and knowing how to get from point A to point B, whereas Carl felt completely inept. He'd never quite figured out Washington, and the map he had taken with him that day was missing half the roads…at least it felt that way.

It was early afternoon by the time he made it to the Sanctuary, mostly depending on his recollections of what Lana had told them to find his way there. He had seen the enormous factory from a distance, but were it not for the shortcuts and workarounds Lana had told them about he would have found himself stuck on that highway for hours, painstakingly moving cars one by one as he looked at the Sanctuary in the distance. Nevertheless he had made it there, and he had everything he needed. On the seat beside him was his backpack with a few belongings, and three guns to offer as a sign of good will. All he needed was to get face to face with Negan and plead his case…and very quickly it became too late to turn back and go home.

He hadn't expected his arrival at the Sanctuary to be heralded as welcome, but it was startling to be met with such outright hostility. The moment he got within three blocks of the place he saw Saviours appearing, one of them calling to him on the walkie talkies and telling him to stop. But while he slowed his approach and kept his hands visible he did not stop, he did not back down. Making his way down a road flanked by enormous concrete walls he gripped the steering wheel and braced himself, nervously readying himself to face the music. His view of the Sanctuary was obscured, but when two of the Saviours forced him to a stop in the middle of the road he turned his attention solely to them. One he recognised as David, the asshole he had confronted in the Infirmary who was stealing all their medicine. He looked pleased to see him, giving him a smug stare as he approached the driver's side. The window was open, allowing David to speak directly to him.

"Keep your hands where I can see 'em," he said roughly, pointing a gun in his face.

Doing as instructed Carl kept his hands on the steering wheel and waited, mentally rehearsing everything he had to say, reminding himself of his goal. He was here to take Carrie's place, and he wasn't leaving until she was free. No compromises, no shitty ass deals…she was going home, today. Ten whole minutes passed he tried to get another look at the Sanctuary, curious as to its nature. He could hear and smell Walkers nearby, and already he could feel that this place had a general sense of misery.

At the end of the road a small group of people had gathered, but though he was too far away to clearly make them out he was certain that one of them was Negan. He could feel it, he was certain. But to his frustration it wasn't Negan who finally broke away from the group and started to approach. It was Simon who had stopped them on the road the first time, who had found so much enjoyment from their grief and despair that night.

Watching as he came closer Carl tried not to clench his hands around the steering wheel. The black line Negan had drawn on his arm had only just faded, but he could still feel the way it had felt when he drew that line across his arm. When it happened he had kept glancing up at Simon, flabbergasted that what was happening didn't seem out of the ordinary. For a moment he imagined himself hitting the gas and running Simon over, imagined the sound his body would make as he went tumbling over the hood and up the windscreen…it would be satisfying.

"Well howdy there," Simon called out, swaggering his way on over. "What do we have here?"

Carl didn't respond, choosing instead to hold his tongue. For a moment he looked around, watching as David and the other guy fell back to let Simon closer, while the group gathered at the end of the drive made no move. They congregated there, simply watching on and allowing Simon to determine what was happening. With a smug expression he came right over, leaning his elbow on the window sill as he bent down to look in at Carl. His eyes first darted over to the passenger seat, taking in the three guns there, but after that he paid them little attention.

"Wanna play a game, kid? It's real easy."

Carl held back a sigh of impatience. "Is it called Simon says?"

Simon grinned at him now, tapping the end of his nose. "Got it in one, kid! Okay let's start. Simon says, tell me your name."

"Carl Grimes. Rick Grimes is my dad," he added, his name having not been met with interest. "I'm here to se-"

Shaking his head at him Simon cut him off. "Play the game, kid. Simon says, tell me what you're doing all the way out here."

"I'm here to see Negan." This seemed to gauge some interest, but he could tell it was all an act, that Simon was messing with him for the hell of it.

"Negan's busy. You'll have to schedule an appointment."

Taking a deep breath he looked ahead of him to where the group was waiting at the end of the drive, to where he knew Negan was. "I'm here to see Negan, and I'm not leaving until I do."

"I told you, he's b-"

"I'm not here to start shit," he said loudly, turning his gaze back to him now. "But I'm not gonna take shit either. I want to see him. Now."

Simon raised his eyebrows now, looking at Carl in disbelief. "You've got some nerve rocking up to a man's abode and demanding to see him. Does your father know you're here?"

"I want to see Negan, now."

Again, Simon's reaction was pronounced, his eyes narrowing in disdain. Nevertheless he stepped back and opened the door, pulling it wide open and gesturing with his hand. "Out."

Carl hesitated, and not because he was afraid. "You didn't say Simon says."

Behind him David sniggered at the remark, an amused smile crossing his face before quickly fading when Simon turned around. This time Carl had really pissed him off, for when he looked back at him his eyes felt cold and dark like they had the other night.

"Simon says, get the fuck out of the car," he snarled, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt and yanking him.

Carl hastily cooperated, not protesting when he was roughly shoved against the car. Still glaring at him, Simon knocked his hat from his head and kicked it away, but he seemed done with him now. He was backing away, clicking his fingers at the other men. It was those two guys who came forward, they too lacking any warmth or kindness in their eyes. Instead they seemed to be enjoying this, glad that something of interest was interrupting their day.

"I want to see Negan," Carl repeated loudly, looking towards the group at the end of the driveway. "I'm taking Carrie's place and she's going home."

"Whatever, Cowboy," one of the men said mockingly, he and the other patting him down.

"Turn around," David said impatiently.

Again he hesitated, frustrated that they didn't seem to be taking him seriously. "I want to see him."

The two men rolled their eyes at him before David grabbed him, yanking him around and then shoving him against the car again. Winded, Carl panted to catch his breath while they continued patting him down, rougher and more intrusive now. His dad had taught him how to do this, to use the back of the hand or to clench the clothing rather than grab at someone, but these guys were jerks about it. As he waited for it to be over he looked back down the road and saw a Walker approaching, attracted by the sound of the car's engine. It snarled at them, lower jaw moving up and down as if salivating.

"There's a Walker."

"Shut up," the bald guy said. Finishing he grabbed Carl's shirt and yanked it up, his lip curling as he looked at his bare stomach before letting go. "Jesus Christ. You even got hair on your balls?"

Carl ignored this, keeping track of the approaching Walker as he turned around to face them again. "You shouldn't let them get close." Seeing their disinterest he glanced over his shoulder again, remembering his dad reprimanding him for this type of thing not so long ago.

"What's your name again?" Simon asked, tilting his head at him.

"Carl Grimes," he repeated, though he knew Simon was just messing with him. "I wa-"

"And you want to…"

"I want to see Negan. I'm here to take Carrie's place, and I'm not leaving until she's free."

Simon frowned at him, turning to David and the other guy. "Carrie? You heard of a Carrie?"

They both shrugged. "We got a Karen who works in the laundry," David said lightly. "And a Caroline chained to the fences…she's not much of a talker."

"I'm sorry Carl," Simon apologised. "No one here by the name of Carrie…unless, maybe that new girl? Negan's new wife?"

He huffed now, infuriated that they weren't taking him seriously. "Why don't you quit fucking me around and take me to Negan!" he shouted, his heart beginning to pound. "I'm not leaving until I see him."

His anger had no effect, the three of them continuing to sneer at him. "Kid, we're gonna relieve you of those guns you shouldn't have, and then you're gonna turn your ass around and go home to daddy. You got it?"

He shook his head in refusal, standing his ground. "No."

"You're being an idiot," the bald guy said impatiently. "Go home."

"I'm not an idiot."

When the guy started to berate him again Simon raised a hand, silencing him. He smirked at Carl now, staring him down in amusement. Practically puffing his chest out he set his hands onto each side of his belt, tilting his head at him. There was a long pause now, and then Simon began to smile again. "Boys. Simon says, teach this brat a lesson." Without further ado he turned on his heel and walked away, looking back towards the others and throwing his hands in the air. "Fucking teenagers!"

As the two men advanced on him Carl began to panic a little, seeing the plan falling apart before his very eyes. He wasn't here to take an ass kicking and go home, this couldn't happen. "Negan!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Come talk to me!"

"I'll talk to yah, kid," David threatened, lips curled into a snarl as he made a fist and drew his hand back.

Blindly hopeful that Negan would put a stop to this and talk to him, Carl left it until the last second before defending himself, probably waiting too long. When David lunged at him and landed a ferocious punch Carl stumbled and dove through the open door of the car, seizing one of the rifles he had left on the passenger seat. As he fumbled to get a grip on the stock he reminded himself that they were loaded with a few rounds each, conscious that whatever happened next he couldn't actually shoot anyone. He needed to be on Negan's good side, no matter how poorly the plan had started off.

He was grabbed from behind, David roaring in delight as he easily wrenched him back out of the car, but he had what he needed. The rifle came with him, and even as David cruelly let him fall to the concrete he maintained a vice grip on it, looping the carry strap around his wrist and clinging to it as if his life depended on it. They were laughing at him, the bald guy kicking dirt at his face while David seized him around the knees and dragged him away from the car, his attempts to fight them off coming to no success. It was two against one, and even alone they were twice his size and strength. He didn't stand a chance of beating them, but all he had to do was stop them just long enough to call out to Negan again, to make him listen this time.

"Negan!" he yelled again, coughing when they kicked dirt in his face again. "Come on!"

"Gimme that!" the bald guy yelled, seizing the barrel of the rifle and trying to wrench it out of his hands. "Kid! Give it to me!"

Hands occupied trying to maintain possession of his only means of self defence, Carl scrambled to try and find his feet. David still had hold of his legs, laughing uproariously at his flimsy attempts to free himself, and then he was on top of him. Kneeling with his knees on his stomach he forced his full weight on top of him, subduing him with ease. He looked back down to the Saviours and threw his hands in the air as if to say _Look! No hands!_

Struggling for each small gasp of air he tirelessly fought to maintain possession of the gun, but inevitably his hands slipped. There came a heavy blow to the top of his brow, one that left him feeling dazed and confused, his arms falling limp above his head. But still the guy was yanking the gun away from him, the strap twisted around his wrist and tightening painfully with every violent tug. He tried to free himself, yelling at them to stop, but with an earsplitting _bang_ the gun was fired and the tension around his wrist was released.

In that instant Carl stopped fighting, stunned as he braced himself for the pain, willing himself to pass out straight away. He didn't remember being shot by Otis, but he sure as hell remembered being shot by Pete, the all consuming agony that tormented him in those first cruel moments until he passed out…but now he felt nothing. In a split second he knew that he was okay, and he looked up to see the bald guy stumbling away in slow motion, the barrel of the rifle pointing up to his face before it clattered to the ground.

Chaos ensued now, the guy crying out as he clutched the side of his face. There was yelling all around them, the guy falling back against the car and then slipping down to his knees as blood erupted from beneath his hands. Stunned, Carl simply lay there and watched on, unable to believe that this had all gone so terribly wrong. How could he help Carrie now?

When David hit him he tasted blood in his mouth, but there wasn't enough time to comprehend that he was still under attack. A moment later the strap of the gun was removed from around his wrist and David was dragging him to his feet, and he had barely drawn breath when he was spun around and his arms wrenched behind his back. David was twice his size and overpowered him without a second thought. With one hand he held Carl's hands together behind his back, the other grabbing at his hair and forcing him to raise his head.

"No," Carl gasped, flailing to free himself. "Don't!"

David had brought him around to face a Walker, the one he had warned them about barely a minute ago. It was a mere five yards away now, its sunken eyes trained solely on him as its prey of interest, and it was closing in fast. Enjoying his panic David laughed at him again, pushing his hands up behind his back and completely controlling him.

"Let me go!" he pleaded, desperately trying to wrench himself away.

"Dave," a woman said, sounding concerned. "Come on man. He's a kid."

"I won't let it get him," he called out jovially, still laughing in amusement. He leant down closer to Carl, growling into his ear. "Probably not."

"He's _Rick's_ kid," she continued. "You tuned him up, now let 'im go."

Ignoring the arguments he shoved Carl forward and forced him closer, his efforts to fight him off or match his strength failing. The Walker lunged for him now, jaws and rotten teeth snapping, its hands tainted with infectious saliva grappling at his shirt. His clothing protected him for that first split second, David yanking him back at the last moment, but he kicked out at it as hard as he could, driving it away. The motion made them both stumble a little, Carl's arms searing in pain when he pushed them higher again, almost forcing him to bend over double.

"Negan!" he yelled out desperately. Risking it, he took his eyes off the Walker that had fallen to its knees and looked for Negan instead, appealing to him. "I want to talk!"

Negan was leaning against one of the concrete walls, the barbed wire baseball bat slung over the front of his shoulder, and in the brief glimpse he got Carl could see that he was smiling. Watching on in approval he made no effort to stop what was happening, nor to assist those trying to save the life of the man who had shot himself. Instead he watched, eagerly awaiting what was to happen next. He started to panic now, terrified by what he had gotten himself into…surely Negan wouldn't let him get bit? Letting that happen would ruin everything with Alexandria.

"Come on, kid," David growled in his ear, forcing him closer when the Walker found its feet. "Let's see what else you got."

Already bent over double with his hands stuck behind his back, Carl was defenceless. He couldn't overpower anyone, and he wasn't willing to bet that David would let him go in time to protect himself. One scratch was all it would take to infect him, to serve as his death sentence, and he'd never be able to take Carrie's place if he was a dead. As David continued goading him, demanding he show him what he had, Carl did the only thing he could. It wasn't a conscious decision, his mind terrifyingly void of a solution or strategy, but he found himself acting without thought. With all his strength he dove head long at the Walker, practically tackling it around the knees. His arms strained, forcing a cry of pain from his throat when David momentarily fought to hang on to him, but an instant later he was free. Crashing straight into the Walker he fell forward and hit the ground, unable to break his fall or defend himself…but the danger literally passed right over him.

Lying prone on the ground Carl scrambled to orient himself, while somewhere behind him David was howling. A brief glimpse of the Walker was all he needed to determine what he had done, that in protecting himself he had practically thrown the Walker straight at him. Though only small in stature the Walker had inflicted heavy damage, biting down on the arm David had raised to protect himself. He was still on his feet, pushing and shoving at the Walker with a howl of pain, and when he wrenched his wrist out of its mouth a dramatic arc of blood followed.

The Walker fell away while David did the same, and now the Saviours were mobilising to help him. David was slumped over on the ground, whimpering as he clutched his forearm. Blood was spurting in rhythmic gushes, so much so that it looked fake, like something you might see in a terrible movie.

Scrambling back to his own feet Carl hurriedly checked his own body for further injury, for a scratch or bite, but there was nothing he hadn't already sustained before facing the Walker. Still orienting himself he looked around for Negan, but before he could find him Simon was charging at him, teeth bared in an aggressive snarl. As easily as David had Simon too overpowered him in an instant, looping his arm around his neck and pulling tight. Carl tried not to fight him, wanting only to surrender, to scrape together any good standing he might have in order to negotiate for Carrie's release, but his body wouldn't let him.

He fought back yet again, using his feet to knock the both of them over, driving his elbows back into Simon's stomach, but each to no avail. "Let me go!" he shouted angrily, hands flailing behind himself and pathetically clawing at Simon's face. "Fucking let me go!"

There came a sharp pain in three of his fingers, and he grunted in frustrated when he realised Simon had bitten him, but he didn't let up. Instead he twisted around in Simon's grip, turning his head and biting down on his forearm in retaliation. He yelped in surprise, but was overall unconcerned, but he seemed to let up a little.

"That's it," Simon murmured, forcing him down to his knees. "Almost done, come on."

He fought a moment longer, digging his fingernails in to whatever skin he could reach, but before he knew it he was pinned face down on the ground. Though he held him down Simon released the arm from around his neck, leaving him gasping and trembling there on the concrete, but with submission came relief. It was over now. Face to face with the concrete he took a few deep breaths, turning his head to look over at the other Saviours. The guy who had shot himself sat alone against the car's rear, his eyes open in a blank stare while the other Saviours tended to David. He was whimpering in pain, but as the others helped him lay down he quietened. It was almost silent now, David becoming limp as he exsanguinated. All round him on the concrete were spatters of blood, his arm amputated at the elbow but to no success.

Slowly coming to terms with just how fucked he was, Carl looked straight ahead at the sound of footsteps, his body filled with dread. He watched as Negan's boots drew nearer, trying to think of a way out of his epic fuck up. When Negan put the toe of his boot beneath his nose he gulped in trepidation, the boot forcing him to slowly raise his gaze and look up. He seemed gargantuan above him, but to his surprise the expression he was met with was not one of fury or murderous intent, but amusement. Negan was laughing wildly, eyes alight with mirth. Nevertheless Carl did not breathe easy, bile rising in his throat as Lucille was lowered down towards him. Frozen, he held his breath when Negan brought the bat right down to his cheek, the barbed wire pressing against his skin.

"Damn," Negan grinned, sounding impressed. "You are adorable!"

Above him, Simon managed an incredulous laugh as he seized the back of Carl's shirt and wrenched him up to his knees. "Adorable? Kid fucking bit me."

"You bit me first!" he retorted angrily, the words escaping his mouth before he could think twice.

He quietened when he felt Lucille pressed more firmly against his cheek, highly conscious of the barbed wire that scratched at his skin. With a surge of revulsion he remembered that night, the sight and sound of this very bat swinging through the air, the thud it made when it connected with its target. Having it right there stoked a surge of rage within in, an aggression he tried to hide no matter what. He wasn't here to cause shit, not even to kill Negan, that would come later. All he needed to do was help Carrie, to get her and his sibling the hell away from here. Swallowing his rage Carl clenched his teeth and then pulled away from the bat, trying to calm his breathing as he looked up at Negan. It wasn't lost on him that he was once again on his knees in front of this mongrel, that he was unarmed and defenceless, but it wasn't himself he was afraid for.

"You know, you do the same damn stink eye for your dad does," Negan commented in amusement, suddenly extending his gloved hand to him. "Except it's only _half_ as good 'cause, well you know, you're…missing an eye."

Unable to say anything that wasn't inflammatory Carl instead remained silent, staring up at Negan and then to the hand he held out. _What the fuck was this?_

"Really?" Negan questioned, his voice darkening. "You're really not gonna take my hand? 'Cause you're lucky you even still have a hand," he threatened. "Same as your boy Daryl now that I think about it. His job would be tough with one hand."

Now he understood, the threats perfectly clear to him. Gritting his teeth he reached up and allowed Negan to take his hand. Pleased with his cooperation Negan pulled him to his feet in a single flourish, the look on his face making it seem light hearted and playful.

"Smart kid," he praised, clasping him on the shoulder. Taking a deep breath he straightened his shoulders and looked around, casting his gaze over the two dead men Carl had left in his wake. "Come with me."

Without another word Negan turned on his feel and started walking back to the Sanctuary, slinging Lucille over the front of his shoulder as he walked. Carl looked around and found where his hat had been tossed aside, grabbing it before hastening to follow Negan, passing by the various other Saviours who seemed equally surprised. In a state of numb disbelief he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. Two of Negan's men were dead, but he wasn't upset?

"Hey," he said loudly, catching up to Negan. "I'm here to-"

"I know why you're here," he said lightly, glancing down at him. "Kid, I ain't gonna lie. You scare the shit outta me!"

There wasn't a moment to respond, for a moment later they emerged from behind the concrete walls that flanked the road in. The Sanctuary towered above him, a behemoth of gigantic proportions. The exterior looks tired and dirty, like even a good hard scrub wouldn't make a difference. As they walked Carl looked around to the fences where Walkers ere chained up and impaled. There were heads on spikes and atop of the fences, one of them still alive and snarling at the wind. Over there with them was Daryl, standing at the fence with his hand clenched around the metal as he watched in dismay, his mouth agape in shock. Carl too looked at him in shock, barely able to raise his hand and wave. It felt like their visit to Alexandria had been weeks ago, not mere days.

"Hey!" Daryl was yelling out, rattling the fence and trying to keep up with them. "Wha' you got 'im for?"

Ignoring him completely Negan merely grabbed Carl by the scruff of his shirt, making him turn away from Daryl and follow him inside. When they stepped inside it took a moment for his vision to adjust to the dim light, and what he noticed first was that the room was abuzz with life and activity. The cavernous room seemed to be market hall of some kind, people sitting at tables piled high with supplies and junk, another area of beds separated by hanging sheets. For a moment he forgot what had just happened, his feet slowing so that he could look around in awe and surprise. But just as quickly Negan grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and kept him moving, getting impatient with him.

The people there were not at all like he expected, the population made up of men and women both young and old, but only very few of them carried guns and looked like soldier. As Negan walked the people would slow and stop, bowing their heads and sinking down onto one knee. Even an elderly looking man lowered himself, though Negan didn't seem to mind when he only managed to hunch over a little, not quite able to bend his knees.

Quickly leaving the cavernous room Carl followed Negan down a dimly lit hall and then up some stairs, and though people they passed continued to stop and kneel for Negan it was Carl that had their attention. They openly gawked at him as they wondered who he was, their eyes naturally drawn to his bandage, not that this motion was unusual.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked quietly, recalling what he knew of the prison cells they had been keeping Carrie in. Was that where they were going? Was he going to Carrie's cell? "Hey, I asked you where-"

"Patience is a god damn virtue," Negan cut him off, clearly reprimanding him. "Like father like fuckin' son…"

His repeated requests for information were ignored, and Carl had no choice but to fall silent. Instead he turned his attention to looking around, trying to keep track of where they were going, the many corridors all looking completely the same. They ascended three flights of stairs before they turned down a corridor that finally looked different, the walls nicely painted and the floor covered with thick, plush carpet. As they walked Carl started slowing to a stop, the decor feeling completely out of place…where the hell was he?

Halfway down they passed a set of double doors on his left, and then Negan stopped in front of a matching set further down on the right. Looking back at him he seemed to smirk, enjoying the tease of Carl not knowing what was about to happen, and then with a great flourish he seized the handle and pushed the door open with a great flourish.

"Ladies," he began cordially, stepping inside and ushering Carl to follow. "Don't mind the kid. He's Carrie's."

Incredulous, Carl entered and was confronted with something he hadn't quite believed would be real, Negan's wives. Lana had told them about this, that when she was a Saviour she had become so indebted that she faced little choice other than to marry him…was that what happened to these women too? There were five of them in that room, and he looked around at them with uncertainty, unsure of how to act or what to say. They were wearing short dresses with low cut fronts, and he was torn between wanting to look and turn away in embarrassment.

"I know," Negan murmured proudly, leaning down to him. "Every woman where you're from dresses like she does the books at an auto shop. You're gonna want to look at their titties," he suggested. "It's cool. I won't mind, they won't mind. Knock yourself out."

Still embarrassed, Carl quickly averted his gaze from the women, looking instead for any sign that Carrie might be there. Did Simon say there was a new wife? Was that her? A moment later Negan had clasped him on the shoulder and was ushering him through the room, his gloved hand clenching tighter than necessary. They made their way towards a hall on the opposite side, and as they went Carl felt the eyes of the woman watching him. It seemed he wasn't the only one trying not to stare.

"I need to show you something," Negan said smoothly, bringing him to a stop outside the very first door in the corridor. "Something important that I want you to see."

His heart was racing now, his stomach churning with nervousness as Negan politely knocked on the door and waited, but when no sound came from inside he pushed it open. Holding his breath, Carl tentatively looked inside, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn't find Carrie chained up inside like an animal. Instead it was a comfortable looking bedroom, absent of anyone inside, but in an instant he knew this was where Negan was keeping her. His gaze his immediately drawn to the bright yellow bag that sat on the floor beside the bed, the baby bag that belonged to Carrie. The day they left Alexandria he had raced home to get it, to ensure she would have everything she needed when the baby came.

"Mother fucker," Negan muttered darkly, looking pissed as he looked down the corridor to his wives. "Where the fuck is she?"

"Out," someone replied.

"Out, where?"

Going inside without invitation Carl looked around a little more, trying to fathom that this room was occupied by Carrie, that this was where she slept at night. Their fears that she was chained up in a dark cell could be abated now. She was being treated humanely, provided with a warm bed to sleep in, surrounded by Negan's wives and not the Saviours who might try to take advantage of her. Looking around a little more he took note of a few pill containers, and out of concern he studied them closely, relieved to see they were nothing more than vitamins.

Standing in the threshold Negan was impatiently barking orders into the radio. He was mobilising all of his men to go in search of Carrie, demanding they find her and promising great reward to whoever was successful.

"Come on, kid," he said gruffly, ushering him out of the room. "She's out roamin' around like she owns the joint. You and I can get to know one another a little more."

Dreading what that meant, he followed as Negan led him back through the living room and into the corridor, not even saying goodbye to his wives. As they entered the room across back down the corridor he removed the red scarf from around his neck and tossed it aside, Carl slowly following him. For a moment he stopped in his tracks, looking around at the bedroom that so clearly belonged to Negan, and then the door closed. He was stuck in there now, but this is what he had been asking for…all he wanted was to talk to Negan.

"Are all those woman actually your-"

"Wives?" Negan questioned, looking at him curiously. "Yeah. Always wanted to have sex with a whole bunch of different woman. I mean, why not make life better?" He held Carl's gaze for a moment, perhaps waiting for him to respond, but when he was silent he gestured towards the living area. "Speaking of…sit. Let's get started."

"Started on what?" he asked, tentatively sitting down in the armchair Negan had indicated. He watched as Negan passed by the couch and went to the far corner of the room, bustling around where he couldn't see him. While he waited he looked around the room, looking at the bed and the wardrobe, another door in the far corner of the room leading to what seemed to be a bathroom, but he paid them little attention. Left leaning against the arm of the leather couch was the baseball bat, Lucille. As he looked at it Carl resisted the urge to touch his cheek, the place where Negan had touched him with it. Why had he left it there? Wasn't he worried that he might grab it and use it against him? Then again, he knew Carl was in no position to do that.

"I wanna get to know you a little better," Negan said lightly, returning now. He carried two glass bottles, popping the caps off and then passing one to him. "Man to man. Beer to beer."

Taking it, he looked the bottle and recognised it as the home brew they made at the Kingdom. He remembered the day Chef and Gino had shown him around their brewery, how they had let him taste the different brews before teaching him how to put the caps on. Though he hadn't been fond of the taste he had enjoyed himself that day, secretly loving the way they treated him like more than a kid.

He wanted to keep the conversation going, but wasn't sure of what to say. Maybe it was better to let Negan do the talking. "Why?"

"Because you're smart," Negan praised him, tapping their glass bottles against one another before sinking down into the leather couch opposite. "In fact, I'm gonna tell you just how smart you are. See I'd expect a kid your age to be moping around, not doing a damn thing 'cept crying about missing the prom. But you - you go on a mission. You find me, you kill two of my men, and-"

"That's not why I came here," he said urgently, sitting forward in the seat. "I came here to work for you. I'm here to take Carrie's place."

For one long moment Negan held his gaze, studying him intently as the tension in the room became palpable. But before Carl could say anything else Negan was chuckling under his breath, his expression softening. "Drink up," he said, taking a sip of his own beer as he leant back into the couch. "What? You don't like beer?"

"I'm fifteen," he said dryly. "I'm more into Pepsi."

"Don't be rude, asshole. At least try it…you saw me pop the cap off and everything."

Not wanting to offend him Carl raised the bottle and drank. As he knew it would be it was still too bitter for his liking, yet he drank it without protest, hiding his dislike for it. The first time he had tried beer had been when Daryl gave him a sip of his, and though it had been revolting he had begged for more, more thrilled by the experience of doing something he shouldn't than by the taste.

"You know Carl, for a smart kid you sure as fuck do some stupid shit," Negan commented, draping one arm over the side of the couch so that he could stroke the handle of Lucille. "You have no idea what you being here really means, how stupid this was."

"You're the one being stupid," he said forcefully, trying to keep the conversation on track. He quickly reminded himself of his goal today, which was to get Carrie out of here even at his own expense. "You can't keep her here."

"Careful," Negan warned, though he didn't seem angry. "You being here…well, that's like using gasoline to put out a fire. You're making shit worse, especially since you just mowed down two of my finest."

"That guy shot himself."

Negan managed a chuckle now, actually amused. "And David?"

"I told him a Walker was coming, but he ignored me. Besides, I was defending myself."

Perhaps conceding this point, Negan seemed to let that particular incident go, but the smirk that came across his face was anything but forgiving. His upper lip curled, and he leant forward in interest now. "Ahhh, I can't. I can't do it," he said dramatically, laughing under his breath. "It's like talkin' to a birthday present. You got to take that shit off your face."

Carl gaped at him in disbelief, lips parted around the retort that he couldn't quite summon. His heart was pounding now, feeling as vulnerable as if Negan had told him to strip naked. "No."

"Two men!" Negan shouted now, the force and volume of his words making him lurch in surprise. He moved closer now, he too sitting on the edge of his seat as he peered over at Carl. "Two…men. Punishment. Do you really want to piss me off?"

Realising that he was serious, Carl dared to hold out as long as he could, hoping that Negan would change his mind. When no sign of that came he felt his shoulders slump, obeying without any further instruction. After all, what had he expected? Here he was nothing, he had no rights. Hoping this would get him back on Negan's good side he removed his hat and set it on the table, his head ducked and turned away as he slowly began to remove the bandage.

By now it was nothing more than an accessory, his skin graft having healed, but not quite ready to show the world the scars he was left with he had continued wearing the bandage. On the other couch Negan was eagerly awaiting the reveal, chuckling under his breath as he practically rubbed his hands together in glee. When the bandage was bundled up in his hands Carl kept his head bowed, noting a few drops of blood that marred the outer side.

"Get that hair out of your face, let me see," Negan instructed, eagerly leaning forward as Carl raised his head. "Ch-rist!" he shouted in delight, openly laughing. "That is disgusting, no wonder you cover that shit up! Those scars are gross as fuck. You look like Frankenstein's Monster."

Shuddering involuntarily, Carl let go of his hair and then faced Negan properly. He was staring at him with a twisted smile, reaching forward with his hand. "Fuck, it's all caved in over the socket…can I touch it? Come on, let me touch it."

Against his will he felt himself recoiling, disgusted when Negan reached out to touch him. But he couldn't hide the look that came over his face, the intense feeling of vulnerability. Months of self doubt and low self-esteem hit him all at once, for this was exactly the type of reaction he dreaded from people. Morbid interest and disgust was worse than the pitying stares. But to his disbelief Negan's expression fell too, his hand stopping in mid air. There was a moment of heavy silence before he withdrew his arm and averted his eyes, looking regretful.

"Shit kid…look," he began heavily. Taking a deep breath he leant back into the couch, no longer staring at him. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I was just breaking your balls, I didn't mean anything by it."

"Just, forget about it," he said softly, unravelling the bandage so he could put it back on.

"You look bad ass. I wouldn't cover that shit up," Negan said next. "In fact, leave it off. It might not be a hit with the ladies, but no one is gonna screw with you looking like that. No sir!"

Ignoring the instructions Carl found the end and then swiftly began putting the bandage back on, his head bowed and his hair draped over his face. But before he could even wind it around once Negan repeated his instructions.

"I said leave it off," he growled, moving to sit on the edge of his couch. "You wanna test me, kid?"

Feeling sick to his stomach Carl paused, bracing himself before doing what he was told. He clenched the bandage in his fist and forced himself to look up, to face Negan again. Though it had taken him by surprise he hadn't been naive. Being at the Sanctuary wasn't going to be a walk in the park, and this was the type of shit he would have to endure. He was Rick Grimes' son, a prize for the Saviours to make the most of…this would be just the start.

"That's better," Negan praised, sitting back again. "Facin' me like a man. Now it's like I said, I was just breaking your balls. It's men being men. Your dad is supposed to teach you this shit…but I'm willing to bet he doesn't have a fucking clue where you are right now. Where does he think you are?"

Glad for the change of subject, Carl took a slow breath to reorient himself. "Home."

"And how long 'till he finds out you're gone?"

He shrugged. "He's been out scavenging," he lied. "He hasn't been home in days."

"Well that is some good news," Negan cheerfully declared. "Not only is he going to bring me back some prime shit, this little incident here can fly under the radar. You see, Carl? You see how fucking reasonable I am?"

"I'm not going home. Carrie is."

Negan shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. You being here isn't helping shit."

"I am!" he argued, moving back to the edge of his seat. "I'm here to work for you! I'll do whatever shit you want. I can be your prisoner now."

"And tell me how that helps a damn thing? You swapping places with Carrie. How the fuck does that help your dad?"

"Like you wanna help my dad."

"I do," he stated calmly. "I do wanna help your dad, and he's almost there. But swapping you for her is not going to put his mind at ease. It's a parallel move, it achieves nothing."

"She's having a baby!"

"I hadn't missed that."

"I'm taking her place. She has to go home _today_ , before the baby comes."

Negan sighed now, rubbing his hand over his forehead. "And how does that help your dad?" he repeated. "Tell me. How does that help him?"

Carl blinked at him, astounded that he didn't get it. "She'll be home. She'll be safe. Her and the baby."

"Where are you?"

"Here. Working for you," he emphasised.

"And there's the problem," Negan declared, taking another sip of his beer. "Now you might not fucking care where you are, and truth be told I'd love to have you here. You're so corruptible, far easier to break than Daryl. But your dad? Your dad would be right up my ass."

"He wouldn't. Not if Carrie was free."

Staring him down Negan would not budge. "You believe the shit comin' out of your mouth? You really think your dad would just let you stay here?"

No, he didn't believe that. "It's better than how things are now."

"And exactly what do you think is going on here? Now I know I might have suggested a few things," he said lightly. "I might have told your dad some fucked up shit that I can't repeat in the presence of children…but you saw her room. She's my prisoner but she's not being mistreated. A warm bed, three meals a day, all the snacks she can stuff in her mouth, a doctor who knows what he's doing, a-"

"None of that matters. She needs to go home, she can't have the baby here."

Pausing now, Negan appeared to consider this last point, but he shook his head. "Not yet," he emphasised, holding Carl's gaze. "Your dad has to earn it first."

"That's not good enough," Carl shook his head. "Please…let her go home. With or without me, just let her go."

There was a knock at the door, the interruption making Carl falter for a moment, but Negan was unconcerned. He continued holding Carl's gaze before setting his beer onto the coffee table and rising then to his feet. "You're damn lucky I'm in a good mood. If Bridget hadn't started my day so well I'd be sending you home with Daryl's hand," he said darkly, making his way towards the door. "Hell…maybe I still will."

Leaving their conversation unfinished Negan opened the door and found Simon on the other side, and Carl watched the two of them conversing. Simon peered inside and glanced at him, but following that showed him no interest, his attention on Negan instead. The two men were talking quietly, the door left slightly ajar and Negan's back turned. As if trying to make it worse for himself Carl looked back at Lucille, purposefully left leaning against the side of the couch. It was indeed a test, for Carl could easily use it to arm himself, but he knew that would be the wrong move. He wasn't here to stir up shit, enough of that had been done already…he was here to free Carrie. That was his only priority…killing Negan could wait for another day.

"There you are!" Negan loudly exclaimed. "We've been searching every nook, cranny and asshole for you!"

Carl's heart leapt into his throat, and he found himself rising to his feet. Was that Carrie? Was she out there? The door had been left ajar, but it wasn't enough for him to see out of, and nor could he hear any of the conversation outside that wasn't shouted by Negan. Whoever was out there continued talking a little longer, but only Negan's voice was audible.

"Indeed it is, Simon," he said loudly. "Go on now, get down there and set this up."

Carl waited apprehensively, for who could it be out there but Carrie? He had heard Negan over the radios telling his men to find her, surely they had by now. While he waited he looked down at himself, trying to neaten his hair and clothes. He didn't want her to see that he'd been hurt, for it was going to be be hard enough already convincing her to leave in his place. She needed to see that he would be alright here, that he could handle himself at the Sanctuary. All that mattered was getting her out. Nevertheless when Negan opened the door and ushered her inside he wasn't quite ready, and the moment he saw her crossing the threshold his mouth went dry and his mind blank.

She gave an audible gasp when she saw him standing there, stopping dead in her tracks and staring at him. He tried to think of something to say, anything that might ease the look of dread coming over her face, but all he managed to do was awkwardly raise one hand in a half-hearted greeting. In that split second he looked her up and down, conscious that although she definitely didn't look her best right now, she was as Negan assured him, perfectly well. Unlike the day they brought her to Alexandria she was fully clothed with shoes and a pink denim jacket, a lightweight scarf tied around her neck and woollen gloves sticking out of her pocket. Like always he felt his gaze drawn down to her round belly, the very reason he had come here today. Maybe it was just that he hadn't seen her in so long, or perhaps it was the fact that her jacket stood no chance of reaching around her girth, but she seemed even bigger now, practically ready to pop. It only served to reinforce his determination to help her.

"Oh damn!" Negan gleefully laughed, closing the door and then looking between the two of them. "Did you see that moment? That was the moment she shit her pants!"

Carrie gaped at him a moment longer, her shoulders quaking before she turned to Negan in dismay. "What is he doing here?" she asked, her voice wavering.

Negan was grinning now, clasping his hands together in delight. "Your kid fell outta the Stupid Tree and hit all the branches coming down. He just fought three grown men to come and see you. Three on one, and he almost came out on top!"

Looking between the two as though it might be some sick joke, Carrie staggered a little as she started towards him. "Carl…"

"I'm okay," he whispered, letting her push his hair back to look at his face. While she looked at him in fear he looked up at her in wonder, so grateful that she was still alive, that the baby was okay. He couldn't believe it was her, that she was really there. He couldn't help himself, and though he normally asked before doing this he reached out and put his hand on her belly, taking a reminder of why he had to do this.

"What is he doing here?" she demanded, glancing over her shoulder.

"Don't give me that tone," Negan retorted, though he still seemed light hearted. "I had nothing to do with it. He wants to take your place."

At this Carrie froze, her eyes narrowing while she looked back at him. "Carl, no," she whispered. "That can't happen."

This he had expected, but he had what he felt was a compelling argument. "I will be okay here. The baby could come any day now," he whispered urgently, seeing that she was not convinced. "It can't be born here, not with him!"

For a moment he was hopeful, certain that the way she looked at him indicated her agreement, that she understood. But a moment later she was pulling her hands away from him, taking a heavy breath as she stepped back and turned to Negan.

"We both know that he cannot stay here."

Negan raised his eyebrows in surprise, still grinning. "Well, shit a brick and fuck me with it," he laughed. "Did you and I just agree on something?"

"Let him go, please. Give him a car and just-"

"He's got a car. One he stole from daddy."

"Then let him go!" she said firmly, stepping towards him. "Just let him go and it's like it never happened."

"Never happened?" he said in disbelief, gesturing to Carl. "He killed two of my men. Although I do have to agree on one point, Dom shot himself."

"Negan, please."

Carl watched on incredulously, taken aback by the way Carrie and Negan spoke with one another. There was a sense of familiarity between them, certainly not loyalty or allegiance, but he could see that she was comfortable talking to him like this, asking him for something that she didn't deserve. Negan too carried that air of familiarity, his expression softening into one of understanding as he came a few steps closer to her, lowering his voice.

"Sit down, and we'll sort this shit out."

There was a long pause now, Carrie looking up at Negan in trepidation, her shoulders heaving with each breath she took. "Thank you."

 _What the fuck? She was thanking him?_

"Carrie," he hissed, taking her by the arm and making her look at him. "I'm not leaving here until you're free."

"Just sit down," she replied, ushering him towards the other arm chair. "Please Carl, just do what I ask."

"I'm not leav-"

"Now," she growled under her breath, her eyes narrowing. Making herself perfectly clear she gave him a firm squeeze of the arm, holding his gaze until he finally cooperated.

Unable to believe what was happening, Carl had no choice but to do as she had asked, and trying not to let Negan think he had won he slowly sat down in the far armchair. Meanwhile Carrie and Negan were doing the same thing, Negan slumping down onto his couch and relaxing back into the cushions while she awkwardly lowered herself into the opposite chair. As she got comfortable she looked at the coffee table where he had set his hat and the bandage, but her eyes widened when she saw what else was there.

"Did you give him a beer?" she asked in outrage.

"What? You want one too?"

"He's fifteen!"

"Chr-ist!" he rolled his eyes, draping his arm over the side of the couch so that he could stroke Lucille. "This feels like some kind of parent teacher conference. You yelling at me, blaming me for shit I had nothing to do with."

"I d-"

"Refusing to believe that your perfect little prince didn't come here just to fuck shit up and ruin my day!"

Carrie seemed to take a moment now, trying to gather her thoughts. "You came here alone, right?" she asked Carl, turning back to Negan when she had her answer. "If you don't let him go they'll come here looking for him.

"Damn right they will. And the last thing I need is Rick rocking up here and ridin' my ass."

"Then what's there to discuss? Let him go."

"And then what?" Negan asked, feigning outrage. "I don't get my licks in? Come on Carrie, there's gotta be some form of retribution for what happened today."

At this she scoffed. "Four of my people are dead, when all we did was defend ourselves. You don't think we've had enough of _retribution_ already?"

"What's enough?"

Carrie shook her head, refusing the matter. "No. There will be no retribution. I know what you want, Negan."

This comment gauged Negan's interest, and Carl's too. What did Carrie know that they didn't? Negan was leaning forward now, his elbows on his knees as he peered at her in interest. "Oh? What is it that I want?"

"Peace and quiet," she said simply. "You want things running smoothly, and you know there's only so far you can push Rick and Alexandria. There's a line between them cooperating and them fighting back. Letting Carl go home means that line is not crossed."

"I'm not going home," Carl said forcefully, still trying to stand his ground. "Not until she does."

"Your opinion is not of interest," Negan dismissed him, not once taking his eyes away from Carrie. "Drink your beer and shut up."

"Please, Negan," she pleaded, holding his gaze. "You can't push Rick anymore, I know him…he won't be able to take this. He'll panic and do something stupid, and then…"

Negan raised his hand, making her words trail off. "I'll take him home. Unharmed," he added as an afterthought. "But I'm going to need something from you first."

Without hesitation Carrie nodded. "What?'

"You're right," he commented, taking his beer in hand and then settling back into the couch, relaxing now. "What you said about the line between cooperation and fighting back. Daryl is toeing that line right now. I need you to help me, help him."

"Help him, how?" she asked suspiciously.

"He's gotta give up this futile resistance," Negan sighed. "Dwight's about to swallow his own gun, Simon's ready for blood…and so am I. Things are turning ugly, fast. But Daryl can make a good soldier for me. I want to prevent blood being drawn."

Carrie glanced over at him now, her face fraught with worry, but Carl said nothing. He was hanging on to every word spoken, trying to gleam as much information as possible. Negan intended to make Daryl fight for him as a soldier? While it had occurred to them that Daryl would be sent to work for him, none of them had anticipated that would be as a soldier. No matter what Daryl might be suffering through, Carl couldn't see him changing sides and fighting against his own people. Daryl would rather die himself than do that to them.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Help me reason with him. It's in his best interests."

"I told you, he'll never work for you."

"Not unless you ask him to," Negan implored, his voice softening. "I know you love him. Why else would you be bringing him food, water and blankets every day? He can get himself out of that shit-hole, but he won't…but for you he would. Carl too, since he's here. The two of you, reasoning with him, asking him to kneel…it's for his benefit."

Carrie went quiet now, lowering her head. Her hand was resting atop her belly, the usual place she kept it over the last two months or so. "If he doesn't want to kneel to you, then nothing I say will make him."

"That's the deal, Carrie. That's the retribution that must be paid for Rick's mini douche bag over there," he said roughly, gesturing to Carl. "Daryl will kneel…but I'm giving you the chance to make sure he kneels before any blood is shed. Hell, before any _more_ blood is shed."

It seemed these words were not without impact. Carrie said nothing in response, her head still lowered and her gaze resting on her belly. While she mulled over her options Carl glared at Negan, furious with how this had all turned out. His presence here was now a mere afterthought, and he had completely rejected the notion of him taking Carrie's place. It didn't help that Carrie too had rejected it, and although he had expected some resistance he hadn't been prepared for her outright refusal. What the hell was she thinking? He was giving her the chance to get away from this place, for her and the baby to be free…why the hell wasn't she taking it?

"I'll try," she said quietly, looking up at Negan. "But if he refuses, please just give him more time. Don't hurt him."

With a great sigh of satisfaction Negan began to stand, setting his empty beer bottle onto the coffee table. "That's why I'm trying to avoid," he replied, trying to offer her some comfort. "But we're nearly at that point. I'm going to need you to be _very_ compelling."

"Compelling, how?"

He smiled at her, but his expression felt cold. "I'm sure you'll figure it out," he said softly, getting to his feet.

"We're going now?"

"Yep," he nodded, picking up Lucille and resting her on the front of his shoulder. "Right now."

"Take Carl home first."

"Nope. Retribution is paid, and then he goes home."

When he extended his hand down to her Carl leapt to his feet, outraged by the thought of Negan laying a hand on her. "I got her," he said quickly, coming forward to where she sat.

Not caring Negan simply waved him off, turning away while he helped Carrie out of the low armchair. As she stood to her feet and straightened her clothes Carl took advantage of the only opportunity he might have to talk to her quietly.

"What are you doing?" he whispered to her, trying to understand. "I can get you out of here."

She shook her head as she looked him in the eye. "I'm staying, and you're going," she whispered back. "Trust me, please."

Without another word she turned away and picked his hat up for him, passing it over before taking the bandage and hastily beginning to roll it up. As she did so she looked down at him in concern, brushing his hair off his forehead and inspecting his face.

"I need a first aid kit," she said to Negan, looking at him expectantly.

"Later."

"He's hurt and bleeding," she said in annoyance, sounding pissed at Negan's refusal. "He nee-"

"Just hold your damn horses," Negan insisted, ushering them both towards the door. "We're headed down to Carson anyway."

"Who's Carson?" he asked quietly, he and Carrie making their way into the corridor outside Negan's room.

"The doctor here," she replied, looking back down the hallway to the door that led to where the wives lived. There was a brief commotion, and when Carl looked back he caught a glimpse of someone rushing back inside their door, making him suspect they had been lingering in the corridor, just waiting to get a glimpse.

"Chop chop," Negan said impatiently, locking the door to his room and then striding past them. As he walked he raised his radio and sent out a call. "Alexandria and I are on our way. Make sure he's ready."

"Copy that. Over."

"Are you Alexandria?"

"Just walk," she said quietly, hastening to follow Negan down the corridor.

Doing as she asked he quietened now, paying attention to where they were going. The Sanctuary was a confusing jumble of corridors and staircases, all of the walls painted the same shade of green just to make it all the more confusing. As quickly as he had upon entering Carl lost track of where they were, unable to discern the direction in which they were heading. All he knew was that they were going down, and that every time they passed another person they were met with curious stares, and not just because of his scarred face. Every step of the way Carrie was right by his side, the two of them close enough they could link arms if they wanted.

"You doing alright back there?" Negan called, five or so strides ahead of them. "Keeping up, Pregosaurus Rex?"

"I'm fine," she answered, ignoring his efforts to tease her. Nevertheless she was a little short of breath, and her left arm was wound around the side of her belly as if trying to hold it up.

"The baby?" Carl whispered in concern, going ahead of her one step as they descended another staircase. "Is it okay?"

She just nodded, but she managed a smile. "The baby's okay," she whispered back when they reached the next floor. "You can tell your dad that it turned over. It's going to be fine."

"You need to go home," he repeated, still trying to get through to her. "Please Carrie, just let me help."

Yet again she shook her head. "I need to stay here."

Ahead of them in the corridor was Simon, lingering there alone as he waited for their arrival. Carl's heart was pounding in trepidation, fearful for what this all meant for Daryl. Would Carrie be able to convince him to cooperate? Was it even the right thing to do? If he was managing to hold out then surely that was his choice. They shouldn't be trying to change his mind.

"Everyone ready?" Negan asked his right hand man.

"Ready."

"Excellent," he said, turning around to look at Carl and Carrie behind him. "This is going to come out aces."

It seemed they were in for a brief wait, and Carl restlessly looked over his shoulder down the corridor they had just come down. It felt eery down here, the corridors lacking natural light while every footstep and word spoken seemed to echo. Though he had lost track of where he was Carl suspected they were back on the ground level, having counted the flights up and then the flights back down. Beside him Carrie seemed mostly at ease, though he could see she was a little nervous, as was he for that matter. What was Negan going to make her say in order to get through to Daryl? What would the threat be?

Further down the corridor appeared two figures, and even at a distance Carl recognised Daryl's silhouette and gait. He walked with his head down, escorted by Dwight who had a firm grip around his arm. As they drew closer Carl craned his neck to get a proper look at Daryl, worried about what shape he was in. He'd been shot the night they were captured by the Saviours, and the week prior to that he'd been stabbed in the lower belly. It was no stretch of the imagination to think that he was getting subpar medical care here, that they didn't care for his welfare. As he dwelled on this Carl's stomach churned with guilt, remorseful that he didn't have any kind of plan to help Daryl. He could see a solution only for Carrie, she had to be his priority…but that didn't mean it was going to be easy leaving Daryl here to fend for himself.

"Simon says c'mere, kid," Simon growled at him, seizing him by the upper arm and roughly yanking him away from Carrie. "Stand here and watch."

"Come on," Carl protested, looking at him in disdain as he tried wrenching his arm out of the grip. "Let me go."

In that instant the atmosphere became tense, Carrie echoing his protests and turning to Negan, but she trailed off as two women appeared out of nowhere and seized her by each arm. She looked at them in confusion, her eyes darting over to Carl before she turned the the blonde woman. "Laura, what are you doing?"

Further down the corridor Daryl raised his head and looked at him, having heard Carrie's voice. His expression was mostly hidden by his hair, and for a moment he simply looked at them with no reaction, but a split second later everything changed. Without warning he lunged towards them with a loud yell, breaking free of Dwight's grip and charging down the corridor.

"Here we go!" Negan laughed in delight, setting Lucille aside as he stepped in front of Daryl.

"Don't fucking touch her!" he yelled, crashing into Negan and fighting to get past him. "Don' touch her!"

A nearby door opened, a man in a white doctor's coat appearing in the threshold, and as though he was the catalyst the corridor descended into chaos. Carrie let out an earsplitting scream, struggling against the two women who were inexplicably wrestling her towards the open door where the doctor stood waiting. Though he had no idea what was happening to her Carl too dissolved into a panic, following Daryl's attempts of trying to lunge for the door. He needed to help her, to get those mongrels off her, but he stood no chance of doing anything.

Simon had a vice grip on his arm, and he was laughing cruelly as he put his hand around the front of his throat and then held him at arm's length. Like before he squeezed tightly though still allowed him to draw breath, but Carl couldn't fend him off. He was too far away, his arms and legs could barely reach him no matter how hard he fought and flailed. Nearby Daryl too was fighting, kicking and thrashing against Dwight who had taken both his arms behind his back.

"Negan!" Carrie pleaded, one hand grabbing hold of the door frame and clinging to it. "Negan, please don't!"

"Come on now," the doctor said patiently, watching the Saviours prying her hand away from the door. "Let's make this easy on yourself, alright? You're going to be in for a long day here."

"Please Negan! Please…"

She stood no chance against them, and Carl stood no chance of helping her, and before he could do a thing she disappeared from sight into the room. There came an almighty crash, one of the Saviours swearing while the doctor patiently called for Carrie to calm down, to stop fighting them. Looking in from the outside Negan seemed to cringe a little, watching on before turning back around to Carl. With a shrug of his shoulders he looked at him sympathetically.

"You see, kid? Retribution."

* * *

A/N - I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and sorrynotsorry for the cliff hanger. But fear not, there will be a small Carrie and Rick scene in Chapter 57, so something to look forward to if Negan's getting you down!

Plenty of drama next chapter, and not just from Carrie!

Please do leave a review :-)


	56. Chapter 56

The moment Carrie saw Carl there in Negan's room she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach, flabbergasted. Already terrified about what this meant she found herself dumbstruck, unable to find the words at first. What had happened to have brought him here without warning? Had the Saviours taken him by force the way they had to her and Daryl? Or worse…had they taken him as retribution for something that had happened back home in Alexandria?

Once she managed to get over the shock of it all, in particular the notion that Carl had come here of his own free will, Carrie knew she had to advocate for him. She had to protect him, for even if she could tolerate the notion of him taking her place there, allowing him to do so would ruin everything. Her and Daryl's escape was almost planned, and her being sent home now would mean Daryl got left behind. He wouldn't stand a chance without her there to help him…he might not survive long enough for Negan to even turn him. So she was left with no choice but to get Carl home safely, and fast, and to her utter relief Negan was in agreement.

In spite of everything this man had done, when he told her he would take Carl home unharmed she trusted that he would. Negan hadn't gone back on his word with her about anything, and she suspected that in a strange, sick way, he cared about the Alexandrians. There seemed to be something more than the notion of keeping in tact the work force who provided for the Saviours. Small comments here and there seemed to indicate a somewhat paternal feeling for the people he ruled, a genuine belief that he was helping them. It was for that reason that Carrie trusted when he said he would take Carl home, that he was willing to let this go if she helped him with one little thing.

At first she was glad that they had stopped outside Carson's office, for maybe this was part of the play, a sweetener for Daryl to kneel. All Carrie had to do was get them through the next few hours in tact. Once Carl was safely at home she would be able to enact her plan, and certainly the way things were going indicated she had to do it sooner rather than later. Whatever was going on in the world outside the Sanctuary, she needed to do her part to ensure Rick didn't do anything rash. Even if Carl came home safely, it still might be the tipping point for him to do something rash. So for now Daryl was going to have to submit to Negan and kneel…it wouldn't be for long.

When Daryl was escorted down the halls she had been glad, relieved to see him up close even if he did look terrible in appearance. But she was distracted when Laura and Arat appeared, taking her by the elbow without reason…and then she saw the terror on Daryl's face. As if someone had turned on a light she realised the trap she had just walked in to, that Negan's request she help Daryl change his mind wasn't going to be achieved through conversation, but through violence. Negan had tricked her, and despite every assurance he had given her this past week he didn't care if he hurt her. None of them cared, not even Laura and Arat who so cruelly forced her into Carson's office.

"Don't fucking touch her!" Daryl yelled, crashing into Negan and trying to get past him. "Don' touch her!"

With a huge surge of energy she miraculously wrenched her arm out of Laura's grip, managing to clumsily shove her away just as they crossed the threshold. She lunged back the way she had come, grabbing the door frame and clinging to it as she caught a glimpse of Carl's panicked face, seeing the way Simon was subduing him with his hand around his neck.

"Negan!" she pleaded, clinging to the door frame with one hand. "Negan, please don't."

"Come on now," Carson said patiently. "Let's make this easy on yourself, alright? You're going to be in for a long day here."

"Please Negan!" she begged, whimpering as Laura forcibly pried her hand from the door frame and resumed a tighter hold of her now. "Please…"

Chaos had ensued outside the room, Daryl and Carl both shouting for her, fighting against their respective captors while Negan lingered between them in the threshold, watching all three scenes playing out. As they forced her completely into the room Carrie did everything she could to resist, her feet scrambling to find traction on the linoleum floor, her body taking over conscious thought and fighting. Everything became a blur of angry shouts as she flailed about, kicking wildly at a cabinet whose contents rattled. She screamed pathetically, tears springing up in her eyes as she threw all of her weight against Arat and sent her crashing into a small table.

"Calm her down," Negan ordered from the threshold, watching on in concern. "Don't let her hurt herself."

While Arat groaned and slowly picked herself up from the floor Laura seized her from behind, looping her arms underneath hers and forcing them into the air. Taking control of her legs Carson took each of her knees and lifted her clean off her feet, panting with exertion as he tried to keep up with her flailing. With all her strength she kicked up at him, making him stumble and go crashing into a cart of medical supplies, but he stayed upright and maintained his grip on her.

"Over to the bed," he instructed, gesturing to it with his head. "Lay her down."

She stopped fighting in the brief moment it took for them to carry her across to the examination bed, but when she felt Carson release her legs and Laura's grip slacken she lurched up again, trying to get away. Aided by the paper sheet on the mattress she slid off the bed and got back to her feet, finding herself free but still cornered. There was a brief standoff now, backed up against the bed faced with Carson, Laura and Arat, each of them intent on bringing some kind of harm to her, she just didn't yet know what.

"Laura, don't anything to me," she whispered, begging her. "Please."

"Look at me, Carrie," Laura panted softly, taking the unusual step of addressing her by her actual name. "It's going to be okay."

While her attention was elsewhere Arat lunged at her again, grabbing her wrist and slapping a metal handcuff around it. Giving another panicked cry Carrie grabbed at it, uselessly trying to push it off her wrist, but she only made her situation worse, the proximity of her other hand making it all too easy for Arat to loop the cuff around the bottom of the bed frame before securing it around her other wrist. Nearing hysteria she yanked as hard as she could, determined to break out of these cuffs if it was the last thing she did, but they didn't budge. She yanked again and again, the force of her desperation pulling the bed towards her.

"Negan, please," she whimpered, looking up at him. He stood in the threshold watching on, eyes filled with cold malice, and she couldn't fathom that she had actually started to trust him in some respects. "Don't do this. Help me, please!"

Her cries for help fell on deaf ears, Negan ignoring her before Laura took her scarf from around her neck and wound it around her head, forcing it into her mouth and securing it into place. Her voice was muffled but not yet silenced, and she called out to Negan again when she felt her shirt being lifted up. Standing behind her Caron was slipping a fabric strap around the girth of her belly, and she suddenly had visions of him tightening the strap in order to hurt her, to kill the baby. She threw her head back as hard as she could, trying unsuccessfully to head butt him as she tried to push the strap away from her belly. Carson persisted, and she didn't stop thrashing until he had stepped away, leaving the strap tight around her belly but not uncomfortably so. With tears in her eyes she looked over her shoulder at the cord connected to the strap, realising it was a monitor for the baby.

"Doctor Carson," Negan began light heartedly. "Do tell our guest what you're doing."

Waiting for him to explain Carrie breathed heavily through her nose, looking out into the corridor. She could see Daryl standing there, silent now as he watched on, and though she couldn't see him she knew Carl was out there too, forced to wait helplessly.

"After checking for dilation of the cervix, I will administer a vaginal suppository of the hormone _prostaglandin_ ," Carson explained, taking a blood pressure cuff. "This hormone will cause the cervix to efface and dilate in preparation for birth."

A gut wrenching moan echoed in Carrie's throat, her knees feeling weak. Wide eyed with terror she watched as Carson began straightening the tray of medical instruments he had prepared, her eyes falling upon a stainless steel speculum.

"Please don't do this." The bandage muffled her voice, but her words were still audible, and so she turned to Laura in desperation. "Laura, please! It's too early."

"Should contractions not begin within four hours I will administer an injection of _pitocin_ ," Carson continued explaining, approaching now. "A synthetic form of the hormone _oxytocin_ , which will begin uterine contractions necessary for the delivery of the baby."

As he spoke he clicked his fingers in her direction, signalling to Arat and Laura. Working together they swiftly pulled her jacket from her shoulders and pushed it as far down her arms as they could, allowing Carson to slip the blood pressure cuff around her bicep. While he began inflating it Carrie looked around again, trying to make Arat or Laura look at her, but they were both avoiding her gaze, too cowardly to look her in the eye. Feeling like she was about to be sick she looked out into the corridor, pleading with Negan again to help her, to stop them doing this.

Negan showed no mercy, and instead turned his attention to Carl. "You see, Carl," he lectured cruelly. "This is what happens when you don't follow the rules. There are consequences. I made your father come this fucking close to cutting off your arm, but I was merciful. I stopped him at the last second so that he could learn from his mistake. Except this time?" he said loudly, pointing at Carrie. "Well this time you ought'a fucking know better!"

Out of sight Carl was saying something, his voice too low for Carrie to hear, yet she hung on to every word. As he spoke she turned to Carson, trying to reason with him as he finished reading her blood pressure and removed the cuff, but like everyone else he ignored her completely.

"You didn't follow the rules!" Negan shouted angrily, berating Carl. "I gave you a chance, and you all but told me to shove it up my khyber pass."

"No!" he protested. "I didn't mean that. I'm just trying to help!"

"Well, now? Now it's time to face the goddamn consequences," Negan decided. Finished with him he turned back to Carrie, looking her in the eye and holding her gaze. "Carson. Go ahead."

"Yes, Sir." Doing as he was asked he donned a pair of rubber gloves, taking a small tube of lubricant and smearing it onto his fingers. "Remove her jeans and underwear, put her on the bed."

She was hysterical now, screaming unintelligibly for them to stop. Trying everything to protect herself she braced against the bed, forcing the handcuffs up her wrist so she could reach the top of her jeans. She moaned when she remembered what she was wearing, that the elasticised fabric at the front made them perfect for slipping on and off without resistance, and now that would work against her. Thrashing against them to no avail she finally realised what she had to do, what Negan wanted her to do…

"Daryl!" she cried out, her desperation tearing at her throat. "Daryl, please!"

She felt her jeans lowered below her hips, but the visceral moan she gave was one of utter relief. In the midst of all the chaos that ensued Daryl was lowering himself down, kneeling on one knee before Negan with his head bowed. Among the Saviours there was no question as to what had just happened, Arat and Laura stopping what they were doing to watch on while a smile slowly appeared on Negan's face. Tearing his eyes away from Carrie he turned around to look at Daryl, and upon seeing him on one knee he raised a hand, all motion stopping immediately.

There was an excruciating silence, broken only by the sound of Carrie's panted breaths. For what felt like forever Negan stared down at Daryl, and then swiftly he lowered Lucille and brought her to his cheek, tapping her barbed wire against his skin.

"Who are you?"

There was a pause, but Daryl answered. "Negan."

"Louder," he demanded, pressing Lucille harder against his cheek. "Who are you?"

"I'm Negan," Daryl repeated, gaze still fixed on the ground before him.

"Who?"

"Negan!"

Crouching down he grabbed him around the jaw and forced him to look up, roughly shaking him. "Say it again."

"I'm Negan," he growled, his voice not wavering once. "I'm Negan."

"You're damn right you are." Finally satisfied Negan released him, standing up with a great flourish. "What's it been, Dwighty Boy? A week?"

"Nine days," Dwight answered.

"Well, what do you fucking know?" Negan pondered, looking down at Daryl. "You held out admirably, I'll give you that." He paused for a moment, clearing his throat as he looked around at everyone, his gaze settling on Carrie before he turned back to Dwight. "Take our newest Negan back to his cell. Let him think about this in solitary confinement, just to be sure he knows who he really is."

While Dwight took Daryl by the scruff of his shirt and wrenched him back to his feet, Arat and Laura too were taking action. Gentler with her now they were pulling her jeans back up, softly murmuring to her as they pulled the scarf from her mouth, but Carrie didn't hear a word of what they said. She gripped the metal railing of the bed tightly, feeling like her whole body was paralysed with shock. Inside her she felt the baby moving, nothing more than a lazy stretch, but it was of little comfort to her. If she dared move she would surely be sick, her knees would give out.

"And you, you little shit," Negan continued, his voice becoming angry again as he turned to Carl. Stepping forward he grabbed Carl by the arm and wrenched him towards the doorway, forcing him to look inside. "Look at her…take a good long look at her."

Carl was white faced and trembling, his features screwed up as he tried to hold himself together, and at the sight of him she had to look away. She closed her eyes and lowered her head, trying to hold in the great wail of despair that wanted to erupt from inside of her. It hadn't been real, it was all just a ploy…she told herself that again and again, but she couldn't hold back the shudder that swept through her body. What if it had been real? What if everything was a lie and Negan really did want her baby for himself?

"That's what you did," Negan said cruelly. "You did that to her."

"I get it," he breathed, his words wavering with emotion.

"You get what?"

Carl hesitated, trying to catch his breath. "I need to follow the rules."

Silence followed now, everyone waiting with bated breath for Negan to decide whether or not he was satisfied. As they waited Carrie tried to collect herself, sniffling as she caught her breath.

"Simon, take him out to the trucks. We're gonna take this little shit back home to daddy and snitch on him," he said, his words followed by footsteps. "And no, you can't say goodbye."

With their fading footsteps came silence, and slowly Carrie managed to open her eyes again and look up. She expected to see Negan there, had braced herself to face him after what he had just done to her, but he was gone. What happened here was a mere after thought to him, he didn't give a shit about what had happened, and the magnitude of this was not lost on her.

She was dimly aware of the fact that she was still standing there in Carson's room, that the monitor strap around her belly had vanished and that Laura was straightening her clothes for her. As if in a trance she stayed still and silent while Arat opened the handcuffs around her wrists and freed her, avoiding eye contact when she quickly departed at the call of her name over the radio.

"Carrie, can you look at me?" Laura asked, her voice soft and gentle. "Look at me, Carrie. You're okay. Your baby is okay."

When Laura touched her arm the sensation jolted her, making her feel like it had been an electric shock, not touch intended to comfort her. Her body felt like it didn't belong to her, and almost as if she was watching from the other side of the room she saw herself slapping Laura's hand away. She stared at her incredulously, unable to believe that she was trying to comfort her after what she had just done, the twisted mind fuck she had been party too.

"It's okay, Carrie," she said softly, trying to reassure her. "You're fine."

Infuriated beyond words, Carrie spat at her. To her satisfaction Laura's shoulders slumped, and without protest she wiped her face clean with her sleeve, knowing she deserved that. Ashamed of herself she looked away, not even trying to excuse what she had done.

Carrie felt her body break into tremors, tears spilling from her eyes. Suddenly her heart was racing again, the room starting to feel increasingly small as she struggled to catch her fleeting breath. She looked around the room, the mess of overturned furniture and scattered medical supplies evidence of the fight she had put up, her failed efforts to protect herself and her baby. If Daryl hadn't knelt to Negan she would have been powerless to stop them continuing as long as they dared.

"I understand your distress," Carson said softly, pulling off his gloves and setting them down onto a cart. "But please know that you were never in any danger. This was all a pretence, a performance ultimately for Daryl's benefit."

When Carson took a step towards her Carrie recoiled, feeling bile rising in her throat. "Don't touch me," she shouted in disgust, staggering away from him.

Carson seemed not to take offence to this, remaining patient with her. He gestured to the cart, pointing out the various elements he had set out on the tray. "I had no intention of inducing labour. The pitocin is merely a vial of standard saline, and I would have never performed a pelvic examination without your consent."

Carrie stared at him in disbelief, still unable to catch her breath. Completely enraged she rushed forward, seizing the tray of supplies and then hurling them at him, vindicated when he ducked his head and cowered.

"I'll kill you," she screamed, using the metal cart to shove him back against the wall. "I'll kill you if you ever touch me again!"

Enjoying his cry of shock she shoved the cart at him again, ignoring the way Laura told her to stop. Losing all semblance of control she lunged at his desk, using her arm in one great motion to sweep everything off to the floor, the indiscriminate destruction of his office offering a small sense of vindication. Unable to stop now she opened a nearby cabinet, Carson and Laura watching on as she grabbed one of the shelves and yanked hard, the brackets collapsing and sending glass vials and bottles of medicine crashing to the floor.

"Carrie, stop!" Laura shouted, lunging at her. "Stop!"

Wrenching the computer keyboard from the socket she whirled around and swung it through the air, missing Laura by inches. Nevertheless it sent her stumbling back in alarm, her feet slipping out from under her and making her fall to the ground amongst the debris. Laura looked up at her in shock, she and Carson both speechless as they watched her destroying everything within her reach, but it was nearly over now. She felt the sensation returning to her limbs, blood surging through her veins as her head cleared. Regaining control of herself she stared at Carson, disgusted by him. Like her he was panting for breath, sprawled out against the wall where she had shoved him, and she held his gaze as she did one last thing.

With both hands she seized the his beloved computer and dragged it off the desk, Laura scrambling to get out of the way. The screen tumbled to the floor where it smashed in spectacular fashion, quickly followed by the hardware tower to which it was connected. The sound was the climax of her destruction, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Clearing his throat, Carson got back to his feet and straightened his white coat. He spent a moment looking at what was left of his office before turning his gaze back to her, his eyes cold. "It's a boy," he said dryly. "Congratulations."

In the back of her mind it registered what he had done, that he had cruelly taken a shared moment of surprise and joy from her and Rick, but right now her baby's gender was the least of her concerns. She held his gaze a moment longer before walking away, her sneakers crunching over the debris field of broken glass and possessions, and she lingered only to kick a few pieces towards Laura who still lay on the ground. Her body told her to run, and forgetting that she was nine months pregnant that's exactly what she did.

She was racing through the corridors, tears streaming down her face as one hand clutched the girth of her belly. It was clear already that she couldn't make it outside to say goodbye to Carl, already there were Saviours all through the corridors, they too privy to what had just happened. Doing what she could she made her way to the best vantage point over the front of the Sanctuary, the windows Sherry had shown to her on her first day there. When she looked down into the yard she was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of him, and she held her breath as she watched he and Negan walking side by side. All around them Saviours were mobilising to make the journey to Alexandria, those like Arat directing people to different vehicles.

For a few moments she stood there in silence, her body surging with adrenaline…this had been the final straw. No one would blame her for risking it all right now. She had the keys in the cup of her bra, Negan was going and only Joey was on watch…she could free Daryl right now, and they could go. They could get far away from this place, and her baby would be safe from these monsters.

The only thing that stopped her was Carl. She watched on as Negan opened the door of a truck and gave him an impatient shove towards it, waiting until he climbed up and then following him in. They were preparing to leave now, the engines starting and someone coming forward to open the gates. Carl had made it out unharmed, but he wasn't safe yet, not in the slightest. If she acted too soon it was him she would put at risk, for if the Saviours found her gone before Carl was safely at home Negan would use him to retaliate.

Before she could resign herself to her decision she found herself swarmed upon, three of Negan's wives suddenly appearing out of nowhere. It was Jade, Amber and Sherry, their concern and worried questions going largely unnoticed by her. Perhaps knowing little of exactly what happened they implored her to go and see Carson, to report to Negan that something had happened to her, but she made no effort to set the record straight, at least not yet anyway.

* * *

It was late afternoon now, darkness only a few hours away, and though Rick had left home four days ago he was returning largely triumphant. Despite initially leaving Oceanside empty handed Rick had been hopeful, he and Michonne passing the next two days scavenging for whatever they could find, claiming victory over a houseboat and lake full of the dead. Having heard no word that anything happened back home he had resisted the urge to go back there. He was getting ready for another long journey back to Oceanside, and it would be a quarter tank of precious gasoline for him to get home.

Gregory had been less than hospitable to the visiting Alexandrian's, and on Jesus' recommendation they had kept him largely out of the loop. Of the short time they had been there they hid their comings and goings from the community's leader, keeping to Jesus' trailer where Lana and Sasha had been staying. So long as they stayed out of Gregory's face and allowed him to keep primping around Barrington House he seemed content enough to keep their presence there a secret from the Saviours. He had lied to them once already, claiming that Lana and Sasha had never made it there the other week…but Rick was reluctant to trust the man to cover for them much more.

As the two days passed Lana had largely returned to bed rest for the duration, and only that morning had Carson removed the drain from the wound in her abdomen, tentatively giving her and the baby a clean bill of health. Now she was free to go where she liked, though Rick knew she would have to stay at the Hilltop long term, that his people could not be seen in her presence lest Negan know they had lied to him.

That day, the day of his thirty ninth birthday, Rick, Michonne and Lana loaded their supplies into a delivery truck and made their way to the Kingdom, stopping there to pick up Dianne and an array of luxuries and supplies being gifted to them. Ezekiel knew that they were in dire straights with Carrie being held captive, and that if they didn't impress Negan with their next tribute they faced the possibility of her remaining stuck there for the duration of her pregnancy.

With their van loaded up and Dianne joining them they ventured three hours south again, returning to Oceanside with the prayer of good news…and miraculously good news was waiting for them. Standing on the side of the road near the old sign were eighteen Oceansiders, each of them carrying a backpack of personal belongings and an array of weapons. Rick had thanked them sincerely, grateful that they were risking their lives against the wishes of Natania who still didn't want them to fight.

But just as Lana had warned him, Oceanside's support came with a condition…Arat. No matter what she had done in the past or what she did in the future, she got a free pass on everything. Arat was one of theirs, and any act against her would be considered a declaration of war against her people, Oceanside.

With little leverage Rick was forced to agree to this condition, shaking Cyndie's hand as a guarantee that Arat would be spared no matter what. Preparing for the long journey home to Alexandria they loaded the Oceansiders into the back of the truck among the tribute supplies, and into the station wagon belonging to them, and they set off for home. There they would regroup, would start putting this plan into action. They would have to accomodate the Oceansiders in one of their safe houses, they couldn't leave evidence of more people residing there in case the Saviours decided to do another walk through of their homes, but it was enough, and for the first time Rick felt hopeful. They were quite far off making a move on the Saviours, they had to get Carrie free first, but even with that he's hopeful. The Saviours would be satisfied with this week's tribute, and finally they could make headway with Carrie's safe return.

They had just made the last turn off the highway and were on the final stretch home when a figure came running out onto the road, urgently waving them down. While Jesus swore and braced himself Rick slammed on the brakes, hearing shouts of surprise from the rear of the truck. Gripping the steering wheel tightly he peered down at Francine on the road, and judging by her heavy clothing and the binoculars around her neck she had been keeping watch of the highway and had seen them coming. She ran over to them now, her face alight with relief at having stopped them in time.

"The Saviours are here," she exclaimed, looking up at him in the driver's seat. "They just turned up, and I saw Carl with them, an-"

"Carl?" he questioned in alarm, glancing at Jesus. "What happened to him?"

"I only got a glimpse as they drove past. He was in one of the trucks with Negan, sitting right next to him."

Briefly paralysed with fear Rick allowed himself a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to comprehend what Francine had just told him. He hadn't been home in days…what had happened while he was gone? Had Negan come back early for another tribute? Conscious that those in the back of the truck had heard Negan's name he had to act quickly, to reassure everyone before panic set in. Leaving the engine running he stepped down from the truck's cabin, joining Kathy who was already stepping out of the station wagon stopped behind him.

"Did I hear Negan?" she asked, sounding furious that they were facing this already. "He's here?"

"He's here," he confirmed regretfully, rounding to the back of the truck and opening the roller door. From inside he was met with faces of panic, quelled only by Michonne who was already on her feet taking charge. "Everyone has to get out," he instructed, getting straight to the point. "Take anything you brought with you. Bags, weapons, food and water. Anything that's yours has to come out."

Wasting no time at all everyone set to work, the Oceansiders a group who worked together seamlessly much like his own. In seconds they were all piling out of the truck, forming a line and tossing supplies to one another to remove all evidence they had been there. While Kathy and Beatrice leapt into their station wagon and began moving it into the woods Rick climbed into the back of the truck, helping Dianne rummage through the masses. It had been tight for space in here with a dozen people crammed among these supplies, half of which were a sweetener for Negan, and half of which were for the war efforts. It was the latter they had to sort through, things like flat screen televisions staying in place of weapons, ammunition and medical supplies which they were to keep.

"Should we maybe not give them this?" Dianne asked, gesturing into one of the plastic tubs.

Peering over at it, Rick managed a grim smile at the drawing of a hand flipping the bird, his and Michonne's reward for making it across a lake of dead and into the houseboat from which they had scavenged weapons. Taking the piece of paper he scrunched it up into a ball and tossed it out of the truck. "Not today," he conceded, pushing the tub into the far corner so they could give it to the Saviours. "But soon."

"We good here?" Michonne asked, appearing at the end of the truck.

"Get our stuff from the cabin," he instructed, wanting to make it look like they'd been living in there for days. "Two sleeping bags, some food wrappers, anything."

While he waited for her to return he stood at the edge and looked back out onto the road, glad to see the Oceansiders already retreating into the woods, leaving no trace of themselves in their wake. The car had disappeared already, and all that remained out on the road were Lana and Cyndie, the two of them waiting by Jesus' side for Dianne to join them. Catching Lana's eye he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring nod, conscious that she had not yet faced Negan since what happened that night. Regardless, she wouldn't be facing him again today.

Behind him Dianne gave a surprised yelp, scrambling back and crashing into the side of the truck, and Rick whirled around in alarm. She had covered her mouth in shock, eyes fluttering as she tried to collect herself from the fright she had received, but before he could question what it was he saw a small set of arms reaching out from inside a wooden crate in the corner.

"I'm fighting the Saviours!"

Rick swore loudly, clenching his hands into fists as he made his way over to the far corner. His eyes narrowed furiously at what he saw, that brat of a kid Rachel curled up amongst their supplies, glaring at them in defiance. She was flailing, struggling to pull herself out after having been crammed in such a tight space for three hours, but her defiant glare never wavered. Growling under his breath he reached down and took her under each arm, lifting her out of the crate and then carrying her to the edge of the truck, and all the while she was kicking and struggling like a toddler in tantrum.

"Let me go," she demanded in outrage. She pushed at his shoulders and kicked his shins, stopping only when he set her down at the edge.

"Rachel!" Cyndie exclaimed in astonishment, rushing over. "What are you doing here?"

"She stowed away in a crate," Rick answered on her behalf, furious that not one of them had noticed her.

"I'm fighting the Saviours," she announced proudly. "I want to kill them too."

"Deal with her," Rick instructed, grabbing their sleeping bags from Michonne.

"I can fight them!" Rachel protested, letting Cyndie help her down. "I'm not a little kid."

"Your Elmo backpack says otherwise."

This comment earned him the middle finger, making it three times that brat had flipped him the bird. While Rachel huffed and argued with Cyndie who was leading her over to the woods, Rick exchanged a glance of exasperation with Michonne. A kid stowing away was the last thing they needed on their plate right now, especially given someone would have to make a round trip back to Oceanside to return her.

"We got this," Michonne said reassuringly, tossing a handful of food wrappers and empty water bottles into the back.

Tentatively agreeing, Rick grabbed the bottom of the roller door and pulled it down, locking it as he looked around their vicinity. Lana and Dianne were the last of them within sight, but they were quickly disappearing into the trees, while Francine was heading in the opposite direction to resume her place on watch. Not sparing a second to regroup, he and Michonne quickly made their way back into the cabin of the truck, Michonne taking the driver's seat and hitting the gas the moment both doors were closed. As if nothing was amiss they resumed their short journey home, the gates of Alexandria appearing before their eyes barely thirty seconds later. His blood was pumping, but he didn't bother trying to calm himself too much, for it was no stretch of the imagination that he might be upset by the Saviour's unannounced arrival.

In seconds they were at the gate, Michonne slowing down as if nothing was amiss, and when the gate opened to reveal three trucks and half a dozen Saviours waiting they didn't need to feign surprise. This was more than he expected, particularly as it wasn't tribute day. With a deep breath he stepped out of the cabin and approached the intruders, Michonne bringing the truck safely inside the walls.

"Where is he?"

"Negan?" the first guy clarified, approaching him in disapproval. "He's in your house, asshole. Waiting for you."

Sparing him a brief glance Rick made his way past him, his blood set to boil by the news that Negan was in his house. But before he could even wonder if Judith was at home too he saw some other guy coming up on him, smirking at him.

"Hey," the guy chuckled as he stepped in Rick's way, putting his hand on his chest to make him stop. "Just like that?" he questioned before his tone took on a darker note. "See we've been waiting for hours just to see what you're gonna bring us. Huh?"

Tolerating the way he slapped his cheek Rick clenched his jaw, not allowing himself to utter a single word. Even when the guy put his arm around his shoulder and taunted him he simply grit his teeth and did as he was told, returning to the truck where Michonne was opening the rear doors. The Saviours kept them separated as they started uploading the supplies, no doubt doing it as slowly as possible just to fuck with him. As he waited Rick anxiously looked up the street towards the houses, noticing a few of his people lingering up by the intersection. There was a commotion beginning now, the subdued sound of discontent from his people, but the moment he took a step towards them he was stopped, forced to wait until he was dismissed.

"You said Negan's waiting for me," he reminded them, looking at the first guy in particular.

"He can wait a little longer," one of them decided, picking up one of the rifles that had been scavenged from the house boat. Admiring it he raised it and looked through the scope, appearing rather impressed. "How was your trip?"

Rick grit his teeth. "Just fine."

Clearly enjoying himself, the man lowered the gun and then sauntered over to stand by his side, smirking at him all the while. "A man and a woman all alone together," he began, gesturing his head towards Michonne. "Tell me you boned her."

Ignoring this, Rick kept his gaze straight ahead of himself, not rising to anger. He didn't care what was said or implied, he just wanted them gone.

"Come on man," he continued, using the muzzle of the rifle to nudge him. "What else is there to do, right? What happens on a run stays on-"

"Alright," Gary conceded, cutting the other guy off. He was looking around at the masses of supplies, apparently satisfied. "Run along to Negan, Rick. As for you…wait here."

Forced to leave Michonne there he turned on his heel and left, anxious to find out what Negan was doing in his house. He made his way up the street towards the intersection, and there he was met by dozens of his people lingering out there on the road, watching something playing out. At his arrival they turned around and looked at him in relief, glad that he was there, but none of them were happy. He glimpsed Maggie standing there with her arms folded, the baby monitor in her back pocket. She was making no effort to draw attention to herself, but she was there facing Glenn's murderer, staring him down.

He came to a dead stop now, infuriated by what he saw on the street outside his house. The pool table from a garage had been brought out onto the street, and his people had gathered around to watch Negan engaging in what seemed to be a friendly game of pool…with Vetor. The former was bent over the table taking his shot, but upon sinking the white ball he gave a sigh of exasperation and stood up. It was then he saw Rick's arrival, his face breaking into a happy smile.

"Rick!" he said jovially, resting his pool cue against the table as he came to meet him. "Look everybody. It's Rick."

"What the fuck is this?" he demanded angrily, looking Negan in the eye before casting his gaze back to Vetor. He too was setting aside his pool cue, leaning against the table and folding his arms. Watching from a distance he was waiting for it to play out, giving Rick a defiant stare that was all too tempting to wipe off his face.

"Rick. How 'bout a thank you," Negan said slowly, coming closer and leaning in. "I have bent over backwards to show you how reasonable I am. Let me just say that the douche doesn't fall far from the bag," he said, trailing off into a twisted laugh.

"Excuse me?"

"Your kid," he said, sounding impressed as he gestured to the porch where Carl stood. "Your kid showed up at my place, took down two of my men, and tried to negotiate for things way above his pay grade! Yet I brought him home safe and sound. But I'm not gonna lie, he's had a bad day…he saw some pretty distressing shit."

Speechless, Rick looked over his shoulder in disbelief. Carl went to the Sanctuary? He was standing alongside Olivia, looking down at him tentatively as if to say _please don't be mad_ _._ But other than the absence of the bandage he had still taken to wearing he seemed unharmed.

"Another one of your people," Negan continued, pointing to Vetor now. "Well that's going to be a difficult lesson for you to learn, that's for damn sure. You see Rick, you need to keep your enemies a little closer. You don't set them free into the world to stir up shit! Who do you think showed up on my doorstep the very day you kicked him out on his ass?"

Speechless, Rick turned his gaze back to Vetor, too livid to say a single word. He hadn't spared him a single thought since he had kicked him out weeks ago, the day he had dropped off Mina and Mitchell and delivered the news that Lana wasn't joining him. And now he was in cahoots with Negan, the very man he seemed to fear?

"Vetor…he sold this place out," Negan said heavily, clasping Rick on the shoulder with feigned sympathy. "Told me all about what you did to Timmy and the dick brigade, about your nice little armoury of weapons, about how some prick led my wife astray and knocked her up. If it weren't for him, well…we might still be looking for you."

It was the latter comment that incensed him, the idea that Vetor was responsible for their misery, for their entrapment that night. Without a second thought Rick stepped towards him, hands clenched and ready to lay fists, but Negan stopped him with a great laugh. Condescendingly patting him on the shoulder he ushered him back a few steps. "Let the man say his piece," he said eagerly.

"Lana is returning with me," Vetor began smoothly, addressing Rick. "Daryl is no longer able to support her and a baby, but I am."

At these comments Negan dramatically flinched, turning back to Rick with a pained look on his face. "He doesn't know?"

Having still been staring at Vetor, Rick took a measured breath and then found his voice. "You didn't tell him?"

Negan sighed, but there was no doubt he was enjoying every moment of this. "Well, Vetor, this is a little awkward," he said apologetically, turning back to him now. "You see the deal we had in place for you to bed my wife… _again_ …that's not gonna work out anymore."

His eyes narrowing in suspicion, Vetor unfolded his arms from across his chest and stood up. "A deal is a deal. She was to be spared."

"And she was," Negan assured him. "I knocked the ginger and the asian and left her for you…did no one mention she wasn't looking so good that night?"

There was a brief pause before Vetor stepped forward, looking around expectantly. "I want to see her. Bring her here."

"Vetor. Friend," Negan said condescendingly. "Time to catch up on recent events…your girl's been worm chow for over a week now."

"A deal is a deal," he said forcefully. He turned to Rick for a moment, waiting for him to contradict what Negan had said, and when he didn't he turned to the rest of Alexandria. "Lana!" he yelled out, looking through the crowd of Alexandrians. " _Onde está voce_ … _Venha acui_!"

Turning back to Rick now, Negan lowered his voice and spoke only to him. "I think I've made my point, let's just wrap this shit up, shall we? I'm invested in _you_. I'm not wasting all the work you and I have put in, because while I admire his willingness to raise some other prick's bastard…he's got no guts. Just before you got here, your man Vetor asked me to kill you and put _him_ in charge. So, the way I see it," he continued, reaching down to his side and lifting his knife from the holster. "You need a little help managing your people."

It sickened him, seeing the way Negan lifted the knife from the holster with such eagerness, but Rick didn't say a word. He couldn't believe what he was thinking, but Negan was right…he did need a little help managing his people. How many times had he made this mistake? It didn't matter that he had been trying to help Lana, that letting Vetor go free was what convinced her to stay in Alexandria…but he should have killed him. Just like he had done with Pete he took half measures only, and it had come at a huge cost.

He gave no protest when Negan turned away and approached Vetor, the two of them speaking quietly for a moment. There was an audible gasp from those watching as he drew his knife and went for the kill, people crying out in horror, but Rick simply watched on. This was what he should have done himself…and because he hadn't Glenn and Abraham were dead, while Carrie and Daryl were imprisoned. Vetor was the cause of all that, and so when he fell to his knees literally holding his own organs, all Rick felt was regret for not making this happen sooner. Not a moment too soon Vetor slumped over dead, several people retching at the gory sight.

"So," Negan said jovially, wiping his knife clean on the sleeve of Rick's shirt before holstering it again. He looked at him expectantly. "How about a thank you?"

Watching as blood pooled around Vetor's lifeless body and coursed down the road, Rick tried to remind himself of the bigger picture, the importance of getting Negan the hell out of there. Right now it was time to say and do whatever was necessary…and hell, he was grateful.

"Thank you."

"Anytime, friend," he replied, clasping his shoulder with a bloodied hand. "Now let's get down to brass tax here," he continued, making a point of backing away. "There's still a distinct imbalance. We need to even the score."

"What score?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"I told you what your kid did today. Two of my men, taken down by a teenager with one eye. That shit's embarrassing."

"I'm sorry," he said softly, forcing himself to sound sincere.

"Not as sorry as you're gonna be," Negan crooned, smirking at him. "Arat…kill someone."

Rick's heart leapt into his throat, and he spun around urgently. "No!" Before he could even see a gun raised a shot was fired, screams erupting from all round, and from his peripheral vision he saw someone on his front porch fall. "Carl!"

Before he could take more than a step there was a Saviour blocking his path, lunging and grabbing him by the front of his shirt. But he didn't fight him, going still the moment he saw Carl crouching down over the prone body of Olivia, seeing that he was alright. But his relief was fleeting, quickly taken over by rage and he pushed the Saviours away and turned to confront Negan.

"We had an agreement!"

"And now we're fucking even," he growled under his breath, his eyes narrowed. All former tones of lightheartedness and enjoyment were gone now, replaced with the usual malice and malevolence. "Two for two."

Seething in rage Rick took a step towards him, ready to finally throw caution to the wind and do _something_ , but perhaps it was a good thing he could barely speak. No matter how much Negan might be asking for it, he couldn't risk causing any kind of a fight. He had nineteen Oceansiders hiding in the woods, not to mention Dianne and Lana…he needed this to be over, now. Carrie and Daryl's lives were at stake…he had to endure this a little longer.

"Your shit's waiting for you at the gate," he managed to get out. "Just go."

There was a flash of disappointment in Negan's eyes, perhaps having hoped there would be resistance of some kind. Nevertheless he gestured to for his Saviours to depart. "Sure thing, Rick, but don't think any of that counts towards what you owe me for the safe return of your wife and unborn baby," he warned darkly. "And however much you scavenged, it's not good enough, because you're still in a serious, serious hole after today.

"I understand," he stated, seeing that Negan was waiting for a response.

Around them the Saviours were retreating, weaving their way through the Alexandrian's who were still rendered silent in horror, too scared to do anything. Simply waiting for it to be over Rick turned and looked at Vetor again, watching his blood go coursing down the road. In the back of his mind he knew that Lana was going to be devastated by what had happened, by both Vetor's death and his betrayal, but he couldn't find it within himself to be sympathetic. Their tribute today wasn't enough…everything was getting so much worse.

"I saw what your kids have for you in there," Negan said loudly, clasping him on the shoulder. "Happy birthday, Rick. Thirty nine, am I right?"

Not caring that he knew this, he nodded his head. _Just get the fuck out._

"Enjoy this year, because it's downhill from forty," he joked, giving his shoulder a playful shove before walking away. "I'll see you in a week."

* * *

An hour had passed since Negan and the Saviours had departed Alexandria, leaving in their wake the usual gift of misery and death. Sitting on the front step Rick was collecting himself, shellshocked from what had happened there that day…from what happened at the Sanctuary.

In the wake of the Saviour's departure Lana and the Oceansiders had entered Alexandria, forcing her to face the reality of what Vetor had done to them. By now she thought she was done with him, that he was a chapter of her life now closed, but just like the worst abusers he was still tormenting her after she left him. At first she had taken the news well, holding herself together as she learned of his death, but when Tobin told her of how Vetor had sold them out, that he was the catalyst of their misery, she had lost it.

No one stopped her as she made her way over to his body, her shoulders quaking with stifled tears as she looked down at him. For ten minutes she stood there over him, his blood soiling the bottom of her boots, torn between despair and contempt, and then finally she got what she had been waiting for. As death took its course Vetor reanimated, his face pallid grey and eyes devoid of all expression, and slowly he rose to his feet leaving behind half his organs on the ground.

"I'm sorry, Rick," she said heavily, her voice tight with emotion. "I'm sorry. For everything."

He wanted to tell her that it was okay, that she was not responsible for what Vetor had done to them, but he couldn't find the words to offer any reassurance. Instead he watched mutely as Vetor lunged while she dodged him with ease, and she waited until he lunged again before she shoved him hard. Without dexterity he lost his footing and fell, Tobin rushing forward with his knife, but he didn't get close.

"No!" Lana said forcefully, repeating herself when Aaron started forward too. "I said no! Just leave him."

Cheeks wet with tears she turned on her heel and walked away, and as if nothing had changed Vetor followed her, clumsily reaching for her as she led him up the street and then down towards the gate. Even in death he refused to let her be free of him, and she wasn't inclined to give him the dignity of being put down. Instead she had set him free, luring him outside the gates and subjecting him to an indignity that none of them wanted.

Waiting up at the intersection were the nineteen Oceansiders, patiently waiting without fuss for the upheaval to die down. They were to be taken to one of the safe houses nearby, the largest one that would accomodate them all, and from there they would await their instructions, the opportunity to start planning. On the porch beside him were a few remaining soap suds, the only evidence left of Olivia's death aside from her body that lay in the church, awaiting her funeral tomorrow morning.

"Dad?" Judith called out sweetly.

It took him a moment to respond, and he had to clear his throat before speaking. "Stay inside, Judy."

"Are you coming _now_?" she asked, proudly enunciating her words.

"One more minute."

She hadn't seen him in days, and when she had seen him she didn't take well to his earlier instructions that she stay inside, that she wait. Understandably anxious it seemed she was done waiting, for she ignored his instructions and came outside anyway. Already babbling at him she came over and made a point of trying to sit on his knee, and when he saw that she was without a coat he automatically pulled her close to keep her warm. Clearly pleased she continued chattering away, showing him her toy and appearing unconcerned that he didn't talk back. He wanted to, he wanted to properly bring her into his arms and kiss her cheeks until she laughed and pushed him away…but he couldn't.

Carl had told him confessed what he had done, had told him everything. He had been trying to help, too impatient to wait and having lost hope that something was being done to help Carrie's situation…but his efforts had only made things all the worse. It had backfired spectacularly, leaving Alexandria and Rick in particular in greater debt than when they started, and Carrie in even more dire straits. Negan had used her to punish Carl, to force Daryl to finally kneel to him in submission. They had attacked her, taking her by force and threatening to induce labour…he couldn't even imagine how terrifying that had been for her.

He felt sick to his stomach, like any moment his body was going to literally break in two. What harm had they brought to her? Carl said that they stopped when Daryl finally submitted, but had they really? What if they had followed through? What if she was in labour this very moment, completely alone without a word of comfort from someone who loved her…what if she died, just like Lori?

It wasn't until Judith stopped talking that he realised he was trembling, that he was clenching his jaw so hard it ached. With a great breath he ducked his head and wiped at his eyes, feeling them stinging with tears, and he swiftly ran his hand over Judith's hair to comfort her. She knew that something was wrong, she had known ever since the day he had come home without her mother, and she could tell he was upset again now. Sitting quietly for now she lingered there on his lap, snuggled up inside his jacket as she continued admiring her toy, a Hot Wheels car he hadn't seen before.

In his peripheral vision he could see people approaching his house, and so he cleared his throat again and looked up in anticipation. He had to be the leader his people needed right now, even if he was barely holding himself back from jumping back in the car and driving to the Sanctuary. It was Michonne, Dianne, Rosita and Eugene, but while the others lingered on the street Eugene approached him directly, looking only a little apprehensive. For a moment he stood there at the foot of the stairs, giving an awkward sort of smile before producing a Glock and two magazines.

"Thirty nine rounds delivered tickety boo as promised."

Eugene's pride in his accomplishment was obvious, but Rick struggled to share in it, though he rightly deserved it. Without a word he took the Glock and removed the magazine, counting fifteen rounds in total. Taking a few moments to admire then he set the empty gun down on his left and removed one of the bullets, batting away Judith's hand as she curiously reached out. This was yet another advantage they held over the Saviours, the ability to manufacture their own ammunition.

"We tried to make our own at the Kingdom," Dianne spoke up, breaking the silence. "We made a few hundred rounds, but never quite got the production line going. Maybe things will be different now."

"Different they will be," Eugene said proudly. "With an exponential acceleration of production and double timing it around the clock with nary a carey for workplace safety? I do believe we can a chief a substantially quixotic quota prior to the proverbial crap-ton, of that I assure you. Might require us to breach some child labour laws…cleaning shells and such."

Still studying the round Rick passed the pad of his thumb over the primer, satisfied that it was flush. He ought to be ecstatic at this news, it was an incredible achievement, especially if they could achieve scaled production, but he just couldn't find it in himself. Slipping the round back into the magazine he loaded it into the gun and then passed it back to Eugene.

"You made these rounds. You deserve to see if they work."

"I can do the honours?" Eugene questioned, sounding surprised. "But…you're the birthday boy."

"You earned it."

Realising that was the extent of the praise forthcoming Eugene took what he could get, and when he walked away to join Rosita it was with a little jig in his step. The two of them made their way across the road to where it would be safe to fire, Eugene taking his time to excessively prepare himself, waiting until he had an audience of spectators worthy of the sight. When he was ready he fumbled around for a few moments, cursing the safety switch, and then he raised the gun into the air and braced himself.

"Fire in the hole!"

Rick covered Judith's ears, feeling her give a little jolt of surprise when the round was fired. The successful firing was immediately followed by applause, but though their people were happy with the success their celebrations were appropriately muted. Worthy or not, no one was much in the mood for festivities.

"What was that?" Judith asked curiously, looking up at him and repeating her question when he didn't answer.

He heard her question, but it registered only in the back of his mind. Already his thoughts had strayed again, unable to stop thinking about Carrie. Tormenting himself he was picturing what might have happened that day, imagining her being tied down to a bed and writhing in agony. Was that what they were doing to her? Carl had told him about the room Negan had showed her, certain that she had genuinely been staying there and not in a cell…but what if was all a trick? What if they really were hurting her…how much longer was Rick going to sit here in Alexandria? How much longer was he going to let Negan dictate what happened next?

Why the hell was he still sitting there?

* * *

A/N So sorry for the delay, but I have just wrapped up a gruelling training program that ran three nights a week, plus my usual job too. I'll post another chapter in a few days to make up for it.

Next chapter…Rick, Negan and Carrie, all together! Will it be a successful negotiation, or an eventual escape?

A couple bomb shells dropped this chapter, did you enjoy? Thanks for your reviews, and please do leave some more :-)


	57. Chapter 57

During the day the sundeck offered miles of views across the surrounding areas behind the Sanctuary, and though it was nothing more than industrial warehouses and the occasional tree it was nice to have something to look at other then the walls inside. The wives had brought her to this place on her second day, showing her the most comfortable sun lounges and how to put up the umbrellas if it rained. It was generally to cold to be up there, but given the events of the day she hadn't been in the mood to spend the evening inside socialising with the wives.

As she sipped her mug of tea she felt her belly tighten, another Braxton Hicks contraction. Some of them had been painful in recent days, a precursor for what was to come, but this one didn't hurt. It just felt strange, odd that her abdomen was squeezing itself without her conscious will for it to do so. As the contraction eased she readjusted her coat and scarf, keeping herself warm before settling with her free hand on her belly. The baby seemed unbothered, their movements having not even faltered. Whenever she was still and at rest it seemed to perk up, reminding her that it was there safely inside her…that _he_ was alright.

It was on this point that she was trying not to dwell, the possibility she might be having a boy. Did she even trust that what Carson told her was true? It was just as likely that telling her to expect a boy when it was really a girl was his twisted way of setting her up. Or maybe it was more straightforward…maybe he just wanted to ruin the surprise for her, plain and simple. Nevertheless she was trying not to dwell on the baby's gender, feeling neither disappointed nor elated with the news, true or not. Her excitement was sure to come later, at the birth most likely, but right now she was more concerned with the present situation. What happened today was a disgrace, but it was over…she and her baby were fine now. But when was it going to be over? When would the end be in sight?

Her heart ached as she thought about Daryl, wishing that she had been able to see him again that day. She wanted to tell him that she was okay, that he didn't need to despair for she was getting them out of there, he just had to hang on a little longer. She could never repay him for what he had done that day, that after nine days of resistance and suffering he had submitted for her, to protect her. When she went down to the basement that evening she found herself stopped at the top of the stairs, Negan's men standing guard over the entire basement level to prevent her from coming down. All was silent down there, no torturously loud music playing, no sounds of someone being beaten or mistreated, but still she was not allowed down.

The days of her bringing Daryl food and company were over now, Negan having put his foot down in more than one way. She had tried to bargain with the guards, offering to buy things on their behalf from the marketplace, promising she knew where they could find alcohol no one would notice was missing. But they hadn't budged, hadn't even spoken a word to her other than to refuse her entry. At the smug looks they were giving her she was tempted to lash out, to open the bag of soup she had brought and shove it in their faces, but instead she gave up. The last thing she needed today was any more drama.

Instead she sought solitude from the world, making herself a mug of tea and then hiding out on the sundeck. She had missed the setting of the sun, but still it was peaceful up there, the solitude and sound of the night helping her feel at peace. Or at the very least it allowed her to feel numb, to switch off her brain and think of nothing other than her hot tea and the cool night air. She didn't think of what was going to happen next, nor of what she needed to do to survive…she barely thought at all.

Her peaceful solitude was broken by the sound of the door opening, and though she recognised the gait and silhouette of the figure joining her she was not alarmed. Ignoring him altogether she kept her gaze focused out into the blank nothingness, liking that she couldn't see what was out there. Right now the darkness meant the world was full of possibilities, the chance that there was still something good out there…daylight only told the truth.

"The ladies told me you'd be out here," Negan said conversationally, approaching her slowly.

For a moment she was silent, not wanting to interact with him even one bit, but she played along. "I came here for privacy."

"Ahhh yes. Nice spot for some privacy."

"It was," she said pointedly, looking over at him now. The camping lantern cast him in a warm light, but it did nothing to soften him. She had been naive the last few days, having stupidly started to think that he cared about her to a greater extent than she affected him…she had been so terribly wrong.

Unconcerned by her rudeness Negan approached the edge of the sundeck and leant his elbows on the railing, he too looking out into the vast nothingness. There was silence for a few minutes, while Carrie sat there seething at him, wishing he would just go away. Did he think they were going to talk? That she was going to offer forgiveness for what he had done?

"I took Carl home," he finally said, his voice low but soft. "He's safe, if that's what you're wondering. Still in possession of all limbs."

"Am I supposed to thank you?"

He huffed in what felt like amusement, and then with a long groan he stood up straight again. He stretched his arms above his head and rolled his shoulders back, looking for all intents and purposes as though he'd had a hard day at work. Collecting Lucille from where he had leant her against the railing he came closer to Carrie, and to her disbelief he sank down onto the sun lounge next to her and stretched out. Their proximity was too close for her comfort, the two of them separated only by a small side table that held the lantern and her mug of tea.

"You have successfully turned all my wives against me," he declared in amusement. "Not a single one will put out tonight."

Carrie stared at him, reaching over and taking her mug of tea as if his proximity might contaminate it. "I'm sorry?"

He chuckled, giving her a wry smile from the corner of his mouth. "You should see 'em. They're all wearing sweat pants and hoodies, not a tittie or ass in sight. Damn depressing."

"I think they call that solidarity," she commented, touched by their response to what happened to her. "The sisterhood."

"Fuck the sisterhood!"

Carrie paused, wondering how much she dared to incite him. "Sounds to me like you _can't_ fuck the sisterhood."

To her relief he merely laughed again, setting his head back into the sun lounge and looking up at the night sky. "Touche."

Another pause came to pass now, shorter this time, but Negan seemed to need it to think. He had clearly come out here for a reason, he must have something to say to her. But he was taking his time about it, while his hand was restlessly playing with Lucille. Holding her by the handle with the tip on the ground he was rotating her back and forth in his fingers, the barbed wire scraping the concrete.

"I'm sorry for what happened today," he said sincerely, looking her in the eye. "I knew what it would do to you, how scared you'd be…but it had to happen."

Carrie looked at him incredulously, unable to believe the words coming from his mouth. "That's a pretty shit apology."

He shrugged, turning his gaze back to Lucille before picking her up and settling her across his lap. "What happened today was like taking your kids to the doctor to get their shots. A little bit of pain now to prevent a whole lot of pain down the road. That's what it was today," he explained. "A vaccination for him. Daryl."

This was not news to her. When it was happening she found herself calling to him at the last second, somehow knowing he was the only one with any power to stop what was happening to her. What they did was not about her. They didn't want to induce her labour early, they didn't want to torment and terrify her, that was just the end result. It was all about Daryl, about forcing him to finally kneel and submit to Negan. Despite his reluctance to involve her in any sort of violence, perhaps Carl's unexpected arrival had tipped Negan over the edge, highlighting the urgency of getting Daryl to submit to him.

"He's gonna be alright," Negan continued, referring to Daryl. "I look after my people. I'll look after him too, you have my word."

"Like you looked after Dwight?" she countered. "And Mark?"

"D and Mark were punished," he said emphatically. "Punished for their own good. Things are square with them now."

"And Daryl?"

"He's gonna suck it up in solitary confinement for a day or so, just to really make sure he thinks about it, and then things will be square with him too. We'll move him outta that shit hole, give him his own room. Once he's settled and knows what's what, I'm going to take you home."

At this offhand remark Carrie's heart faltered, for surely she had misheard. She sat there in silence, slowly letting out a breath as she tried to comprehend those words. Negan was going to take her home? Before she could stop it she felt emotion welling up inside of her, both guttural relief and fear…she couldn't go home, not without Daryl. When tears burned at her eyes she blinked rapidly, keeping them at bay.

"You're taking me home?"

Negan nodded, looking at her in sympathy. "Shit's gone on long enough, don't you think?"

Unable to help herself she shuddered. "Yes."

"The baby turned over, Carson's willing to go with you until it's born…and Rick's just about at breaking point. It's time to cut the man some slack. I just need you a few more days."

"For Daryl?"

"For Daryl," he confirmed. "We'll let him out the day after tomorrow. Seeing you going home will seal the deal for him. We'll give him a few hours to clean up and settle in, then you two can say your goodbyes and cry it out."

"I…" she started, unsure of how to tell him that she couldn't accept those terms, that she couldn't leave Daryl behind.

"I'll drive you home myself. Carry your shit down to the car, let you ride shot gun, pick the music. How's that sound?"

She couldn't speak, her throat constricted with emotion, but it was a good thing. If she did speak she might say something stupid, might refuse his offer, because she couldn't leave here without Daryl. But she held it together, telling herself that now was not the time to be emotional, but to be savvy. She had to keep her shit together, because if she was ever going to do something to get them both out of here, the time had come.

"I'm busy tomorrow, but you'll be home the day after," Negan repeated, concerned she hadn't understood.

She nodded hastily, and this time she allowed the tears to fall from her eyes. It was a performance, but a necessary one. Negan needed to see how relieved she was, that she had accepted the terms that Daryl was to stay…he couldn't be even a little suspicious. Becoming emotional about it was all too easy, it was genuine after all, and so she allowed herself to cry.

"It's going to be okay," he assured her, trying to offer comfort. To her surprise he reached over now, patting the back of her hand before taking it in his own. "I will take care of Daryl."

His efforts to offer comfort were completely uncharacteristic, and the way he held her hand made her stomach turn in revulsion, but she continued to play along. With a shuddering breath she looked up at him, hastily wiping her cheeks.

"Thank you."

"I _am_ sorry," he repeated, sounding sincere. "I was not okay with what happened, but I allowed it to happen. That's on me. I'm sorry."

Again she said nothing, figuring that her silence spoke more than words could. It seemed to have the right effect, for Negan too fell silent, continuing to hold her hand as if he thought he was actually comforting her.

"I could use your help with something."

She gave a teary scoff, looking at him incredulously as she yanked her hand back. "The last time you asked for my help, you had Cars-"

"That won't ever happen again," he said emphatically, cutting her off. He sat up in the sun lounge and turned to face her, holding her gaze. "Trust me, Carrie. I need your help with something."

"You've got some nerve asking me for anything."

"It's for Rick."

This got her attention, and when he stood up and held his hand out to her she was both wary and interested. Unless he was bullshitting her again Negan had every intention of smoothing the waters with Alexandria by taking her home, so whatever he wanted with Rick now wouldn't be anything nefarious…right? Risking it, though she didn't understand why she had any faith in Negan whatsoever she took his hand and let him help her to her feet. He opened the door and ushered her back inside, his hand on the back of her shoulder until she made a point of shrugging it off.

"You wanna hold Lucille?" he offered, bringing the handle towards her. "She's helpful in the dark."

She narrowed her eyes at the bat, unconsciously moving further away from him as they walked side by side down the corridor. "No."

"Why's that?" he asked nonchalantly, returning Lucille to her usual place against his shoulder. "Is it because Freud would say she's an extension of my dick?"

This she ignored, annoyed by the way he so quickly reverted back to crude humour. "I'm more of a hockey player."

"Ahhh, so that's your gig," he said conversationally. "You got a team? You play in college?"

"What happened today?" she asked, changing the subject. "At Alexandria."

"Exactly what I told you. I took your boy home."

"That's all?"

He delayed his answer, slowing to a stop at the top of a staircase. Making a point of it he extended his elbow to her, offering to help her down, but she rejected the offer on principle. Instead she held the camping lantern in one hand and trailed her other against the wall, descending the dark stairs without concern.

"I met your little girl," he told her, sounding wistful. "Judith."

"What were you doing at my house?"

"Waiting for Rick to show up," he said simply, unconcerned by her disapproval. "I got to spend some time with her, Carl breathing down my neck the entire fucking time."

"Can you blame him?"

"I'll admit to being a little offended," he said, feigning distress. "But we had a nice time. I made her an afternoon snack, played games with her. She likes those duplo blocks."

Carrie skin crawled, sickened by the thought of Negan in her home, playing with Judith as if she were his own daughter. "Yes, she does."

"We got a real tall tower going there, as tall as my shoulder before it toppled. You gotta talk to her about throwing toys though. Girl damn near gave me a concussion."

 _Good girl Judy._

"Kids like her," he mused. "They'd be worth the trouble."

"So nothing happened?" she clarified, trying to keep him on track. "No one got hurt?"

"We're square now."

"What does that mean?" she asked, hastening to follow when he set off down the hallway. "Square how? Who did you kill?"

"We're square, and your kid is home" he repeated, lowering his voice as they entered the marketplace. It was almost silent in there, all but a few of the workers having retired to bed for the night. "That's all you need to concern yourself with."

Seeing that she was getting no more answers from him she dropped it for now, wondering who else she could ask about what had happened. Arat had gone with them, she had seen her getting into one of the trucks as Carl and Negan left. She would ask her what happened, presuming Arat could even look her in the eye after the shit she had helped pull that day. At least she and Laura had the decency to look ashamed of themselves…perhaps Carrie could use that shamefulness to her advantage somehow.

A shadowy figure lingered by the open door, and as Carrie drew nearer with the lantern the light fell across their face. It was Dwight, smoking a cigarette as he awaited Negan's arrival, though when he saw Carrie he hastily moved it behind his back and waved his free hand around to disperse the smell.

"He still behaving out there?" Negan asked.

Dwight nodded. "He's just waiting. No trouble."

"Good," Negan murmured, taking a deep breath as he turned to her. "Here's the lay of the land. Rick is out there right now, demanding he sees you. You're going to make him go home."

Carrie blinked at him, his words taking a moment to compute. She glanced out the door but saw only darkness. "Rick's out there?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"He is, and he's understandably upset about the shit that happened today. You're going out there to prove that you're fine and his baby is still floating around in there, and then you're sending him home."

Without thinking twice she moved for the door, understanding only that Rick was out there. Every fibre of her being told her to break into a sprint, to go charging past Negan and Dwight and any other bastard who tried to stop her, but she didn't make it more than two steps before she was stopped. Having expected this reaction Negan stepped in her way, grabbing her by the shoulders as gently as he could and holding her at bay.

"Let me see him," she said forcefully, trying to push his hands off her. "I need to-"

"You can see him from a distance," Negan replied, setting the ground rules upfront. "You're gonna tell him that you're okay, and that you're coming home in a few more days."

"I want to see him properly!" she demanded, not caring if she disturbed the workers down below who were sleeping.

"No."

"You owe me this! You fucking owe me, Negan!"

"No."

Pushing his hands off her shoulders she gave him a hard shove, her frustration rising when he didn't even stumble. "I want to see him. Now."

"And I want to get my dick sucked tonight," he retorted, he too sounding frustrated. "But we can't always get what we want. Now get your shit together and tell him to go home."

"I won't. Not unless I see him properly."

"Then all this shit was for nothing, because it will turn fucking ugly for him out there," he threatened. "If he doesn't fuck off then all of this falls apart, because I'm not gonna lie - I am sick to fucking death of your people showing up unannounced. That's the kind of rude shit I pull, not the other way around."

"I don't care, I w-"

"This is how it's going to happen," he said forcefully, his tone leaving no more room for argument. "Now can you pull your shit together to send him home, or am I going to have to handle this myself?"

Carrie faltered, not needing to ask how he would handle it himself. "Please, Negan. I'm not asking for much."

He shook his head, making a point of squaring his shoulders before lifting Lucille up against his shoulder. "What's it gonna be?"

She hesitated again, sniffling and taking a deep breath. Inside her chest her heart was pounding, every fibre of her being telling her to go running out there, to fight anyone who got into her way until she was with Rick again, until she could hold him and kiss him. But when Negan repeated his question again with a bite of impatience she erred on the side of caution, making the only choice she really had.

"Alright. I'll do it."

"What are you gonna say?"

"I'm okay, the baby's okay…go home."

"Good," he said, patting her on the shoulder before turning to the door. "Wait here."

The door creaked as he opened it and stepped through, the sound screeching through the otherwise silent marketplace. Waiting anxiously Carrie looked outside, blinking rapidly when a light suddenly came on out there. It streamed inside to where she stood, but with Dwight standing right there she didn't dare move closer to the door, and instead was forced to wait.

"Rick!" Negan jovially exclaimed, disappearing from Carrie's line of sight. "I know I told you to keep your enemies close, but I didn't mean come visit!"

Carrie crept closer to the door, her heart beating so hard it hurt. She could hear Rick out there, his words too far away to be understood, but she recognised his voice. At odds with her situation she started smiling, his mere proximity making her heart soar. He was there…he was really right there.

"Because I'm a nice guy," Negan said lightly. "And I know you must not be getting what every married man looks forward to on his birthday, I'm gonna do you a solid. Here's your woman, unharmed."

Dwight cleared his throat and gestured through the door. "Mind your step."

Feeling rather tentative now, Carrie stepped over the threshold and back into the cold night air. The exterior light made it difficult to see, and she was squinting when she saw Negan out there ushering her towards him. Following his instructions she crossed the small platform and placed her hands on the yellow railing, and then she looked down into the yard and saw him. Held at gunpoint by Arat, Rick knelt down there in the gravel waiting for her, but the moment she saw him she flinched. For one horrible moment she had visions of him being executed right then and there, that Negan had brought her out here just so he could kill him right in front of her, but nothing of the sort happened. With the exception of Arat there was no one else down there.

He was bleeding from the nose, his shirt half untucked and gravel dust on his jeans, but he was alive…and he was here for her. It had been five days since she last saw him in Alexandria, and at the sight of him now she wanted to howl in misery. She wanted nothing more than to go running down there to be with him again, for them to get in his car and drive home together, but she knew she could not. Even if Negan had a change of heart and allowed it, leaving now would mean abandoning Daryl, and it hadn't come to that yet. There was still a chance to help him, but she needed to be here and Rick needed to be far away. If she succeeded there would be a fall out, and she needed to give him plausible deniability.

"Carrie?"

Hearing his voice again made her smile, eliciting a small flicker of hope. "It's me."

He was still squinting, blinded by the light, so he took a chance. Glancing over his shoulder at Arat he slowly rose to his feet, taking a few tentative steps closer until the light was no longer in his eyes. He could see her now, his expression changing when his eyes adjusted, but unlike her he couldn't manage a smile. His attention moved to her right for a moment, and when he saw Negan by her side he visibly braced himself.

"Carl told me what happened. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. They didn't do anything, it was just pretend."

"Is the baby okay?"

"The baby's fine. It turned over yesterday," she hastened to assure him, moving closer until her belly was pressed against the railing. "The doctor took some more pictures for me," she lied, seeing that he wasn't convinced. "Everything's going really well."

He took another step forward, faltering when Arat followed him with a harsh threat. Grimacing in frustration he glanced around at his supervisor, but when she repeated her threat he took an equal step back, resuming his former place.

"No contractions?"

"None," she lied. Now was not the time to tell him about the Braxton Hicks contractions. "I've got plenty of time, Rick. I'm okay."

"What about Daryl?" he demanded, turning his gaze to Negan now. "I want to see him too. I want proof of life."

Beside her Negan murmured no, and so she answered on his behalf. "I see him every day. He's okay too."

Still Rick was not convinced. "And -"

"So how 'bout it, Rick?" Negan asked loudly, interrupting him. "You've seen her with your own two eyes. She is fine. My birthday present to you," he added. "Now turn your ass around before I give it a beating just to make a point."

Rick was not deterred, not that Carrie had expected him to leave without argument. "Let me take her home. Please," he implored, not ashamed to beg. "You don't need her anymore. You have me exactly where you want me."

"Bent over a barrel with your pants down? Yeah, I do," Negan gloated. Making a point of it he lifted Lucille and settled her against the front of his shoulder, parading her. "But this isn't about controlling you. I need her just a few days more. She's got work to do for me."

"What work?"

"How I run my house is none of your damn fucking business. But I assure you, Rick…I will bring her home in due course."

"When?"

"Two days. I'll bring her to Alexandria myself. You have my word."

"Your word doesn't mean shit to me."

"No, but it does mean shit to her," he replied, turning right around to face Carrie. "Tell him."

She took a measured breath, for making Rick go home was of great importance. "It's okay," she said gently, looking him in the eye. "I want you to go home."

He shook his head, looking for all intents as though he was barely holding back from running up there to her. "I can't…I can't leave you here." He paused, looking between she and Negan. "I'll stay too," he bargained, looking at Negan. "I'll work for you, I'll sit in a cell and wait. Whatever you want, but I can't leave here without her."

Making a sound of impatience Negan turned away, casually leaning back against the railing. "He is calm and minding his manners," he murmured to her. "Send him home before that changes."

Understanding, Carrie spoke more forcefully. "I want you to go," she said firmly. "Negan's bringing me back in two days, it's been the plan all along. Just go home."

He looked up at her incredulously, unable to believe what she was telling him. As if questioning her sanity he stared at her hard, his gaze breaking only when he turned and looked over his shoulder at Arat, the two of them speaking for a moment. Slowly he looked back again, but to her great relief she could see that his body language hadn't changed. He was standing his ground, determined that he couldn't leave here without her, and it was up to her to make him cooperate.

Despite warnings not to, Carrie did what she needed to do. "I'm going down there."

Negan growled his disapproval under his breath, lunging and trying to grab her by the arm, but in his surprise he missed her by a mile. To her relief his disapproval turned to a sigh of exasperation, and she glanced over her shoulder to see him shaking his head and leaning back against the rail, choosing not to fight this particular battle. Taking her success where possible she used the handrail to steady herself as she descended the stairs, turning her attention to Rick who watched her descent with tentative hope.

Behind him Arat looked to be on edge, dithering on her feet as she looked to Negan for clarification on what was to happen next, but Carrie spared her only a glance. Instead it was to Rick that she looked, her heart soaring with every step closer she came. Five days since she saw him felt like forever, but there he was right in front of her, turning up without warning so that he could take her home.

With hesitation he started towards her, his eyes warily glancing up at Negan, and then he could wait no longer. As she reached the yard he strode over to meet her halfway, the emotion in his eyes making it difficult to hold herself together. All of a sudden she was taken back to that night in the woods, the magnitude of what had happened to them hitting her all at once.

Finally something felt right, the chronic ache in her chest easing the moment they embraced one another. It was really him, it wasn't a dream or a cruel trick. She knew his body and form as well as her own, the brush of his beard against her skin and the shape of his jaw against hers familiar and comforting. Arms that had held her many times before suddenly felt all the more loving and tender, while the sound and feeling of him crying stirred a protective instinct stronger than she had ever felt for him before. The morning Negan had taken her away she had longed to be able to comfort him, to tell him that it was going to be okay, and that felt like her duty once again. He had been strong for her many times, and now it was her turn to be strong for him.

"What has he done to you?" he asked as he pulled away, voice so tight that he could barely get the words out. He looked at her in despair, hands trembling as he pushed her hair back, needing to touch her. "You can tell me, just tell me."

"Nothing," she said firmly, holding his gaze. It wasn't the entire truth, but she knew what tormenting images must be in his head. "Nothing like what you're thinking, not even close."

He nodded, swallowing heavily as he glanced up at Negan on the platform above, conscious that he was watching every move, that Arat could likely hear them. "You're coming home. Enough is enough."

"No."

"He's screwing with us," he implored, pleading with her to understand. "He's not going to let you go, he's just going to keep using you."

Taking a moment to collect herself she drew a slow breath, clearing her throat as she tried to think. Against all evidence that she shouldn't, she believed Negan when he said he was going to take her home in two days, but even if that was true it didn't change her position. She couldn't leave Daryl here without at least trying to help him, she couldn't subject him to that…but nor could she tell Rick what she wanted to do.

"I need you to go home, and stay home," she said, imploring him to listen. She looked him in the eye and tried to give a comforting smile, to reassure him. "Do you hear me, Rick? Go home, and stay there."

"No," he said lowly, putting his hands on her shoulders as if he wanted to shake her. "Why won't you let me help you?"

"Because you can't."

"I can," he beseeched, again glancing at Negan for split second. He lowered his voice now, moving closer. "I have something he wants. Someone. He'll trade me for them, I know he will."

"You're not trading anyone for me."

"You can be home tonight!" he argued in a whisper. "Carrie, this can be over!"

"No."

"Why are we even debating this?" he asked, turning to anger. He released her and then stepped back, his body fraught with tension. "Carrie, this can be over right now. What about our children? What about the baby?"

"The baby i-"

"Judith needs you," he said emphatically, coming back to her side and taking her hand. "You're her mother, and she needs you. She cries for you every night. She needs you to come home."

"Don't," she hissed at him, she too briefly turning to anger.

She knew he was just trying to manipulate her, to use Judith as means to make her cooperate with what he wanted, problem was it stood a chance of working. With another deep breath she looked over her shoulder at Negan, but his face was cast in shadows, concealing his expression and current state of mind. What Rick was doing right now was precisely the reason Negan hadn't wanted her to come down here, and the onus was on her to make sure that everything played out exactly as Negan wanted it to.

"You trust me, don't you?" she asked him, softening her tone. As she waited his answer she took his hand in hers again, moving closer until the girth of her belly was pressed against him.

"Trusting you doesn't matter," he replied, he too softening his tone. He placed his other hand on her belly, stroking his fingers over her shape. "I don't trust him."

"Negan is irrelevant. I need you to trust me, to have faith in me. You do, don't you?"

He hesitated, unsure of where this was going. "O-of course I do, but-"

"Then go home," she restated, squeezing his hand tightly and holding his gaze. "Go home, and _stay_ home."

Despite her efforts to gain his trust, Rick still couldn't. He bowed his head for a moment, trying to steel himself, to collect his thoughts. "I can't go. I can't leave here without you," he said softly, looks up at her. "Carrie, please. I'm not strong enough to do this anymore…it needs to be over."

"I understand," she said kindly, reaching up to touch him. She let her hand linger on the side of his jaw, relishing the sensation of his beard under her palm, the curls of his hair against her fingertips. "I'm being strong for the both of us. You need to trust me and do what I've said."

"No."

"Yes," she implored. "Go home."

"I can trade for you," he hissed, stepping closer as she tried to move back. "I know he'll trade me, I know he will."

Trying to bring more comfort she moved back into his arms, letting him embrace her one last time, she too taking the opportunity to embrace him. For a few moments she lingered there with her eyes closed, head resting against his shoulder as he implored her to listen to him, repeating again that he had someone Negan wanted, but she ignored him. She knew him well enough to trust that despite his despair and opposition he was going to put his faith in her. He would listen, she knew he would.

"I love you," she said warmly, sharing a loving but fleeting kiss with him. "I'll see you in two days."

"Carrie…"

She kissed him once more, lingering to savour the moment, to have a raw memory to which she could cling. But she ended it, bringing all debate to a stop by prying his hands from around her waist and then moving back. He tried to resist, stepping forward as if to grab her, but she put her hand up in front of herself. Looking him in the eye she refused to let her expression falter, knowing that he needed to see her strength, her conviction. He needed to be able to trust her, and she had to give him reason to.

"Go home, and stay there. Wait for me," she added reassuringly. "I'll be home in two days."

"Carrie, no," he pleaded, expression fraught as though she was betraying him.

Refusing him she continued backing away, leaving her hand raised in front of herself to discourage him from following. Another long pause came to pass, but now she knew she had gotten through to him. When Arat came forward and seized him by the sleeve of his shirt he didn't push her off. Instead he let her yank him away a few steps, his feet continuing to carry him backwards while his eyes remained on her, unable to look away. But every step he took came as a relief to her, for though it was separating them yet again his departure would give her one last chance to carry out her plan, to save Daryl.

She was ascending the stairs when Negan finally spoke again, playfully twirling Lucille around in full view of Rick. "You ever darken my doorstep again, I will not be so hospitable," he loudly threatened. "Fuck off, Prick."

Rick's mouth twisted into a snarl now, infuriated by what Negan said, but other than roughly shoving Arat off him he made no protest. He was walking slowly, dragging his feet to see Carrie for a moment longer, but he was going. As she watched him leave she felt a small slither of relief that was overshadowed by the spiralling misery she could barely hold at bay. She just watched him go, holding on and relishing every second she could see him until he and Arat disappeared behind the concrete walls that flanked the driveway.

Dwight approached her now, putting Daryl's crossbow over his shoulder. "Put your arms out at your sides."

Carrie looked at him incredulously, recoiling in disgust when she saw him preparing to reach for her. "You lay one finger on me, I will bite it off."

He stopped in surprise, blinking at her when he realised that she was serious, but he turned to Negan for the final say. Whether he trusted Rick hadn't tried to slip her anything or just didn't want to aggravate her anymore, he waved Dwight off without a word, telling him to stand down. Awkwardly clearing his throat Dwight lingered a moment longer, glancing out into the darkness before bringing the crossbow back into his hands.

"I'll back her up," he said, hastening to follow Arat and Rick. "There's Rotters around."

Awkwardly avoiding eye contact he politely slipped past her, pressing himself right up against the concrete wall to avoid brushing against her even innocently, and she clenched her jaw and waited until he was gone. As he reached the courtyard and broke into a jog it became just Carrie and Negan alone again, and she stood there in silence. She should have been trying to gauge the situation, to determine whether or not Negan was satisfied with what she had done, but all she could do was look out to where she had last seen Rick before he disappeared into the shadows. She could still feel his arms around her, the guttural relief and comfort of holding him and him holding her…now he was gone, and she was alone again.

"Thank you," Negan said gratefully, trying to usher her back inside. "Him turning up here could have gone shit shaped real quick. If wasn't feeling so generous on his birthday, th-"

"You mean, if you weren't feeling so guilty about what you did to me?"

This comment seemed to take him by surprise, for he had likely hoped she wasn't going to bring that up again. He at least had the decency to look ashamed, not that he didn't try to defend himself. "You said yourself, we didn't do anything to you."

"I know what I said," she replied lowly, walking past him and heading back inside. "And you know what you did."

To her annoyance he hastened to follow her inside, swooping down and picking up the camping lantern before she could. "I'll walk you back to your room."

All but snatching the lantern from him she turned on her heel and walked away, taking care as she went down the stairs to the ground floor marketplace. "I'd rather you didn't."

"I wasn't offering. It's not safe to be walking around here in the dark."

As everything started to get the better of her she stopped in her tracks, staring down the corridor as she held back from telling Negan to go fuck himself. She was barely holding it together, tears stinging in her eyes…she could feel herself approaching breaking point like she had once already. At this thought she corrected herself, for she had reached breaking point in this place twice now. Rick was right…she couldn't stand this any longer. She couldn't be strong forever.

"What the shit?" Negan muttered under his breath. "Don't…don't fucking cry."

She felt her cheeks flush red in embarrassment, and though her first thought was to wipe her face dry and put on a brave face, instead she let the tears fall. "Fuck you," she whispered, looking at him in disdain before setting off again.

Walking as quickly as she could manage she continued letting the tears slide down her cheeks, knowing they had a purpose. Crying now was about more than an emotional release, for she had come to learn it was easier to manipulate Negan than she expected. His earlier apology had been heartfelt and genuine on his part, and so she played to it, using her gender and vulnerability to manipulate him. While she walked as quickly as she could he followed barely a step behind, not saying a word.

When they reached the wives' quarters his earlier remarks came to light, for there was a definite rejection of his arrival from the women there. The moment she and Negan stepped inside everyone stopped talking and turned to look, their eyes narrowed in disapproval at him, making Carrie smirk on the inside. They were indeed all wearing sweatpants and hoodies, their hair pulled back into messy buns and their faces completely free of makeup. Getting up from the couch was Amber, her delicate features glowering at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. Staring him down she moved into the centre of the room, blocking him from escorting Carrie right to her bedroom.

"You can go now."

Carrie held her breath, both touched by their reaction to what Negan had done, and apprehensive as to how he would take their outright rejection. When he moved past her and approached Amber his face was completely impassive, giving nothing away when he leant down close and whispered something in her ear. But whatever it was had no effect, Amber clearing her throat and looking at him expectantly.

"No."

Giving a dramatic sigh Negan stepped away from her, looking rather put out by the exchange. He playfully looked around at the other wives too, disappointed when there seemed to be no change among any of them.

"Can I at least walk her to her room?" he asked the room at large, looking to Carrie as if she would support him. "It's the gentlemanly thing to do."

"Why? So you can make her cry again?" Amber demanded.

"Do you like making women cry?" Jade pestered, she and the others quickly joining Amber's stance of arms folded.

"Yeah, Negan?" Frankie asked. "Did it make you feel like a big strong man to hurt her?"

He narrowed his eyes at all of them, looking for all intents and purposes as though he'd like nothing other than to verbally spar with them. But like he often did he wisely chose his battles, and this was one he chose not to fight. Letting it go he turned back to Carrie, giving her an exasperated shrug of apology.

"I've left something for you," he said softly. "I'm returning it."

Ignoring what he said to her, Carrie avoided eye contact and simply waited for him to go, annoyed when he lingered a few moments longer than necessary. Giving up on receiving a response of any kind he walked away, bidding everyone goodnight, this too going ignored by all present. The moment the door was closed the tension in the room broke, each of the wives coming over to her to, demanding to know what had happened just now. They had been outraged by what happened to her earlier that day, but she hadn't known to anticipate this reaction from them, especially not their collective rejection of Negan.

"I just want to go to bed," she said softly. "I'm tired, a-"

"A good sleep," Tanya stated, everyone else nodding in agreement. "I always feel better after a good sleep."

"We'll try to keep it down out here," Sherry assured her. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"I could whip up something for you," Tanya offered eagerly. "Anything you want. Well, anything with what we have in the kitchen."

"Mac and Cheese?" Amber suggested. "I love Mac and Cheese when I'm upset."

"I could go some Mac and Cheese," Jade piped up. "It's not like we have to watch our weight anymore. We should be carb loading."

"Let's do some fries too," Tanya suggested, thinking out loud. "Hot, greasy fries. Carrie, you like salt on your fries?"

She nodded. "Yeah, thanks," she said, not wanting to appear ungrateful.

The wives divided the work amongst one another, Tanya, Frankie and Jade collecting their coat and shoes to head down to the kitchen while the others stayed back, being around to make sure Negan didn't try to come back. As three left and the others lingered Carrie politely excused herself to the bathroom, seeking solitude at the first opportunity. She come to know these women well, trusting that although they would ply her with food they would also leave her be, respecting her request that she simply go to bed.

Quickly taking care of her needs she used the toilet and then washed her face at the sink, letting the water refresh her skin and hide the evidence of her tears. Feeling marginally better she tried to go about her usual routine, brushing her teeth and then taking a little moisturiser from Bridget's toiletries. In the privacy of the bathroom she also took advantage of the Bio Oil she had taken from home, spending a few minutes rubbing it into the skin of her belly.

Inside her the baby responded to her touch like it usually did, enjoying the way she stroked and rubbed her belly, and so she lingered longer than she normally would, applying more oil. She rubbed it into the red stretch marks that itched, feeling her heart jolt in amusement every time she brushed her hands over the bugle of her naval. It was moments like this that had been her source of strength lately, the reminder that she had to keep herself together for her baby, for her son.

"You like that?" she asked softly, talking to him as she pressed her hand firmly against her belly where she could feel him. "I bet you're cosy in there. Just stay comfy in there a little longer okay?"

Though she shouldn't let herself settle on the fact that she was having a son, for she didn't quite know if Carson was telling the truth or messing with her, as she entered her bedroom her mind had turned to the topic of names. It was a pleasant escape to think about the name for her and Rick's son instead of the reality she faced, the fact that she was rejecting all opportunities for her own safe return to Alexandria.

As she closed the door and prepared to undress her eyes fell upon something on her bed, and she suddenly remembered what Negan had said. He was returning something to her, and her heart ached when she saw their family's video camera sitting on her nightstand. It took a moment to summon up her bravery and actually go over to it, for it wouldn't surprise her if this was a trick of his, if he had cruelly erased whatever contents were on the camera. Sitting on the edge of the bed she opened the small bag they kept it in and removed the camera, pleasantly surprised to find three other SD cards tucked safely into the side pocket.

Looking the camera over she tried not to think about the violation of Negan watching their precious family memories, hating the fact that he had been so intrusive, that he relished it. Putting this out of her mind she turned the video camera on and then hit play, starting where Negan appeared to have left of. The recording started zoomed close in on something, the camera struggling to focus as people in the back ground talked in contented voices, and before it zoomed out she recalled the memory. She had been laying on the couch with Judith straddling her lap, shirt lifted up so that she could feel her belly. The baby had been particularly active that day, apparently enjoying the way its older sibling playfully patted her hands all over Carrie's belly, laughing and giggling every time it moved inside her. Carl was there manning the camera, reaching out occasionally when she directed him to where the baby was moving.

Setting the video camera onto her nightstand she let it continue playing, but she went to the effort of finding the charging cable and plugging it into an outlet. Preparing for bed she listened to the sound of Judith chattering away, trying to keep up with the explanation that it wasn't Herschel in Carrie's belly, but a different baby. When she changed her clothes she hesitated before taking her bra off, first seeking out the hiding place for which she was keeping the most precious thing she owned right now. Working swiftly she removed Fat Joey's keys and the scraps of paper on which she had made notes from Laura's ledgers. Tucking them into their usual pair of socks she safely stowed them underneath the mattress of her bed, the safest place where the wives wouldn't accidentally see them, or the workers find them as they came in to dust and vacuum.

She climbed into bed and tried to get comfortable, taking even more solace than usual from the pillow she kept behind her back. It was pathetic really, but the sensation of it there really did remind her of Rick, even of Judith who still so often crept into the bed. With another pillow below her belly and between her knees she would be comfortable for an hour or so until she had to get up and pee again, but it was as good as it got these days. Warm and content she brought the camera close and watched on, her heart aching and her mind setting aside that Negan had intruded on these family moments.

If there was one thing she had to keep her going right now, it was tomorrow. Negan may have played her today, but now, she was the one playing him.

* * *

It was starting to rain now, just a few small drops landing on his face and shoulders as Rick made the long walk back to his car at gunpoint. Every step was taking him further and further from Carrie, the rain beginning to fall a little heavier the further away he went as if it was a message just for him. Everything was telling him to go back there, to get on his knees and beg Negan to let her go. Why was he walking away? Why was he letting Negan keep her there?

He didn't care that it was shameful of him, but he would have been willing to trade the Oceansiders for Carrie, he'd have done it in a heartbeat…so why hadn't he? Those people had done nothing to him, rather were risking their lives to help them fight the Saviours, and he had just about sold them out to Negan. Hell, he would have done it too had he been able to get close enough to Negan, to make the offer without Arat overhearing and potentially throwing a spanner in the works. It had been a long time, but the Oceansiders were still her people, and there was no telling how she felt about them these days.

He wanted to howl in misery, to fight someone - a Walker, a Saviour, a friend, he didn't care. After trying desperately to please Negan with the cooperation and tributes he was no longer strong enough to keep it up. He couldn't wait any more, he couldn't leave her here without doing something, a thought that had spurred on his unplanned venture here tonight. Surely the next move would be to bring war to the Sanctuary, fuck preparations, fuck the plan and the strategy. He had no faith that Negan meant he would bring Carrie home. They could attack tomorrow…surely that's the right move. He cannot wait any longer.

Seeing her tonight had been more torturous than comforting, for it was cruel to hold her in his arms only for her to leave again. She had literally taken his hands off her, holding him at bay as she returned to the Sanctuary, to Negan. It seemed she must know something he didn't, that she must trust Negan in ways he didn't understand. But it was beyond belief to him, especially after what had happened to her that day.

The Saviour escorting him back to his car, Arat, seemed unconcerned that they were alone together, that she had no back up. She had him completely under her control, and every time he tried to stop and look over his shoulder he pressed the gun into his flesh, her harsh commands telling him to keep going. She had been the one who intercepted him a few hundred yards away from the Sanctuary, holding him a gunpoint and patting him down for weapons. It had been she who shot Olivia that day, and it was her that Rick had promised immunity for. Arat was the sole reason the Oceansiders had joined them, and now she was to be spared from anything she did. But that didn't mean she would get to live…after all, this was a war. He couldn't protect her from everything…a promise of immunity didn't necessarily mean Arat was safe.

"Put your hands against the car," she said harshly, shoving him towards it. "Hurry up."

He looked at her in disgust, but he cooperated. "You've already done this," he said lowly, tolerating it as she patted him down again, rougher this time.

Through the darkness there came the sounds of Walkers, their imminent approach making her hurry a little. Satisfied she stepped away and opened the driver's side door for him, using her gun to gesture inside.

"I'm sorry about what happened today." She took a heavy breath, her voice wavering as she continued. "And what we did to Carrie…it was sick."

Removing his hands from the car he slowly turned around to face her, astonished by the sudden about-face. She was apologising?

"It was fucked up," she continued, stepping back as she continued holding him at gunpoint. "But if it wasn't me, it would have been some asshole who'd cop a feel at the same time."

"What the fuck do you want?" he demanded, stepping towards her.

Appearing behind her were the silhouettes of Walkers, while back down the driveway to a Sanctuary a figure was jogging towards them. Arat started backing away, readjusting her grip on her gun as she took a flashlight from her pocket and shone it around, scoping the area.

"Get in the car," she ordered him, taking aim and then shooting the closest Walker. "And check your back pocket."

Her aim was perfect, three Walkers falling in quick succession just as the other figure arrived on the scene, Dwight. Carrying Daryl's crossbow he had arrived to back her up, he too beginning to take down Walkers. At the sound of a thud Rick looked around, catching a glimpse of a Walker falling on its ass having walked straight into the car. Doing as instructed he slipped into the car and slammed the door shut, but even from the safety inside he did not linger any longer than necessary. Leaving Dwight and Arat to fend off the Walkers he forced himself to start the engine, and then he sped away, tyres spinning on the wet road.

He made it ten minutes before stopping, unable to wait any longer. Confident he was far enough away from the Sanctuary he slowed the car in the middle of the highway, his stomach still twisted in knots from having seen Carrie, his heart still filled with regret and self-doubt for the way he had just left her there. Trying not to dwell on that for now he steeled himself before reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, finding a small scrap of paper that hadn't been there before. For a moment he simply looked at it, realising Arat must have slipped this in there when she was patting him down the second time. He turned on the interior light and unfolded the thin paper, struggling to decipher the messy scrawl.

 _Oceanside Cabin Motor Court. Great Ocean Road, Hazelmere._

Things beginning to fall into place, he turned the paper over and read the message scrawled on the back.

 _Natania, I'm sorry about Quincy. I want to come home. Arat._

It was too late for this, for he had already recruited the Oceansiders to help them fight this war against the Saviours, but this note could mean a great deal. Arat was the Oceansider that Negan had taken hostage over a year ago, and in the aftermath of Simon's slaughter she had somehow ascended Negan's ranks. Yet here she was, secretly trying to help Alexandria.

It was one thing to be able to manufacture ammunition and build a small army to fight the Saviours, but something else entirely to have someone on the inside.

* * *

A/N I hope you loved Rick and Carrie's little reunion, and the twist at the end! I felt Dwight's story in the TV show was good, but I didn't want to rehash it out again, so while he and Sherry take a back seat Arat is stepping up to the plate as the inside woman.

Please do leave a review and let me know what you think - BIG happenings next chapter! Finally, the satisfaction we've been waiting for!


	58. Chapter 58

Friday, March 6

"Carrie?" Frankie called out, politely knocking on her bedroom door. "Are you nearly ready?"

"H-hang on," she called back, her heart leaping in her chest. "I'm not dressed yet."

It was a half truth, for her jeans were still laid out on the bed, but that was not the cause of her delay. Hastened by Frankie waiting on her Carrie opened the top drawer of her bureau and safely tucked away the fresh fruit and croissants she had swiped from breakfast, adding them to the small stockpile of food she had been keeping. Alongside the fresh food were four pudding cups, protein bars, cookies, and a half loaf of bread, food that would have to sustain she and Daryl until they could find a car that could take them home to Alexandria.

"Come on!" Jade called out next, playfully slapping her hands on the door. "We'll miss the start of the game. Don't you want to see the look on Negan's face when he sees us?"

At this Carrie grit her teeth, for while she appreciated their enthusiasm Negan's disappointment with his wives' attire wasn't exactly her priority today. Nevertheless she hustled herself, knowing that for now there was nothing else she could do to prepare. As Amber added to the chorus of those telling her to hurry she finished dressing herself and pulled on her boots, satisfied with her clothing of choice. The wives were all dressing down again and had encouraged her to do so too, but today Carrie was dressing strategically. Her jeans were less comfortable than legging or sweatpants, but would afford greater protection for her out on the road, same as with her leather boots and thick sweater. No one would question her choice in clothing, yet still she felt paranoid that someone would notice she was preparing to go back out into the dangerous world outside the Sanctuary.

She hadn't seen Daryl since the day before, since the moment he had knelt down to Negan. He was currently enduring solitary confinement until at least tomorrow morning, and this time the Saviours were serious about what that meant. Until now Carrie had never been prevented from seeing him, not even when they all knew she was bringing him food and water. She had first tried to see him yesterday afternoon, wanting to reassure him that she was okay, and then again that morning, but both times she had been stopped. Laura had been on guard when she went before breakfast, and she had physically stepped in her way…she was damn serious about it too.

Her inability to reach Daryl left her despairing, and not just because she wanted to see him. This was her only opportunity for them to get away from the Sanctuary together, and tomorrow Negan would be taking her home. Today she had free reign around the Sanctuary, no one keeping watch of her movements and whereabouts. To pull this escape off they had to go as soon as possible, to buy themselves enough hours to get far away. It had to be today.

"No way," Jade protested when she saw Carrie's choice of clothing. "You can't wear that."

Carrie stared at her, momentarily panicked as if Jade knew her secret. "Why not?"

"Your ass looks great in those jeans," she shook her head. "The point is to look like a train wreck."

When she gestured to herself and the others Carrie couldn't help but smile, loving that the wives were continuing their stand against Negan. They were all in various states of dress, most wearing sweatpants and hoodies without a dab of makeup to be seen, while Amber had gone to no more effort than putting on a bathrobe over her flannelette pyjamas. None of them had showered or shaved their legs that morning, and there was talk of forgoing that month's Brazilian waxes. There was nothing sexy or desirable about these women, and that was exactly the point.

"Negan doesn't look at me the way he looks at you," she reminded them as she pulled on her pink denim jacket. "It makes no difference how I dress."

There was a general murmur of agreement as they all started heading for the door, while Sherry fell into step beside her before adjusting the collar behind her neck. "Negan doesn't so much as look at you sideways," Sherry commented, ushering her through the door Amber was holding open. "He wouldn't dare."

"It was so good not having to blow dry my hair this morning," Bridget moaned in delight, skipping ahead down the corridor. "Hell, I didn't have to blow _anything_ this morning."

They laughed at this joke, even Carrie managing to crack a smile at something she normally wouldn't have. She hated hearing anything to do with Negan having sex with the wives, detesting the entire arrangement. It reminded her too strongly of what happened to hear before she met Rick's group, the men who had strong armed her into having sex with them. But while Negan used perks instead of violence to coax these women into his bed, it made no difference to the way Carrie felt about it. Right now their rebellion against him almost made her feel like what happened to her yesterday had actually helped his wives. If it was keeping him out of their beds, that was a win for them.

When they made it down to the marketplace she could feel the atmosphere abuzz with excitement, and it seemed the excitement was contagious to the wives. They were genuinely excited about the events of today, an occasion that had fallen on today's date like a divine blessing. Of all the days for Negan to be completely occupied and in one place, it was the day Carrie planned on escaping. The entire Sanctuary had been empty of people except for the marketplace where they had all gathered for the monthly games tournament.

The games were a day when Negan set aside Lucille and the hierarchy, allowing everyone to blow off some steam and speak their mind, to square off against him. The previous day the leaders of every outpost had ventured to the Sanctuary along with a small group who had won favour during the month prior, taking part in what was almost like a corporate retreat. They had started yesterday with the meeting that Carrie had eavesdropped on, while today was for the games tournament. Tonight would be the party, an all night bender that necessitated everyone from the outposts stay the entire weekend just to recover.

The timing could not have been any more perfect. Negan would be occupied all through the day and well into the night…she had been banking on having a few hours to get away before her absence was discovered, but if Negan and his soldiers were having a bender then they might not even notice them gone until tomorrow.

Upon their arrival in the marketplace Carrie and the other women were directed towards the stairs, a red carpet and velvet rope barriers directing them to the upper platforms. It was there they took their seats overlooking the marketplace, Carrie gazing down in astonishment. There must be hundreds of people crowded down there, the dormitory like area of bunks and curtains having been pushed to the side of the room to accomodate so many people. In the very centre was a single ping pong table around which everyone was gathered, while strategically placed nearby were tables of fresh fruit, tea and coffee. People were helping themselves, soldiers and workers alike lining up and simply taking what they desired. It was a startling contrast to the harsh points system that often saw people going hungry, and she began to realise why this seemed like such a momentous occasion.

"You want something to drink?" Frankie offered, directing her attention to a nearby table where there were abundant trays of food and pots of coffee.

"No thanks," she murmured, slowly lowering herself into one of the chairs. No point in putting extra pressure on her poor bladder.

"Pass the snack tray around," Amber said roughly, slumping down a few chairs away.

Surprised by her unusual tone of voice Carrie looked around at her, saddened to notice that Amber looked particularly glum today. It seemed her earlier laughter and amusement had abated now, for she was slumped down in her chair with her slipper clad feet resting on the railing. Her eyes were red as if she had been crying, and in her hands she clutched a Big Gulp cup from which she was continually drinking. But Carrie wasn't the only one who had noticed, for Bridgette had taken a seat on Amber's other side and reached out to take her hand, a silent show of support for her friend.

A loud cheer took Carrie's attention now, the volume of the Sanctuary's excitement taking her by surprise. Sitting forward in her seat she watched on as everyone broke into a round of applause and further cheers, someone whistling loudly as the crowd parted to let someone through. Negan had made his way into the room, Lucille resting proudly against the front of his shoulder in her usual place. He was lapping up the attention, waving one hand in the air as if he were a star and these people were his fans, which in a way she supposed was true. As he made his way towards the ping pong table he glanced up to where he knew the wives would be sitting, beaming as he pointed up and directed the applause to them. If he noticed their attire and refusal to cheer for him he gave no reaction, something that was most disappointing.

"Step right up!"

As he shouted these words everyone fell silent, allowing his voice to dominate the room with little effort. There was a few moments of silence, everyone waiting with bated breath as he set Lucille onto the table and then slowly unzipped his leather jacket. He had everyone in the palm of his hand, and the smirk on his face said that he knew it.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, step right up!" he repeated, turning in a circle as he looked around. "Who will be the first to get this show on the road?"

From the silence grew a murmur of excitement, and as the crowd began to part for someone making their way forward a cheer erupted again. Beside her the wives leapt to their feet and cheered wildly, having been silent while everyone cheered for Negan. But now they roared and stamped their feet along with everyone else, and Carrie couldn't help but grin as the first opponent came forward. It was Twenty Seven who she had glimpsed being beaten on by David and Dwight only a few days earlier, but today he came forward with confidence.

Greeting him as if they were old friends, Negan clasped the man on the shoulder and then extended his hand, the two men shaking on the game before picking up their respective paddles and going to either end. While the room fell silent and the wives resumed their seats Negan and his opponent began to warm up, passing the ball back and forth before Simon ascended the tall chair from which he would officiate as if it were a real tournament.

Glancing at her watch to gauge the time of day Carrie knew that if she and Daryl successfully escaped this place, they would have ping pong to thank.

* * *

"You couldn't get a job as a speed hump!" Negan shouted at his opponent, stumbling a little as he hit the ping pong ball over the net.

A surprisingly strong competitor, number Eighteen was holding his own against the Saviours' leader. "Says the guy who hired me!"

The many spectators roared with laughter, the trading of insults as much the entertainment as the game itself. It was a juvenile practice, but it was better than watching Negan and Simon playing giant chess where the prisoners acted as live pieces who had to punch one another out when pieces were taken from the board.

"If you picked your nose your head would cave in."

"And if you had two brains you wouldn't be smarter…" Eighteen panted. "You'd be twice as stupid."

Closing his eyes and laughing at this remark Negan missed the ball and lost a point, not that he seemed to mind. "That was a good one," he praised, looking around expectantly while the spectators scrambled to find the ball he had missed.

Hours had passed now, Carrie trying her best to find the nerve to actually get up, to follow through with her plan. She had been hoping to make her move by now, but it what had first seemed like the perfect opportunity was starting to work against her. As if he suspected what she was doing Negan was often glancing up at her, and not just in her general direction either. It was her he was watching, and it unnerved her to no end. What the hell was he playing at looking at her so much? Did he suspect what she was planning and was trying to intimidate her, or was he trying to gauge her reaction. The way he kept looking up reminded her of the way Judith did the same thing, how she would insist Carrie watch something she was doing and look up as she awaited praise. Was that what Negan was doing? Was he intimidating her, or trying to show off?

There was an enormous roar of approval from the workers, number Eighteen winning a final point to claim victory. The wives cheered too, though they were distinctly celebrating Negan's loss, and overall Carrie had to admit she was impressed. The point of these monthly games was for Negan and the workers to trade insults and blow off steam, but hardly any of them ever actually beat him. He was a superior performer when it came to most sports, and though he played to his opponents skills to make it as fair as possible he never let them win. Any success from his opponents was genuine and hard won.

"How do you like them apples?"

"I do not," Negan said heavily, admitting his defeat as he threw down his paddle. "I do not like them apples." Nevertheless he came came forward and shook Eighteen's hand, clasping him on the shoulder to congratulate him.

"Can they come out now?" someone called. "They've been waiting for a half hour now."

Looking at his watch Negan shrugged his shoulders, looking around at the spectators. "What do you say?" he asked the room at large. A chorus of general agreement followed, Negan happily giving a nod of approval. "Alright, but all you foul mouths better watch your fucking language, got it?"

"What's happening?" she asked Jade who sat beside her.

"The kids," she answered simply. "They get to play too."

Looking back down Carrie watched in dread as a group of the Sanctuary's children were brought inside, hearing their sweet voices ecstatic with excitement. She had glimpsed them only once a few days ago, the elder children helping out in the laundry as part of their daily chores, but she had never seen them in the marketplace or roaming the halls. They were kept elsewhere in the Sanctuary, somewhere she hadn't even found during her long walks of getting to know the place, and it seemed she wasn't the only one fascinated by them. As they approached the crowd parted to let them through, everyone's faces lighting up upon seeing them. Negan too seemed excited, his entire demeanour changing as they reached the ping pong table.

There were five girls of elementary school age, and eagerly following in their footsteps were three small toddlers who shrieked with excitement, while bringing up the rear was a boy no older than Kindergarten age, the only boy among the lot. He eagerly followed the older girls as they rushed to Negan, all of them excitedly greeting him as though he were the best thing out. Negan too seemed excited by all the fuss, beaming down at them before clicking his fingers at someone in the crowd.

"You remember who this is?" he asked, reaching out and taking Lucille when she was passed to him.

"Hi Lucille," the said in a perfect chorus, waving at the bat with great enthusiasm.

"Good girls," he praised, gently patting them on the head. "And boy," he added, smiling down at him in particular.

Watching him interacting with the children for the first time, Carrie wondered if this softened her opinion of him at all, if his soft spot for children made a difference to the monster she knew him to be. But as she sat there with her hands resting on her belly, touching the child inside her womb, her opinion of him hadn't changed one bit. The only thing this reinforced was her initial fears that he wanted to take her baby, particularly if it was a boy. Though many of them including Negan had assured her that wasn't going to happen, watching him favouring the only boy there wasn't at all reassuring.

"Who wants to play some ping pong?" Negan asked, throwing his hands in the air.

Instantly the kids erupted into cries of _I do, I do_ , Negan beaming down at them in approval of their excitement. Simon stepped forward now, organising the children as they dissolved into arguments over who got to play first. While the girls lined up at one end of the table with Simon, Negan and the little boy went to the other end. The ping pong ball was swapped out for a slightly larger one made of rubber, one that would be easier for the children to play with, and then they were ready.

While the first girl stood on a wooden crate with Simon behind her, his hand on hers as they held the paddle ready, Negan stood opposite them with the little boy on his hip. The game began now, and though it was only the children playing the cheers from the crowd was real, as were the beaming smiles of the children.

They played a few rounds before Simon swapped to the next girl, bringing her in to stand on the wooden crate while he helped them, but when the eldest girl took her turn she played unassisted. Clearly favouring him, Negan continued holding the little boy as he played against the girl, Abigail, happily letting her win a few rounds.

"When do we take a break?" Carrie asked, having been holding her bladder for the better part of thirty minutes.

"It's another two hours until we break for lunch," she answered, having checked her watch. "Tanya cooked hot dogs with all the trimmings, so it's always good."

"For the record," Tanya added. "I hope Negan chokes on his hot dog."

The other wives laughed, Jade interjecting. "It would serve him right to be the one choking on something penis shaped."

Carrie laughed along at the joke, but had other things on her mind. "And, you watch the whole thing?"

"Yeah, we do. It's boring," Sherry acknowledged. "But it's actually kind of nice. Feels like the old days, you know?"

"You couldn't find your d - i - c - k with a flashlight and a search party!" Simon called out to Negan.

The girl playing gasped, looking around at him in outrage. "We can spell you know," she scolded him. "We know that's a bad word."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he apologised, looking to Negan expectantly. "Well?"

Negan just huffed, serving the ball. "Your mom found it last night."

Carrie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, just like the old days," she muttered, pushing herself up in her seat. "I have to go to the bathroom. Could you make some excuses for me?"

"You're not coming back?"

She shook her head. "I just want to be alone for a while. I'll probably get a book from the library and take a walk."

The wives seemed to understand, and they nodded supportively. "We'll make excuses for you."

"Hey, are you going to the bathroom?" Amber asked, having missed the entire conversation.

On the inside Carrie grit her teeth, knowing what was about to happen. "Yes."

"Oh, thank God," Amber moaned, she too getting up. "I have to pee so bad."

An annoying habit of hers, Amber seemed to always go to the bathroom when someone else did too, as if she needed the company to be able to go. Unable to do anything but, Carrie tolerated her, confident that when the time came she would be able to shake her off. Now was the moment she needed to make her move, confident that everyone would be occupied by the games at least until they broke for lunch. She and Daryl would have two hours in which to carry out their escape, and keeping in mind everything she knew she had to do, time could get tight.

As they descended the stairs to the ground floor Carrie cringed, stopping on the stairs as she felt something icy cold go running down her back, and Amber's horrified apologies were the only explanation she needed. Gasping at how cold it was she looked behind herself to see Amber clutching her empty Big Gulp cup, having fumbled with it as she ascended the stairs behind her. It had spilled all down her lower back and onto her jeans, soaking her clothes in an instant.

"Oh my God," Amber said, ceasing her apologies. "From behind it looks like your waters broke."

Carrie looked down at herself in horror, feeling the sickly sweet beverage trickling down her legs and into the back of her boots. "Don't even say stuff like that," she moaned, grateful when she saw one of the workers rushing over, Gloria.

"Amber, what have you done," she scolded her, lunging at Carrie with a towel.

Hastily patting her down she continued scolding her daughter, while someone else rushed off to fetch a mop. There was a loud cheer from the others, everyone applauding Abigail when she earned a point against Negan. Carrie on the other hand shared none of their excitement, simply trying to keep herself together as she faced her first unexpected hurdle of the day, Amber's clumsiness. She felt scared and flustered now, having not wanted to draw any attention to herself.

"Why did you even bring your drink?" she asked in annoyance. "We're going to the bathroom!" Amber just shrugged, apologising yet again. Getting a distinct whiff of white rum Carrie frustration turned into exasperation now. "Is that rum? It's ten o'clock in the morning."

Amber just looked at her, her features becoming rather glum again. "You saying you wouldn't be day drinking if you could?"

"Honestly, Amber," Gloria continued, still trying to dry Carrie off. "What is going on with you? Why are you wearing a bathrobe? Surely Negan can't like that."

"He doesn't," she answered dryly. "That's why I'm wearing it."

"Oh honey, come on now," Gloria sighed, her exasperation making her look older and more haggard. "You have to make some effort, you have to dress up for him."

"Mark liked me however I dressed," she said quietly. "He didn't care if I wore a bathrobe all day."

At this comment Carrie's heart sank a little, pitying her. Amber might be a high maintenance Bambi, she was fucking miserable too…it was easy to forget that. "It's okay," Carrie assured her, forcing a smile. "Honestly, let's just go to the bathroom before I burst. Thanks for your help, Gloria."

"Yeah, thanks Mom," Amber said quietly, passing over the empty cup at her request.

Trying not to make a big deal of the accident Carrie made her way to the nearest bathroom, tolerating her when Amber started chattering away in the next stall. Talking back as necessary she peeled off her rum soaked jeans, feeling the stickiness all over her body. Though she had held it together this was a frustrating accident, for she had worn these jeans specifically for today. The thick denim would provide some extra protection should she be unlucky enough to encounter Walkers out there, but she would only arouse suspicion if she continued wearing them. She didn't need to draw attention to herself, particularly when it did indeed look like her waters might have broken. With a moment to herself she looked down at her belly, grateful that she'd felt nothing of the sort happening.

"One more day," she murmured, pulling her jeans back up. "Just hang on one more day."

"Huh?" Amber asked from the stall next to her. "What did you say?"

"I said that sounds like it was horrible." Having lost track of what she was saying, a sympathetic tone was a good guess.

"It was horrible," she answered lowly, her toilet flushing. "I miss him so much."

Tolerating her company a little longer Carrie nodded and listened as she and Amber washed their hands, but as they emerged into the hallway she put her foot down and made her excuses again. "I just really want some privacy for a while, that's all," she said softly, forcing a friendly smile. "I'm going to change my clothes and then take a walk."

Amber sighed, nodding in agreement. "You should take a walk," she murmured, looking at her morosely. "Take a walk far, far away from here. I'm sorry about the soda."

"It's okay, really."

Still feeling rather sympathetic to her, Carrie reached out and took her hand, bringing it to the top of her belly in hopes that the baby might move. She pressed her hand in hard, glad when excitement bloomed in Amber's eyes. On her first day there Amber had asked if she could feel the baby, and had looked particularly downtrodden when Carrie bluntly said it wasn't moving, her own way of saying _no fucking way are you touching me_. When the baby made a small movement Amber's face lit up, but still she was miserable.

"I wanted a baby before," she said softly, looking at Carrie's belly. "Mark and I were saving up more money first."

Without saying another word Amber turned on her heel and left, her shoulders bearing the distinct look of someone having a pretty terrible time, but Carrie couldn't afford to spare her even another moment of thought. The moment she was out of sight she started making her way upstairs, walking as quickly as she could manage. During her journey she encountered only one other person in the halls, their eyes widening in alarm at the sight of her wet jeans, and so she hastily assured them it was a drink, not amniotic fluid. They seemed reassured, though they gave her a wide berth as they passed one another, but it would be enough.

By the time she made it back to the wives' quarters she had firmly decided against trying to wear these jeans any longer, her thighs feeling gross and sticky as hell, her shirt clinging to her skin as she peeled it off. Conscious of the time she was losing she showered as quickly as she could, the sugary soda having dried onto her skin, but in no time at all she was on the move. Redressing in the only clean clothing she had she was panting for breath by the time it came to packing her things, but this process was to be strategic rather than practical.

Back in her room she took her white laundry bag and stuffed her soda soaked clothing inside, leaving them on top so she would have a readily prepared excuse should anyone question her. Inside was some more of her clothing fit to be laundered, but buried at the bottom were mens jeans, a warm shirt, and a pair of shoes that she knew would fit Daryl. Also packed at the very bottom were four bottles of drinking water and the food she had been stockpiling…that was all she could afford to sneak into her room without arousing suspicion.

Covering her tracks she moved on to the strategic part, taking her yellow baby bag and setting it onto the bed. She started emptying it, laying out the tiny clothes onto the bed to make it look like she was repacking everything, preparing for Negan to take her home the following day. The police onsie, some booties Carol had made her, and a white baby blanket Glenn had scavenged for her, these were the only things that made it into her laundry bag to take with her. The plush grey elephant, the other baby clothes, various toiletries she had packed for herself, it all was set out onto the bed as if ready for packing. At the last minute she took the SD cards from the video camera, but left the camera itself on her nightstand. The only other thing she deemed worthy of stuffing into the bag was the knitted Gremblygunk…it was ugly, but it had grown on her over the last few days.

Trying to act cool and collected she slung the laundry bag over her shoulder and left, not sparing the bedroom prison a final glance. She made one last stop at the living room bar, taking a three pronged ice pick from the cooler. The ladies used this frequently, and would likely notice it missing tonight, but it was the only weapon Carrie had access to…and she was going to need it. She knew it the moment she encountered Laura guarding Daryl's cell that morning, when she still wouldn't let her through. Pregnant or not, she had to do this.

As she prepared to leave she took one more moment to check the contents of her bra. The notes she had made from Laura's various ledgers were safely stored in a plastic baggie, and in the other side were Fat Joey's keys, the same place she had been carrying them for the last two days. Confident that she had everything ready she forced herself to make her move, to not delay a moment longer, but out in the halls she felt herself calming. She wasn't nervous at all. In fact, she was excited. Finally she was doing something, she was trying, and she had to do this for Daryl. How could she live with herself if she didn't even try?

She hadn't hesitated to leave, not feeling at all sentimental to the place she had lived for the last week, not even after how safe and welcome the wives had made her feel. This place was not her home, this was her prison, and today she was making her escape. In the halls she encountered not a single person, everyone too excited to watch game day. She literally had free reign of the place, a notion supported by the loud roar of cheers she heard as she passed one of the corridors that led to the marketplace. Judging by Shelly's estimate of when they were breaking for lunch she had roughly an hour and a half left, and she repeatedly told herself that it was enough time, that they could make it.

Reaching the stairs that would lead her down to the cells she paused at the top to collect herself, starting to feel a little nervous now. This was it…this was going to be the hardest part of it all, and there was no room for error. Either she would succeed or she would fail, and she tried not to think about the fact that it was Daryl she would be failing. No matter what happened today she was getting out of here, it was just a matter of when. But Daryl was never getting out of here without her help. She had to get this right.

Taking one last moment to herself she rearranged the contents of the laundry bag she carried, making sure that she had the handle of the icepick ready to grab. Confident that she was ready she slowly ascended the stairs, already hearing the rhythmic thud of Laura throwing her tennis ball against the wall. She had been doing that when Carrie came down earlier, and hearing it again was a small relief…everything was going to plan. Reaching the bottom of the stairs she turned to face her, catching the exact moment she looked up. She sat leaning against the wall, a bottle of water and snack by her side as she tossed the ball against he wall again and again.

"What do you want?" Laura asked heavily, looking as though she dreaded the answer. She could barely make eye contact with her, not after what she had done yesterday. "You know I can't let you see him, so please don't ask."

Carrie didn't say anything, though she took a few tentative steps forward. At the other end of the hall was her destination, the cell in which Daryl was confined. This was the crux of it, the most dangerous part for both of them, but for her in particular. If Laura fought back, if she hurt her…she allowed herself to start trembling in nervousness, knowing she could play it to her advantage. Sniffling loudly she looked over her shoulder, acting nervous.

"Laura," she began hesitantly, addressing her by name. "I need to talk to you."

She caught the ball and held it in her hand, looking up in concern. "What?"

"Someone did something," she whimpered, pressing her lips together as she audibly sniffled. "I need to tell you."

In an instant Laura was scrambling to her feet, taking her claim seriously. "Who was it?" she demanded, looking her in the eye as she breathed heavily. "What did they do?"

"I…" she stuttered, taking a shuddering breath as she looked down at her laundry bag. "I…c-can I show you?"

Laura nodded slowly, visibly holding her breath as she came closer and peered down at the bag. Taking her time Carrie reached inside the top and wrapped her hand around the handle of the ice pick, taking a moment to talk herself through what was coming next. She visualised it, imagined the motions she would make and the high of success she would feel…she could do it.

"Carrie, what happened?"

Without waiting a moment longer she went for it, taking her hand out of the bag and then and then lunged. Slapping one hand over Laura's mouth she drove the ice pick into the side of her neck as hard as she could, a burst of thick red blood indicating her success. Laura cried out in alarm, her eyes bulging as she staggered back and tried to clutch her neck, but Carrie didn't let her. Knocking her hands aside she stabbed her again, using the hand over her mouth to drive her back against the wall before stabbing her a third time.

Laura shrieked behind her hand, the muffled sound fading into panicked cries as she tried to push Carrie away, her eyes darting down towards her belly as if trying to decide how badly she needed to defend herself. Not wanting to risk it Carrie gave her a hard push and sent her to the ground, still clutching the ice pick as she stood over her. Laura's eyes were bulging as she flailed to grab her neck, clutching the wounds as struggled to get out more than a pathetic moan. As blood coursed over her fingers she looked up at Carrie in desperation, pleading with her for help.

Her eyes were wild with panic as she writhed on the floor, trying to clutch her neck as she started to weaken. "Please," she managed to cry, the word almost inaudible around the gurgle of blood in her throat. "Carrie, please…"

The nerve of Laura asking her for help sent a surge of rage coursing through her, and suddenly killing her wasn't about helping Daryl escape…it was simply about killing her. Still clutching the ice pick she snarled as she marched over and sank down to her knees, cruelly pushing Laura's hands aside before stabbing her again. It felt good doing it, the motion of stabbing her as hard and deep as she could spurring her on. A frenzied state came over her now, and suddenly it felt like she was watching herself doing this from afar, watching as she drove the ice pick into Laura's neck again and again, relishing every moment. She knew what she was doing, she even saw the moment that her actions became redundant, yet she kept going. This had to happen, she had to kill Laura…she had earned this moment.

With every stab she thought of each cruelty and indignity that Laura had inflicted on her, remembering the day she threatened to take the baby away, the atrocity she had participated in yesterday…yet it was all coupled with bouts of genuine compassion that made no difference. Did it make her worthy of Carrie's mercy? Did it make her deserving of her wrath? Now was not the time for Carrie to debate that, for she hadn't hesitated at all no matter what way she felt. In the end this wasn't about Laura at all, not really anywhere. She was an obstacle between Daryl's survival, and the cost didn't matter.

Finally she felt herself slowing to a stop, the ice pick slipping from her bloodied hand and preventing her from continuing. She looked down at Laura, the surge of adrenaline receding and revealing to her what she had done. Laura was unrecognisable now, both her face and neck having borne the brunt of Carrie's rage, but she felt not one moment of remorse for her brutality. This was a murder that had to happen. Just like killing Pete and the men who had raped her, it was just one of those things she had to do…she wasn't sorry.

Panting for breath, Carrie raised her head and then listened carefully, waiting for the sound of someone coming. Laura had cried out when she first attacked, but it hadn't been loud, and she was certain that she herself had not made a sound…at least not one audible to anyone upstairs. As she took a moment to collect herself she looked down, the disgusting smell of warm blood suddenly hitting her. It was pooling where she knelt, it covered her hands and her sleeves, she could taste it in her mouth, and when she started to feel nauseated she clumsily pushed herself to her feet.

She looked around in horror, realising what a mess she had made. Killing a person was never clean, but this…God, it was too much. She was trembling by the time she managed to take a few steps, her shoes loudly squelching as she walked through the pool of blood towards Daryl's cell. Still trying to catch her breath she reached into her bra and took out Fat Joey's keys, already knowing which one would fit the cell door. As she slipped it into the lock she reminded herself that she had gone too far to back out now, that one way or another this had to happen.

"Daryl?" she called out softly, speaking so that he knew it was her, not the Saviours.

Pushing the door open she looked inside at him, giving a small moan of relief when she found him. He sat against the opposite wall, as unharmed as he had been when she saw him yesterday. They hadn't beaten him after he had knelt to Negan, they had just thrown him in there for the time being. As she came in he looked up at her in astonishment, mouth gaping and eyes bulging just like Laura's had.

"What the fuck?" he breathed, slowly rising to his feet. He looked her up and down, looking at her blood soaked clothing in trepidation.

"We're getting out of here," she told him, her voice calmer than she had expected. "Both of us. Right now."

Still taken aback he hesitated before coming closer, as if concerned she were about to lunge at him. She could feel his eyes looking her up and down, scrutinising her before he stepped past and looked down the corridor. Understanding dawned on him when he saw what she had done, but there was no relief or joy in his eyes when he turned back to her.

"The hell are you doin', Blondie?"

His tone felt accusatory, like he was mad at her, and so she stood her ground when she explained. "Negan's taking me home tomorrow, but I won't leave you behind," she stated. "Don't ask me to, because I _won't_."

There was a long moment of silence, Daryl slowly turning his head and looking back down the hall, trying to comprehend everything she had done. Having gone too far already she was forcing his hand, leaving him with no choice but to go along with what she had planned, but before he gave his agreement he was reaching for her. He tentatively touched his fingers to the swell of her belly, silently asking if she was okay. They hadn't seen one another since yesterday, when she had been handcuffed to a bed screaming for him to help her…but much had happened since then.

"I'm okay."

He nodded, but still he stared at her incredulously. Without waiting another moment he came to her, roughly pulling her into a tight embrace unlike any he had ever proffered before, and Carrie clung to that moment. This was really happening…they were going to be alright, together.

"Let's go," he said hurriedly, releasing her.

She implored him to wait, tugging on his hand to make him stop. Letting go she dropped her laundry bag to the ground and started rifling through it, grateful that she had thought to stow the baby things inside her denim jacket. Tossing everything else out onto the ground she passed him the shirt and jeans she had brought, averting her eyes when he quickly changed right there in front of her. Passing him the shoes and socks next she continued pulling her other unnecessary clothing out of the bag, leaving only the baby things and their food and water.

"We have to clean this up," she said, gesturing to where Laura lay down the hall. "We need to hide her, or they'll know we're gone."

Daryl nodded in agreement, pulling on the boots as quickly as he could. "Gotta buy ourselves some time. How long till they come lookin' for yah?"

"Hours," she assured him, taking his hand and letting him help her up. "Maybe not until tonight."

"There's stuff in there," he said, gesturing to a door down the other end of the hall. "Cleaning stuff. You get it, I'll get her."

Working together seamlessly they both leapt into action, Daryl picking up Laura by the hands and dragging her into his cell, while Carrie went for the supplies closet. Taking her time to think things through she looked at what was there, first taking advantage of the enormous tank of water, the red tap indicating that it was for cleaning rather than drinking. Setting the mop bucket beneath the tap she turned it on and began filling it, using the running water to wash the blood from her face and hands. Feeling a little more like herself now she tore off her outer shirt, adding it to the abundant supply of cleaning rags. There was a great deal of blood to soak up, and they could leave none behind.

Bringing them with her she dumped the rags into the floor and then lowered herself to her knees, panting for breath from the strenuous task. While she soaked up the blood Daryl jogged back and forth, passing her dry rags and hiding the blood soaked ones with Laura's body. They worked backwards towards the cell, and by the time they got there she had soaked up as much as she could. Noting that Daryl had divested Laura of her guns, knife and radio she quickly checked that he had stabbed her in the head to prevent her from turning. Any sounds from inside the cell would alert the Saviours that there was a Walker in there, and they might open it before realising that Carrie was missing.

The mop bucket had filled with water by now, while Daryl was using a sponge to franticly wash down the walls where blood had spattered. Carrie too kept working, taking the smelly mop from the closet and beginning to clean the floor. She was exhausted already, the baby feeling particularly active in response to her elevated heart rate, but she absolutely couldn't stop. When she felt a tightening in her belly she didn't pause for a moment, not even when it became painful.

 _It's not real, it's not real, it's not real._

Repeating that mantra to herself again and again she continued mopping, and though she was leaving smears of blood behind she knew it was dark enough down there that any Saviour walking by wouldn't notice. While she finished up and dragged the bucket of water back into the closet Daryl raced past her, using his old sweatshirt to start drying the floor, and then they were almost finished. Covering all their bases Carrie bundled up the rest of the clothing she had tossed aside, laying out the rum soaked jeans and their other clothes across the doorway of the cell. Laura's blood was still spreading, and they had to stem its flow before it reached the door and crept underneath.

For a moment she knelt there in the threshold of the cell, staring at Laura's body and taking in what she had done. When Daryl helped her to her feet she took one last look at her, waiting to feel remorse for what she had done. Her face was unrecognisable, her savagery having brutalised her otherwise pretty face, but Carrie felt nothing but vindication. She had killed Laura so that she and Daryl could survive. Did it matter if a small part of her had enjoyed it?

"C'mon," Daryl murmured, thrusting her pink denim jacket at her. "Let's go."

Letting him carry their bag she slipped the jacket on, leading the way down the corridor towards the door that would take them outside. She looked back where they had come, confident that the small footprints they left in their wake would be dry soon. Just like before they encountered no one in the basement corridor, and as expected the found the exterior door wedged open with a piece of cardboard. Fat Joey was on watch, and still hadn't admitted to the misplacement of his keys. So far, so good.

She held the door and let Daryl through, taking care to put the piece of cardboard back. Unable to believe their luck that there was no one out there she turned to Daryl, watching as he rushed towards his bike and crouched down beside it. She had planned on them leaving on foot, on pushing herself to make it as far as she physically could before resting, and so the sight of Daryl withdrawing a spare key he had hidden was most welcome.

"How much gas is in it?"

He slipped the key into the ignition and turned it, checking the fuel gauge without starting the engine. "Where we goin'?"

"Home," she panted, looking around anxiously.

Daryl shook his head, he too starting to get anxious. "There gas around 'ere?"

"I…I dunno," she muttered, going back to the door. Paranoid, she looked through the window back down the long hallway, glad to see no sign that anyone had come down this way. "What about the Kingdom? Can we make it there?"

"No," he growled in frustration, looking down at the bike as he took a moment to think. "But I know where we can make it…c'mon."

Grabbing the bag he had discarded she slipped the strap over her shoulder, looking at the motorcycle and trying to gauge how she would make this work, how she was going to hang on to him with enough strength while she had her belly in the way. Never did she imagine she'd be riding a motorcycle at nine months pregnant, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She fell into step alongside him as he kicked away the stand and started pushing the bike across the courtyard, but they made it no more than three paces before they were slowing to a stop, Carrie's heart filling with dread.

Shadows of morning light were moving on the wall, her body turning cold when none other than Fat Joey appeared in front of them. Doing his job for once he was making the rounds of the Sanctuary's exterior, still undergoing his punishment for letting a Walker herd go astray earlier that week. Terrified of what getting caught meant for Daryl she rushed in front of him as he and the bike slowed to a stop, asking herself how she was going to protect him. If they were caught she would get off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist, Negan would still take her home. Daryl on the other hand…this incident might prove too much. It might be the tipping point to kill him rather than turning him into a soldier.

Fat Joey looked up at them, blinking in surprise at the sight that greeted him. "What the…" he muttered under his breath, how brow furrowing. He looked back and forth between the two of them, connecting the dots.

"Joey," she said quietly, raising her hand towards him. "Don't…don't do anything."

"Woah…" he murmured, his eyes widening as it suddenly clicked what was happening. He raised his hands in the air, taking a big step back. "Woah!"

Beside her Daryl was moving the kick stand back into place, leaving the bike and then slowly stepping back from her. She looked at him over her shoulder, worried that he was giving up already, that him backing away was his means of surrender, but a quick glance between them was all they needed. This wasn't over.

"Joey," she said, turning back to him. "Don't do anything."

Fat Joey nodded, visibly shaking as he held his hands in the air while his half eaten sandwich fell to the ground. "It's cool, I swear," he assured her, turning to Daryl. "Buddy, you can both walk right out that back gate there, and I won't say a thing to anybody."

There was the echo of metal on metal, and Carrie glanced over her shoulder as Daryl drew a thick metal bar from out of nowhere, his body crouched low as he edged closer and closer. Fat Joey too saw what he held, and in trepidation he stepped back again, appealing to her for reason.

"A-Alexandria, come on," he stammered. "We're friends, right? Listen, I'm…I'm just trying to get by. Just like you."

Carrie narrowed her eyes at him, keeping his attention on her while Daryl crept closer. She smirked when she took his lost keys out of her pocket and showed them to him. "Remember these?"

He blinked in confusion, dumfounded that she had his keys. "I…I'm letting you go," he stammered, his feelings clearly hurt. "I thought we were cool."

She shook her head, pocketing the keys as she gloated her success. "We're not cool. And my name is Carrie."

Seizing the opportunity Daryl lunged, swinging the metal bar over his head and attacking. With one clean hit Fat Joey crumpled, surprise and terror crossing his features before he hit the ground. Daryl swung the bar again and again, giving a strained cry with every blow, and though it reminded her of the night Abraham and Glenn died Carrie watched on just like she had then. It was satisfying in a way, the brutality of Joey's death providing a small slither of vindication just as Laura's had. When Daryl finally stopped and dropped the metal bar with a loud clatter Carrie came forward, automatically lunging for what was rightfully hers to take.

In her hand she held Rick's gun, his precious Colt Python. For a brief moment she revelled in satisfaction, this small connection to her family telling her she had done the right thing. Passing the Colt to Daryl they both moved forward, suddenly realising what a mistake they had made, that there was now another body to hide. They didn't speak a word as they got to work, and when they seized handfuls of Fat Joey's clothing and started to move him Daryl winced in pain, injuries of some sort bothering him. The sound of his pain spurred Carrie on, and she too helped drag the body out of sight.

"You 'lright?" Daryl panted, looking down at her in concern.

She was on her knees beside Joey, arms and legs shaky from the effort of moving his body. Nodding her head she gestured towards the white linen bag she had discarded. "There's water," she managed to say.

Needing no more instruction Daryl opened the bag and started looking through, tossing one bottle to her and sacrificing another to clean up. Taking a few sips Carrie regained her breath and then pushed herself to her feet, feeling herself swaying a little as she went in search of a tarpaulin she knew was around.

"Come on," Daryl said, tossing the empty water bottle aside. "Let's fuckin' go."

"We should cover him up."

Daryl shook his head, kicking the stand aside and beginning to push the bike again. "Nah," he grunted. "Two hour's we'll be at the Kingdom. Let's fuckin' go."

She hesitated, looking down at the blood that had been poorly cleaned up. Anyone who came out here would see it, and if they came closer they would see Fat Joey too, he was only dragged behind a couple of motorcycles. But when she looked up and saw Daryl pushing the bike and looking at her expectantly she hedged her bets. She could stay and continue cleaning up, heightening the risk of being caught again, or they could get the hell away from there right now.

Slinging the bag over her shoulder she hastened to catch up. The back gate was waiting for them just as she knew it would be, and she fumbled with Fat Joey's keys and rushed to slip them into the padlock. Her hands were trembling so hard she could barely get the key in, and every rattle of the keys felt ten times louder than it actually was, her anxiety only growing. Fearful of being caught she was constantly looking up, and was just about to ask Daryl to take over when she felt the mechanism open. For a moment she simply stared at the padlock, looking at it in disbelief when she removed it from the latch and pushed the gate open.

Feeling like she was in a dream she stepped through the gate and into the world outside the Sanctuary. Holding it open for Daryl to bring the bike through she looked up at the imposing building that had been their prison, the place that for many people was a home. Negan was inside playing sports with his people, he and his soldiers passing the day without a care in the world, while their greatest leverage over Rick and Alexandria was walking free out the back gate.

"C'mon," Daryl said loudly, setting off at a slow jog while he continued pushing the bike.

Taking one last look at the Sanctuary she secured the padlock back in place and then followed, feeling numb to what had just transpired. There was no cause yet to celebrate, for though they had made it out they were still not safe. Their escape could be discovered at any minute, and should that happen before they had sufficient head start they faced the likelihood of being recaptured. All around them the streets were filled with Walkers, their best defence being the ability to move faster than them, but that quickly became tiring.

It didn't take long for them to be out of sight of the Sanctuary, the smokestacks just peeping out above the surrounding buildings. Running with one hand clutched around the girth of her belly she kept up admirably, and she drew Laura's knife only when she had to. While Daryl tirelessly pushed the motorbike Carrie lunged at the Walkers that came towards him, taking out two in quick succession. They stood no chance against her, their decayed flesh no match for her speed, but it was frightening nonetheless. She hadn't been this close to Walkers for months now, and it would only take one scratch of teeth to infect her and the baby. As they fled she was constantly looking over her shoulder, certain the Saviours had discovered them gone, that they were in pursuit this very moment.

They made it maybe a mile before Daryl slowed to a stop, gripping the handlebars as he hunched over and panted for breath. "What's wrong?" she breathed, she too trying to catch her breath. She glanced over her shoulder again, fearful that their escape was too good to be true.

He didn't answer, but when he kicked the stand out and allowed the motorcycle to stand on its own she could see him wincing in discomfort, his elbow tucked close against his lower stomach where Dwight had stabbed him two weeks ago. Nevertheless he didn't stop for a moment, seizing the white linen bag from over her shoulder and then stuffing it into one of the satchels by the rear tyre. Taking her knife too he slipped it and their other weapons into the satchel on the other side before looking her up and down, likely dreading the thought of making her ride a motorcycle.

"Yah feet go here, and here," he growled, lowering the additional footrests and showing them to her. "No where else, 'right? And keep 'em there."

As he spoke he took his seat and then twisted around to help her, holding her steady as she swung her leg over and tried to situate herself. She clutched at the back of his shirt, her whole body trembling as she brought her boots onto the footrests. It had been foolish of her to think that they could get far away on foot, but despite knowing she had to do this every fibre of her being was screaming at her to get off, that they were going to crash, that she'd kill her unborn baby. In the end it was her sheer desperation and trust in Daryl that made her stay, a trust that only grew when he seized her hands and wrenched them around his waist. Her belly was pressed right against his lower back, reminding him of what was at stake for them.

"Lean into the curves, don't fight it," he lectured, trying to prepare her for everything he could. His hand was gripping the key in the ignition, poised to start the engine. "I won't let yah fall, just hang on tight," he continued, his free hand grabbing her knee and pushing it against his hip.

Hanging on to him with all her strength Carrie nodded, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against the back of his head. "I trust you," she managed to say, barely holding back from screaming at him to go, to get them out of there.

When the engine roared to life it felt impossibly loud, but there was barely a moment to consider the possibility that they could be heard from the Sanctuary. The bike bounced and shifted as Daryl kicked away the stand and prepared to take off, giving her a moment to adjust her balance and then shouting his instructions a second time.

They took off slowly at first, Daryl going gently for a few blocks until he was confident she was stable, and then the engine roared when he picked up speed. The wind whipped at her face and hands, chilling her skin and making her eyes water, and she closed them when things became disorienting. She felt the bike weaving in and around obstacles, and though she did her best to trust and lean with him she was afraid. It wasn't until ten minutes later that she felt his body relax, uncomfortable tension fading as they suddenly accelerated again.

Risking it, she opened her eyes and tried to see, her heart soaring when she recognised the road they were on. It was one she and the run crew had taken many times when they were heading north, the highway clear of abandoned cars and debris, largely free of Walkers thanks to the deep ditches on either side.

The engine is roaring even louder now, but now it didn't feel intimidating…it felt like freedom.

* * *

A/N Hey readers, I hope you enjoyed their long awaited escape! Be sure to let me know what you think, and how you think Negan will take it!

Next chapter…Negan confronts Rick about the escape!


	59. Chapter 59

Saturday, March 7

Feeling physically ill with nerves, Rick stood alone on the south watch above the gate, waiting.

How he got any sleep last night, he didn't know. He had spent hours laying awake in Judith's bed, taking comfort in the way she snuggled up to him, so pleased to have him sharing her bed even it was a little cramped. All night he had stared up at the ceiling, questioning every decision he had made in recent time…it took everything he had not to do something rash, to not get in a car and drive straight back to the city like he had the other night. How many times during the night had he decided to throw caution to the wind, getting halfway out of bed before slowly seeing reason?

Just as he had spent hours laying awake in bed last night, he spent hours that morning standing on watch. In spite of everything he had just come to learn, the only action he could take was inaction. Waiting was agonising, his pain made all the more torturous by his own mind that still went back and forth between sensible strategy and impulsive thoughts. He didn't know how much longer he could take this, and every time that thought occurred to him it all got worse, because even when this wait was over he had to wait yet again…the one thing he needed was so close, yet still so far.

It was most contradictory, but Rick just about cried out in relief when Aaron told him that the Saviours were approaching, that they had just passed his watch post out on the highway. It felt like he had been waiting for this moment for months now, and his heart raced as he stared down the long road that would lead them to Alexandria. He clutched his radio in hand as he waited, watching a sole Walker meandering down the road, veering off to the side just as the sound of engines began to grow in the distance. The sound grew ominously, teasing him until finally he saw the first car appear in the distance…finally.

"They're here," he said over the radio, conscious that the Saviours would be able to hear them. "Is everyone inside?"

"Copy that," Sasha replied, doing a final sweep of the community to make sure everyone was safely in doors. "Everyone's inside. The streets are clear."

Returning the radio to his duty belt he held his breath as the convoy of cars approached, his attention focused on the first of the lot, a dark coloured sedan. Raising his binoculars he studied the Dodge Charger as it approached, his shaky glimpse telling him Negan was at the wheel. His heart faltered as he counted the other cars, noting they had brought twelve other cars today, but no trucks. That was more than he had expected, though he supposed given the circumstances a huge show of force shouldn't be surprising.

When he gave the signal Francine opened the gate to let them in, but as he began descending from the watch platform the engines of the cars began to roar, and before he could do a thing about it the Dodge Charger came racing inside. Tyres squealing and engine roaring Negan burst into Alexandria, the others cars following in similar fashion, rushing in one by one before anyone could stop them. Conscious that he had lost control of this already Rick seethed in anger as the Saviours quickly spread out around the community, all twelve vehicles entering.

Leaving Francine to shut the gate he set off on foot, and though he had been prepared for an unnecessary show of force, this was taking things too far. While Negan had turned left at the intersection the other cars stopped outside the others houses, then in one great sweep the Saviours got out of their cars and spread out, bursting into homes and taking people by surprise. There was a scream from somewhere, echoed by the sound of a window breaking, and it took everything he had for Rick to remain calm.

"Carrie?" he called out, looking around for her. "Carrie!" When he reached the intersection he went to the nearest Saviour, making the bold move of grabbing him by the sleeve. "Where is she?"

Scoffing at him in derision, the man's lip curled in amusement. With the company of another Saviour the man made his way towards Jessie's vacant house, firing a round into the air before they crossed the porch and burst inside with loud shouts. There would be no one inside there to harass and terrorise, but that seemed to make no difference to them.

"Rick! Friend!" Simon called out to him, waiting on his front porch. "Come join us, won't you?"

Hastening to do exactly that he made his way down the pavement towards home, looking into the now empty cars that had been parked outside. "Is she in there?" he demanded, stopping in his tracks when Simon intercepted him.

"We've got some talking to do, Rick," he said lowly, the inflexion of his voice sounding menacing.

"Then let me inside."

Simon shook his head, dragging it out. "First, I'm going to need you a little calmer. Best behaviour, and such. How's about you count down from ten?"

Tolerating the delay, but refusing to actually count down, Rick and glanced around. Further up the street his people were being booted from their houses, everyone congregating on the street while the Saviours wrecked havoc on their homes. Next door Maggie and Herschel were being escorted out with a little more kindness and dignity, one of the Saviours going to the effort of carrying a diaper bag and blanket for them, but just like the others they were sent to stand in the middle of the street. Herschel lay sleeping against her chest, and as she stood there and tucked the blanket around him Maggie looked towards him. She was afraid, as was to be expected, but she knew what today was…everyone was awaiting Carrie's safe return.

"Much better," Simon praised, coming down the front steps and putting his arm around Rick's shoulder. "Come on in, won't you?"

Not rising to the bait, Rick resisted the urge to shrug Simon's arm off him, putting up with it until they stepped inside and he was released. It came as no surprise that there were Saviours in his house, nor that he could hear Carl arguing with one of them upstairs, Judith crying as she was prematurely awoken from her nap. Sitting at the head of their family table was Negan, who had made himself comfortable during the short wait for Rick's arrival.

"Rick!" Negan greeted him jovially, opening his arms wide as if to embrace him. "How good of you to join me on this beautiful morning."

No doubt he had chosen to sit at the head of the table as a sign of dominance, likely thinking that was Rick's designated place at the head of the family. Drinking coffee from Rick's mug he had made himself quite comfortable, seated with his chair tipped back and his feet on the table, Lucille laid out within arm's reach at all time. It was a clear sign of disrespect, an effort to throw his weight around and remind Rick of who was in charge, not that he needed reminding right now.

"Why is this pig wearing a Sheriff's hat?" Negan politely enquired, scrutinising the mug he was drinking from.

Seeing that he expected to make some small talk, Rick answered. "Because it's a cop."

"I've never understood calling cops pigs," Simon piped up, tilting his head in confusion. "It doesn't make sense. Pigs are great."

"It's a God damn insult to pigs," Negan agreed. "These cops were running around giving pigs a bad name."

Rick looked around expectantly, peering into the empty living room and then down the hall. "Where's Carrie?"

"Huh?" Negan questioned.

"Where's Carrie?" he repeated, looking at him impatiently. "You said you were bringing her back today. Where is she?"

There was an awkward pause now, Negan and Simon looking at one another. Moments later Negan seemed to give a heavy sigh, taking a sip of his coffee and then setting it down.

"You see Rick, normally I'd just send Simon here to do my bidding," he said pleasantly, taking his feet down from the table and getting up. Keeping it close always he picked up Lucille from the table, holding her by his side. "He speaks for me well enough, he knows how to get a message across. But this? Oh, this…this warranted a visit from the top guy."

"Where is she?" he said lowly, his hands clenching.

Negan pulled a bewildered face, shrugging his shoulders. "You tell me."

Looking around expectantly, Rick's face began to fall. He hesitated for a moment, looking at each of the Saviours before turning back to Negan. "I don't want to play games. Not about her," he said, keeping his voice calm and even. "What's this going to cost me? Just say it."

"Just say it," Negan repeated, lowering his voice. He came forward a step, holding Rick's gaze in a tense stare. "Alright, I'll fucking say it. Your cunt of a wife excused herself from our festivities. Now I let her strut around my place likes she owns it, I wanted her to feel at home," he implored. "But that generosity has come back to bite me on the dick. No one gave a shit where she was until she wasn't at breakfast this morning, and then we got to looking for her."

"You sai-"

"You know what we found?" Negan interrupted him, advancing on him again. "We found a dead Saviour in Daryl's cell, a dead Saviour outside, and a missing motorbike. They're in the wind, Rick," he growled darkly, tightening his grip on Lucille. "They haven't been seen since yesterday. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

He remained silent for a long time, trying to collect himself, to choose his words carefully. "You said you were bringing her back."

"I was. Which is why her betrayal hurts me so."

"You said this would be over if I went home, so I did," he said loudly, his voice straining. "I've done everything you asked."

Negan blinked at him in astonishment. "Are you putting this on me?"

"Like I believe this horse shit," he cursed, barely able to get the words out. "She's nine months pregnant!" he shouted, taking a step forward. "You expect me to believe she and Daryl are out roaming the streets on his bike? What have you done to her?"

Negan growled angrily, clenching his fists as if it was taking everything he had to not start swinging fists, and he held Rick's glare as he took a decisive step back. He clicked his fingers at the Saviours, sending them forward to do his bidding.

"Did you hurt her?" he accused, Simon and the others lunging at him. "Did you do something to her? To my baby?"

He fought against the others for a moment, trying to wrench his arms out of their grip, but he didn't stand a chance. As they backed him up against one of the decorative columns and pulled his arms back he focused his attention on Negan alone. Just the same as him Negan seemed furious with the entire situation, his mouth twisted into an annoyed scowl. He was setting Lucille aside now, leaning her up against the side of the couch while he rolled his shoulders back a few times.

"I knew we'd have a reaction of some kind," he said condescendingly, drawing his hand into a fist. "But I'm going to need you to shut the fuck up."

While the Saviours held his arm straight behind his back Negan advanced on him, one hand grabbing him by the throat before driving the other into his stomach. Rick visibly lurched, a strangled groan escaping his lips as bile rose in his throat, but he managed to stay on his feet. With a great shudder he drew a cautious breath, feeling his abdominal muscles relaxing as his stomach settled. But Negan wasn't finished, and though he had released his neck he was studying him in dissatisfaction.

"What have y-"

"Not the right spot," Negan said in disappointment, advancing on him again.

Holding him by the throat he punched him a second time, and it was then Rick crumbled. His legs gave out and sent him sinking to his knees, agony radiating around his abdomen and ribs as he strained to draw breath. It didn't matter that he knew what was happening, that the terror would be fleeting and in moments he would breathe again, but he couldn't stop the overwhelming need to fight. He couldn't breathe in, his diaphragm feeling paralysed as he tried to draw breath. With his arms pulled back and up behind him his shoulders strained in discomfort, eyes watering as he desperately tried to breathe.

Still holding him by the neck Negan crouched down in front of him, crudely slapping him across the cheek. "That cunt pulled a fast one on me," he growled angrily, forcing Rick to look at him. "What happened to my people…that wasn't Daryl. Stabbing someone in the face? That's the kind of savagery you only see from women."

Finally his diaphragm relaxed, allowing him to draw a pained breath. For a moment he simply gasped for breath, eyes darting towards the stairs to be sure that Carl wasn't there, but surely he was listening.

"I don't believe you," he spat, his words trailing off into a pained whine when the Saviours pulled his arms tighter, his shoulders aching as he was forced back against the column. His right shoulder blade was in agony, still bruised and sore from where the kevlar vest had caught a bullet.

"Oh, believe me, Rick! I've got two dead Saviours and two missing prisoners." Gripping the underside of his jaw Negan roughly shoved his head back against the column, pressing it there hard. "Are they here?"

"No."

"Then you know what that means," he continued, lowering his voice and inching closer. Their faces were barely inches apart now, Negan commanding his complete and utter attention. "They're out there right now, and I promised I'd take care of her. I would consider it neglectful if I allowed her to give birth in a ditch with that redneck using his goddamn teeth to cut the cord. So believe me what I tell you my men will scour every fucking inch of this state to find her. I told you…I'm a man of my fucking word!"

"Then you'd better find her. We had an agreement…we were getting somewhere."

"Yes, we were," he agreed. "I will find her, Rick, and I will bring her home to you just as promised, but Daryl? Oh, Daryl will bear the consequences. I will be cutting pieces off him and feeding them to you, just like I said I would. Last chance. Are they here?"

Rick looked him in the eye, speaking the absolute truth. "No."

"Are they here?"

"No."

Negan tightened his grip around his jaw and shouted in his face. "Are - they - here!"

"No!"

"Then you won't mind if we have a little look around," he said, releasing his jaw and standing up. "I mean, that we _had_ a little look around." He gestured out the windows before turning back to the dining table, rifling through the pockets of Rick's duty belt before tossing his handcuffs to Simon. "We're searching every nook, cranny and asshole for them."

"Go right ahead," Rick invited, not caring when they cuffed his hands together behind the square column. "They're not here."

At Negan's instruction the Saviours began clearing out of the house, leaving just the two of them behind. Incensed by what was happening he turned and watched the Saviours going, catching a brief glimpse out through the front door. There were footsteps from upstairs, the Saviours who had been searching up their also departing, satisfied that no one was hiding up there. As the door was slammed shut by the last Saviour he sent a silent prayer that everyone was alright, that none of them had tried fighting for any reason.

"Stay down."

Having begun to stand again Rick paused, gritting his teeth as he looked over at Negan. He was resuming his seat at the head of the dining table again, looking him in the eye as he settled back with his feet up on the table again. Vividly recalling some of Negan's previous threats he quickly averted his eyes and then did as instructed, lowering himself back down to sit on the floor. If Negan wanted to have him under his complete control then Rick would allow it… he had to.

"Good," Negan softly praised, pleased by his submission. "I think you and I get along a whole lot better when you're doing as you're told."

Ignoring this comment Rick fixed his gaze on Lucille, the baseball bat left inconspicuously leaning against the side of the couch. He stared at it, seething in anger, but he struggled to keep his face impassive. Having been watching him with great interest Negan seemed to take offence to the way in which he stared at Lucille, and so it was with great enjoyment that he loudly called out to Carl, summoning him.

"Come on Carl, you little shit stain," he cheerfully called out, banging his fist on the table. "Come on down here."

Negan had to call out again before Carl responded, telling him to wait a moment before things fell silent again. But Rick held his breath, heart sinking when a few moments later he heard Judith fussing and whining. She had been prematurely awoken from her morning nap, and so would be cranky and needy, not at all content with being left upstairs alone. As Carl appeared on the middle landing of the stairs Judith let out a loud cry of frustration, rattling the plastic safety gate at the top of the stairs, and at the sound of her cries Negan looked up in delight.

"Is that my friend, Judy?" he loudly asked, smirking at Rick as he got to his feet and crossed the living room. "Bring her down too."

"You're not seeing her," Carl said lowly, standing his ground when he saw Negan. "Leave her alone."

With a great flourish Negan turned around on the spot and looked at Rick, tilting this head. "You don't mind, do you Rick? Don't tell me you're one of those fathers who thinks children shouldn't be brought out for company."

Faced with no other choice Rick looked at Carl, giving permission with a small nod of the head. For a moment Carl stood there in outrage, refusing to move until he received nothing more than another nod of the head, and then he reluctantly did as Negan instructed. When he went back up her cries slowly tapered off, but she was still whimpering unhappily when they came downstairs.

"What's going on?" Carl demanded, bouncing his sister as they stepped over the other safety gate.

"What's going on, is that you just made my God damn day," Negan declared, looking at Judith in delight.

It sickened him when he saw his daughter's face lighting up, that she recognised Negan. Though she rubbed her eyes she seemed pleased to see him there, perhaps remembering that he had played with her the other day, that he had given her his undivided attention while he waited for Rick to show up.

"Don't," he warned, disgusted when Negan reached to take Judith into his arms.

Stopping only to look at him with that smug smile Negan reached for Judith anyway, leaving Carl no choice but to pass her over. She went to him without protest, squinting up at him and tolerating the way he cooed at her, but a moment later she pulled a face of discontent. Looking around for Carl she mumbled something incomprehensible to most, looking at him expectantly.

"What is it?" Negan asked sweetly, bouncing her a little. "What did she say?"

"She wants lunch," Carl said shortly, moving past him into the kitchen.

While Carl set about preparing food for his sister Negan followed him, striking up conversation as though it weren't unusual. "I see you've ditched that grimy ass bandage. Good," he commented, praising him. "Don't get me wrong, those scars are gross as hell, but you look badass. No one will fuck with you." He laughed under his breath now, looking at Judith and apologising for his language.

"What are you doing here?" Carl asked quietly, cutting a slice of bread.

While Negan launched into a lengthy explanation as to what had brought him there Rick was forced to sit and wait, incensed that he had to tolerate this mongrel interacting with his children. When he first learned that he had spent the afternoon in his home playing with Judith he felt sick to his stomach, but at the time he had never fathomed it would happen again. Yet there Negan was, setting Judith into her high chair and talking at length with Carl .

"Who did she kill?" Carl asked, now fully up to speed. When he set Judith's sandwich onto her highchair tray he made a point of staying there, non-verbally telling Negan to back off.

"Laura," he answered. Looking Carl in the eye as they spoke he backed up and seated himself on top of the dining table, ignoring Rick all together. "A good woman who looked out for her, who let things slide that I wouldn't have. Carrie repaid that by stabbing her eyes out."

At this answer Rick breathed a small sigh of relief, grateful that it hadn't been the person he feared, Arat.

"Who else?"

"Why do you care?" Negan challenged.

"I want to know who to celebrate."

Negan winced as though wounded, but he was laughing. "Kid, you are cold," he said in awe, though it wasn't an insult. "The other one was Fat Joey, and that…well that hurt. Things will not be the same now that he's dead. Without Fat Joey, Skinny Joey is just…" he trailed off for a moment, making a sound of irritation. "Joey."

Carl was without sympathy. "Tragic."

At this Rick held his breath, silently imploring Carl not to say anything else that might incite Negan, but to his disbelief Negan started to laugh. It was an obnoxious laugh, so out of place in the tense setting that Judith paused with her sandwich mid-air, gaping at him in bemusement.

"Damn, kid!" Negan laughed, slapping his knee. "You're just too much! God, how I would love to take you back home and turn you inside out."

Before Carl could say anything else incendiary the front door opened, and when Rick looked around he made an effort to hide his relief. It was Arat, coming inside without invitation and dripping foul smelling water all over the floor, but he was glad to see her. At the realisation she had been in the sewers Rick's heart sank into the pit of his stomach, fearful as to who else had gone down there looking…but if that was the case then all hell would have broken loose by now.

Not even sparing Rick a glance, Arat addressed Negan. "All clear out there."

"Everywhere?"

"Everywhere," she emphasised. "Whole place is upside down. We took each house by surprise, just as we planned."

"And, uhhh…" Negan trailed off, clearing his throat as he placed his hand over his mouth and nose. "I take it someone checked the sewers."

Arat sighed, looking down at herself. "Yup."

"Drew the short straw?"

"No. Your so called _men_ pussied out."

Negan grinned, clapping his hands together. "I've always said you women are built of tougher shit than us! I'll make sure you're appropriately rewarded."

"Thanks," she muttered, her boots squelching as she turned and reached for the door, but she stopped when Negan called her name. "Yeah?"

"I know I just heaped a whole lot of _fudging_ praise on you," he said, getting down from the table and approaching her, though he seemed to think better of it and stopped. "But I'd have to be dumb as all hell to let you into one of my cars. The stink of shit? Well that gets into everything. Rick…how can you accomodate?"

"There's a garden hose near the pig sty," Carl said before he could answer. "That should work."

Again Negan seemed to enjoy Carl's retorts, grinning and clapping his hands together in amusement. "Arat…take your shitty smellin' ass upstairs. I'm sure Rick here won't mind you using his shower and borrowing some clothes. Do you mind, Rick?"

Though he glowered at the opposite wall, on the inside he was smiling. "There're clean towels in the laundry."

"That's the way," Negan praised, dramatically waving his hand towards the hallway and ushering Arat to go.

Her boots squelched loudly as she walked, leaving putrid smelling water in her wake as she made her way through their house. Stopping in the laundry first she took some clean towels from the linen cupboard and then made her way towards the stairs, and though he watched her ascending she didn't look back at him. They made no interaction with one another, playing it safe. The night he returned from the Sanctuary the first place he had gone was to the safe house where the Oceansiders were staying, and he recalled their cries of joy when he showed them the note from her. They had come here to help Alexandria and to save Arat from the Sanctuary, but that would make no difference if she didn't want to be saved.

"Well there we have it, Rick," Negan said pleasantly, resuming his place at the head of the table. "You don't have them here. But you know where they are?"

"How could I?" he questioned lowly, still staring at the opposite wall. "This is the first I've heard of it."

"I do hope you're telling the truth," he warned, somehow managing to keep his tone pleasant. Making himself comfortable while he waited for Arat he put his feet back up on the table again and looked to Carl. "Would you be so kind as to get me a beer? I feel like boiled shit."

"You look hungover," Carl commented lowly.

"I am hungover," he said with a bite of impatience. "I oughta be recovering in bed, but here I am enjoying your fine company. So how 'bout that beer?"

"We don't have any beer. You took it all."

Negan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "What _do_ you have?"

"Instant coffee."

There was a long pause, Negan pursing his lips. "Coffee then," he said impatiently, brandishing the empty mug at him. "And if you make it with love I'll bring a case of beer for you. You see how nice I am, kid?"

Keeping the peace Carl obliged, taking the empty mug and making him a fresh cup of coffee. Fifteen minutes passed without incident while Arat enjoyed what was likely her first hot shower in years, but still Negan couldn't resist flaunting his power over Rick, taking every opportunity to goad him. The moment Judith had finished her lunch Negan picked her up from the high chair and carried her into the living room, looking Rick in the eye as they sat down together and began emptying her toy box. It took all of his self control to keep his face impassive, to ignore the way Judith so happily played with the man responsible for so much misery. All the while she kept looking over at him, no doubt wondering why he wouldn't play with her too, why he just sat there in silence while Carl stood in the kitchen, watching their every move.

"Tell me, Rick," Negan said conversationally, tipping his head back as he drank the last of the coffee. "Is this because you were a cop?" he asked, gesturing to the mug.

"Yes," he answered, knowing a response was expected.

"Let me guess. Sheriff's Deputy? Small country town in the South. You worked, the wife was a stay at home mom. The best kind there is."

"I see you've been talking to Carrie," he replied shortly.

"Indeed I have," he gloated. "I'm curious. Why'd you never take your family to the big smoke?"

Figuring there was no point in avoiding it, not if Carrie had already told him these things, he answered. "We were waiting until Carl finished middle school."

"And then you were taking the Detective's exam," he clarified, enjoying the way he led the conversation.

"Yes."

"A noble pursuit," he commended, bringing Judith into his lap when she brought him a picture book. "I heard you were shot in the line of duty."

Now he grit his teeth, looking over at him. "Is this necessary?"

Negan shrugged his shoulders, feigning disappointment. "I'm just trying to make polite conversation."

Thankfully Rick was spared from responding, footsteps on the staircase announcing the return of Arat. Freshly showered and wearing Carrie's clothing she emerged into the living room, looking at Negan in satisfaction. "Was that my reward?"

"Was it worth wading though all that shit and piss?" he enquired, apologising as he lifted Judith from his lap and stood.

"Fuck yeah," she laughed, shoving her soiled clothing at Carl. "Bag this up for me."

"You see Rick, a little politeness goes a long way," Negan lectured, gesturing to Arat. "Look at how damn happy she is. I don't think I've ever seen a smile on her face until today."

"You want anything else, or are we shipping out?" she asked expectantly, becoming serious again.

Negan seemed to consider this, turning his attention to Rick and holding his gaze a moment. "Last chance, Rick. Do you know where they are?"

He let out a short breath. "I already told you, I don't."

"Well then," he pondered, turning back to Arat. "We best get back to work. Lots of ground to cover."

Without another word Arat nodded in agreement, seizing her bagged clothes from Carl and then leaving. Negan too quickly prepared to depart, cheerfully picking Judith up and holding her on his hip. "I'll see you next time, little lady," he crooned at her, ticking her cheek and then pressing a kiss to her forehead, one that made Rick's stomach turn in revulsion. "Next visit I'll bring you something special. How's that sound?"

"Me?" she asked, giving him a wide smile. When he nodded she turned at Rick and repeated her words, telling him the good news.

"Time to say goodbye," Negan said, setting her down with her toys and then waving at her. "In a while, crocodile."

She blinked at him in confusion, lips parting as she tried to say that word. "C'ogadile," she murmured, brow furrowed before she waved her hand at him.

"I'll come back to visit when I've found Daryl," Negan threatened, donning his leather jacket at the door. "I'll even let you pick which hand I lop off the poor bastard first."

Refusing to rise to this, Rick remained silent. When the door closed he glanced up and watched Negan crossing the front porch, holding his breath as he waited for them to all go.

"Why did you let him do all that?" Carl asked in frustration, hastening to free him from the hand cuffs. "He was walking all over us."

Released now, Rick got to his feet and took the handcuffs and key back, glancing outside. "It's about self control and knowing when to shut up," he said shortly, watching as Negan and the others began piling into their cars. "You'd do well to take notice."

Picking up Judith he carried her on his hip as he opened the front door, but he went no further than the threshold. As the cold air entered the otherwise warm house he watched on as the Saviours began leaving, listening to the hum of activity that was soon joined by the distant sound of the gate opening. Making quite a display Negan spun the tyres as he turned the car around, leaving skid marks on the road along with the smell of burnt rubber. Not caring a dime Rick went back inside and passed Judith to Carl.

"Don't let her touch the water on the floor," he said, fetching his radio from where he had left it on the table. "South watch, come in."

"It's Francine here," she answered over the radio. "They're leaving, just taking their time about it."

"Dad, what's going on?" Carl demanded, following him as he made his way through the house, opening the door to the garage and looking inside. "Where are Carrie and Daryl?"

"Help me check the house," he instructed, opening the closet beneath the stairs and checking inside.

"What's going on?"

He paused a moment, unable to offer the reassurance so desperately needed. "Just help me check the house."

Carl left his enquiries at that for now, and together they made quick work of clearing their home, checking every room and closet to ensure there was no one left. Rick ventured into his bedroom last, but a quick look around left him disappointed. Arat had clearly been into their closet and had made use of the en suite bathroom…she'd had fifteen minutes up there, but had done nothing with that.

"Dad," Carl began, pointing to Judith. "What's that?"

Coming back into the bedroom he looked at Judith standing by his sleeping bag, seeing that she was excitedly unfolding something. His heart leapt when he saw that it was a map of the city and surrounding areas, and he all but tore it from Judith's hands to see it for himself. A location was circled in red, accompanied by a messy scrawl of handwriting he recognised.

 _Tuesday. 0200. Daikin Framing Store._

"That was Arat, wasn't it?" Cark asked, he too studying the map.

"Yes," he nodded, neatly folding it and slipping it into his pocket. "Will you stay here with your sister?"

"Not a chance," Carl said bluntly. "I want to know what's going on."

Downstairs he could hear someone calling out to him, their people already looking to him for answers, wanting answers. While some were tentatively venturing into their homes to check the damage most people were waiting out in the street, kids shivering in the cold weather. Maggie was one of the first to rush over to him, pulling on her winter coat as she tucked the baby monitor into the pocket.

"Tell me its true," she implored, meeting him on the street. "They escaped?"

"It's true," he nodded. "We're clear inside?"

"All clear," Rosita assured, falling into step beside him. "Everything went without a hitch, just like we needed."

At this news he allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. For a moment he allowed himself to collect his thoughts, reassuring himself that everything was okay…it had been perfect. Negan's visit couldn't have gone any better than it had. As he quickly made his way to the other side of the community he was followed by many of his people, word spreading quickly that what the Saviours had told them was true, Carrie and Daryl had escaped.

"Francine?" he asked over the radio. "They're gone?"

"Gone," she confirmed. "All of them."

"This is Aaron on the highway," another voice came. "Confirming that twelve vehicles arrived, and twelve vehicles just passed. They're gone."

Confident, Rick didn't delay a moment longer. High with exhilaration he made his way over to the sewer drain that had earned Arat a hot shower for clearing, his people crowding around in curiosity. His behaviour earned him some frowns of confusion, but no one questioned him when he removed the grate and shone his flashlight down.

"You can come out now."

There was a long silence as they waited, but then two figures appeared at the bottom, Dianne and Lana shielding their faces as they looked up into the bright light. With his assurances they began to ascend the ladder, bringing with them the blankets that had kept them warm and mostly dry during their many hours down there.

"Your hospitality stinks," Dianne complained when she reached the top, gratefully accepting his hand as he helped her out.

"You're no guest, you're furniture by now," he smiled, clasping her on the shoulder while Rosita helped Lana out.

"Did he believe us?"

"Yeah, I think he did." Managing to smile he turned to the rest of his people, finally giving everyone the full story. "Carrie and Daryl are at the Kingdom. They escaped yesterday, and they made it there just after sundown."

"I came straight here to warn Rick," Dianne added, gratefully accepting a clean blanket Gabriel brought to her. "I knew the Saviours would come here looking for them, we just didn't know when. We had to make sure Lana wasn't found."

Though she had been overjoyed at the news that Carrie and Daryl were both safe, right now Lana seemed less positive than most. Perhaps it was the hours spent waiting in the cold and smelly sewers, for her relief seemed rather muted.

"Arat saw me," she said quietly. "Dianne too."

"She came all the way through the sewers, we couldn't hide," Dianne apologised.

"She looked right at me," Lana reiterated, sounding worried. "How do we know we can trust her? Telling us where to find Oceanside is one thing…she might be luring us into a trap."

"She was your friend," Rick challenged, looking at her closely. "You tell me."

"That was a long time ago. She might be trapping us," she repeated, looking around at everyone.

At this he withdrew the map Arat had left behind, opening it to one place in particular, the meeting time and place. "We're going to find out for ourselves."

"Dad," Carl said expectantly, making his way through their people. "We have to go to the Kingdom. Now."

At this Rick paused, dreading the answer he had to give, but to his relief Dianne answered on his behalf.

"No," she said firmly, addressing the entire community. "Going to the Kingdom right now would be a mistake. The Saviours will be looking everywhere for Carrie and Daryl. If they see any of you in the Kingdom's vicinity we lose our biggest advantage."

"We need to stay put," he agreed with great reluctance. "For now at least."

"Dad, no," Carl argued, trying to appeal to him. "We can't leave them there alone."

"We have to," he said firmly, putting his hand on Carl's shoulder and holding his gaze. "We have to wait, do you understand? We're waiting."

"And they're not alone," Dianne spoke up. "They have all of the Kingdom, and each other. They're okay."

"But," Lana said quickly, coming forward. "If I ju-"

"That goes for you too," Rick cut her off, his tone of voice leaving no room to argue. "You are dead and buried, you can't be seen anywhere. They're safe," he emphasised. "That's all that matters right now, and we need to keep it that way. We cannot risk leading the Saviours right to them."

As a general murmur of disagreement swept those in attendance Michonne stepped forward. "Rick is right. For Carrie and Daryl the Kingdom is the only safe place they have."

Looking at her Rick nodded in agreement, thankful for her words of support. "The important thing is that they're out. They're safe now, and we can make a move as soon as we're ready."

There was a general murmur of agreement, though understandably most tones were quiet and reserved, no one relishing the necessity of going to war with the Saviours. As Rick repeated his instructions, taking particular focus on getting through to both Carl and Lana, those present began to slowly disperse, murmuring in a mixture of celebration and apprehension. Their community had been eagerly awaiting Carrie's safe return to them that day, and now were digesting the news that both she and Daryl were safe, but couldn't come home.

"Let's get you home," Tobin said worriedly, tossing Lana's damp blanket onto the ground before putting his coat around her shoulders. "Come on. A warm shower, before you turn blue."

"Dianne, you should come back to my place," Maggie suggested. "I can wash your clothes for you."

Without another word those remaining also began returning home, though particulars like Michonne, Sasha and Rosita naturally fell into step alongside one another, already getting to work to plan their next move. Rick on the other hand followed Lana, not satisfied with where they had left the conversation, and so he quickly caught up to her.

"I need to know that you're on board with this," he said as they walked. "We have to wait."

Her teeth were chattering, her face looking pale. "I don't have any choice, do I."

"Not one that I'm giving you, no. If they see us, we will lead them straight to Carrie and Daryl. They'd know about our alliance, and they will kill him. You understand that, right? They will kill him."

"I know," she murmured, reassuring Tobin when he tried to whisper something to her.

"Then you'll wait?" he asked, pestering her. He needed to hear the words from her mouth, to trust that she wasn't going to try and get to them before it was safe. It wasn't just Daryl he had to protect, but Carrie and their baby too. "Lana."

"I'll wait," she assured him, looking him in the eye as she and Tobin crossed the front porch.

Rick lingered down on the pavement, not wanting to delay her getting into a warm shower and clean clothes, but she hesitated before going inside. While Tobin stood there holding the door open she turned back to him, hesitating. "How long?"

"A couple of days. We'll have to post some scouts around the city, keep an eye on things."

"And what if you miss the baby?" she challenged, putting him on the spot. "Isn't she due about now?"

It was at this that Rick paused, for though he knew his answer it wasn't one he wanted to verbalise. This very situation had crossed his mind every day since their separation, and the answer never became easier to deal with. "The only thing that matters is they're safe, all three of them. That's all that matters."

Lana nodded, but she was still dejected as she kicked off her damp shoes before going inside. "I guess."

"Hey," he stopped her, coming up the porch steps before she could go inside. "We know they're safe, and they know _you're_ safe," he emphasised. "They didn't know that yesterday. They're going to be okay waiting for us."

"You're not worried about Daryl? About him doing something stupid?"

This thought had crossed his mind more than once, but Rick shook his head. "He wouldn't risk leading them to Carrie. Besides, Dianne said he wasn't in the best shape yesterday."

"Yeah," she murmured, having had much time to discuss this with her. "Don't think I'm a bitch…but it's probably a good thing, in a way."

He nodded, understanding what she was trying to say. "They'll look after each other," he said, trying to reassure himself too. Against his will he thought about the baby, his stomach twisting in guilt at the thought of missing its birth. "We'll see them soon, I promise."

The conversation ended abruptly, a sudden shiver compelling Tobin to usher her inside before she could say anything else, but it didn't matter. They had said all that needed to be said, and for now there wasn't much they could do but wait for the right opportunity, to _create_ that opportunity. His mind already racing he started making his way home, planning who he would take with him to the Kingdom, weighing up the risks of taking Carl with him as opposed to leaving him at home. Certainly keeping him close right now was a good idea, particularly given he hadn't taken well to the news that they couldn't go straight to the Kingdom. But teenage impulsiveness aside, Rick trusted his son to wait, confident that he had adequately learned the consequences of his actions last time he did something rash.

There was so much to do next, so much still at stake for Carrie and Daryl…but for the first time since that night in the woods, Rick had hope.

* * *

A/N Hope you liked the chapter - a little twist on how it could have gone. Would have been too risky for Carrie and Daryl to go straight home, especially as that's exactly where Negan would have gone looking for them.

Thanks for the awesome reviews, especially about last chapter, I so appreciate the feedback and your excitement! Next chapter is a Carrie and Daryl one, and if you're a fan of their friendship I think you'll like it!

Cheers


	60. Chapter 60

A/N The start of this chapter was actually supposed to be the opening of Chapter 59, but I just couldn't get it finished in time for posting last week. Rather than delay posting I pushed the scene to Chapter 60, further extending the Carrie/Daryl on the run scene. Hope you enjoy :-)

* * *

Friday, March 6

Huddled under a small reception desk, Carrie was waiting with bated breath. Her hands were entwined with Daryl's, seeking every degree of warmth they could get, but her forearms were pressed against her belly, waiting apprehensively for the next contraction that had been coming ever since she had killed Laura. Her belly had been tightening and relaxing intermittently ever since, bursts of pain that went beyond her usual discomfort…but she had been at rest for thirty minutes now, and hadn't felt a thing. The contractions hadn't been real, and she kept telling herself that over and over. It was just cramps, caused by the stress of what was going on. Inside her she could feel the baby moving a little, adjusting their position or stretching out, she couldn't tell which. The feeling of it safe inside her was enough to bring comfort, for her to know that it was okay.

They rode all the way into the city before the bike ran out of gas, highlighting how foolish and shortsighted her plan had been. If she had prepared for this they would be home by now, but she hadn't put much thought into anything beyond actually escaping. Daryl's bike was hidden where it had stopped, and if they were lucky the Saviours wouldn't ever find it, but keeping it out of their hands was the last thing on their mind. They concealed the bike only to hide their tracks, so that if any Saviours came searching in the next few hours they wouldn't know they were on the right track.

She and Daryl had spent almost two hours on foot before the light sprinkles of rain became heavier, before he noticed the grimace of discomfort on her face from the false contractions. They were heading for one of their cars that had been stashed in the city months ago, and though it couldn't be much farther it felt like they had been walking for hours. Carrie's hips were sore and her feet aching, a blister growing on the back of her heel, but she had hidden her ailments as best she could. Daryl too was in pain, remaining hunched over as he walked and always short of breath.

It was in both their best interests that they stop to rest, even if it extended the time they were out in the dangerous world. Well experienced they both knew how to keep warm, instinctually getting into a small space and huddling together, holding hands and using one another for warmth. They were close enough to breathe the same air, her belly pressed against his leg, and as they settled in to rest she wondered if he would be able to feel her contractions. The law office they sought refuge in was being painted before the outbreak, with the stained drop sheets doing much to keep them warm. On the wall above the reception desk was a mirror, one that gave them a clear view of the sidewalk and street outside, allowing them to keep an eye on their surroundings. For the time being, it was safe to rest.

Daryl smelled of days old sweat, his hands dirty from the work he'd been doing with the Walkers, but Carrie couldn't care less. She huddled close to him, needing more than warmth. She was scared, beginning to regret what she had done. If he died out here it would be because she brought him out, because she forced his hand. Once she killed Laura she left him no choice but to go with her. She hadn't asked him if he wanted to take this risk, she had forced him into it…was she going to regret that?

"How's it…goin'?" he whispered, awkwardly gesturing to her belly.

Dwelling on this for a few moments she took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. "I think it was just nothing," she murmured, feeling foolish. "Just needed to rest."

He nodded, letting go of her hands as he leant out from under the desk. He peered up at the mirror, his brow furrowed. "Stopped rainin'…"

As he said this a drop of water fell from the tendrils of his hair, reminding her of how cold it was outside. She had gloves to wear, and though she wished she could share them with him they wouldn't fit his hands. He wouldn't even take her scarf, though she had offered it more than once.

Slowly he got to his feet, pushing aside the drop sheets and then tucking them back around her. "Stay 'ere."

Not arguing she let him go, taking a little more time to rest and stay warm. He quickly disappeared from sight as he moved towards the back of the offices, leaving her completely alone for the first time, but she was not afraid. Waiting patiently she pushed away the drop sheets and began getting ready, bracing herself. Beneath the drop sheets was the white blanket Glenn had given her for the baby, and she carefully folded it back up, but her heart sank when she saw the state it was in. There were marks on it, a few red smudges that would be Laura's blood…it was ruined, and that hurt more than it should. Nevertheless she carefully put it back into the laundry bag Laura had given her a week ago, the one emblazoned Alexandria.

Still waiting, she took the knife she stole from Laura and turned to the drop sheets. Cutting off a small square she folded it up before slipping it into the back of her boot to cushion the blister, panting from the effort of reaching her foot. She had more walking ahead of her, and the bandaid she put on wasn't doing much to help. Thinking about Daryl she turned her knife to the drop sheets again, cutting wide strips that he could use to keep his neck and hands warm.

She was watching the mirror from the corner of her eye, and so was not alarmed when the office's front door opened, Daryl having walked the perimeter. When he came in he paused as he looked down, seeing that she was getting ready to go.

"You should stay," he suggested, looking impressed with the makeshift scarf she passed to him. "Car ain't far."

She glanced up, noting that for all his efforts to hide it from her, he was still hunched over. Leaving her here wasn't about losing deadweight so he could move faster, for if one of them was deadweight right now it was him. He was looking out for her, doing the right thing by someone he loved, but she couldn't let him go alone.

"If it's not far, then I can make it."

He huffed under his breath, sounding like he had expected that. "It's far," he said heavily. "Another mile at least. You should stay."

"I can make it."

To her relief he didn't try to argue further, but just reached down a hand to help her up. She ignored it, not wanting him to strain whatever injuries he was hiding, and she used the reception desk to haul herself up. As she got her bearings she looked at herself in the mirror, surprised by how familiar the reflection was. Her hair was damp and plastered to her neck, clumps of Laura's blood dried into her hair, while her face and clothes were spattered with viscera and blood from the Walkers she had killed…but this wasn't even her worst day out in this world. This was the cost of survival, and she had survived worse before.

"I just have to pee," she said, heading for the employee restroom.

"At least you don't gotta squat this time."

Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment, but his playful teasing made her feel a little better. They had to stop earlier for her to relieve herself, Daryl keeping watch while she tried not to get pee all over her clothes. When she came out of the restroom he was waiting for her by the door, peering out to the street. There she joined him, looking out at the streets blessedly clear of Walkers as though they too had detested the rain. He asked her one more time if she would stay, but when she shook her head in refusal he accepted her answer. Before they left they shrouded themselves under the decorator's drop sheets, the material surprisingly good at keeping out the cold wind, and like before they walked in silence.

They walked not at a leisurely stroll, but as quick a pace as they both could manage. Carrie's heart was pounding, her lungs working hard to support her body as she power walked, but all too quickly she was tiring again. Her hips were aching, her sciatic nerve troubling her the way it hadn't before during her pregnancy. Nevertheless she managed to keep up, holding Daryl's hand as they walked as a reminder that she couldn't stop again, that neither of them could. They had been out here too long, and night fell quickly these days. Already the sky was dark and overcast, and the smell of more rain lingered in the air.

"Want somethin' to eat?"

Daryl was rifling around in the bag as they walked, making good use of the food she had packed. They had tried to ration it earlier, eating only enough to appease his hunger when they abandoned the bike and started on foot. The Saviours hadn't brought him any food or water since the morning before, starvation having been part of the solitary confinement that was supposed to drive home that he really was Negan now. When he passed her a chocolate chip cookie she took it with a word of thanks, sipping from her bottle of water before holding it out to him, reminding him to drink too.

"You ever see Washington, before?" she asked, trying to make conversation. It had been awfully quiet up until now, and she needed something to say.

Daryl shook his head. "Never been far outta Georgia 'till now."

At this she frowned, his answer not quite adding up. "But, that story about Chicago?"

"Chicago Sunroof?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching into what was almost a smile. "That weren't me, that was Merle."

"You tell that story all the time," she protested. "You said it was you."

"Well I was tellin' yah lies," he muttered, gripping her hand a little tighter as they crossed to the other side of the street. Ahead of them had been a cluster of Walkers, and they walked a little faster now. "You ever see Washington?"

"Too often. I used to come down here for work."

"From New York?"

She nodded, relaxing a little now that they had passed the Walkers. "There was a Starbucks at Union Station, one of the barista's there reminded me of Matt Damon. Sometimes I wonder what happened to him."

Though she got the feeling he wasn't at all interested in the conversation, for her sake he kept talking. "Who? Coffee guy, or Matt Damon?"

"Both, I guess."

Daryl snorted under his breath, pulling the drop sheets higher around his shoulders. "All them rich folk. They're on some private island."

"Rich folk, huh?"

"Mmm. Loaded up their pearls and jumped on a fancy yacht."

Carrie smiled, not mentioning her former wealth. "They would have packed their gold bullion too."

He shook his head in exasperation. "C'mon girl, less talk more walk."

Noting that he still sounded short of breath she let him be, not even admonishing him for calling her _girl_. Though it had been short their brief conversation had helped her relax a little, making her feel as though it were any other day. She cast her mind back to the supply run to Georgia when she had first met Rick's group, including Daryl. Though at first they were very standoffish, slowly but surely they had warmed up to one another, and by the time they made it back to Alexandria she would have comfortably called him a friend. Those many hours spent travelling by car felt like decades ago, not barely one year.

Over another hour passed by the time they made it to their destination, and when Daryl told her that had arrived she had just about fallen to her knees in relief. Though she hadn't felt any more labour pains her body was aching to rest again, her hips feeling like they would no longer support her body. She was practically staggering as they drew their weapons and cautiously made their way around the perimeter of an auto repair shop, shaking the metal fence that enclosed it. When there was no sign of life they pushed open the gate, crossing the parking lot and approaching the pallid grey building.

The full height doors at the back of the shop were wide open, and it was into the dark interior that Daryl led her. They continued walking with caution, having no flashlight with which to look around, but Carrie felt more elation than fear. Finally they had made it to their emergency car, and soon they would be at the Kingdom, the only place they would be safe in the immediate future. All they had to do was make it there, and then it was all over.

"You're kidding me, right?" she questioned, confused when Daryl made his way towards a car in the far corner of the workshop sitting on four stacks of bricks. The paintwork was fading, the front fender missing completely, and it was the only car in the whole shop that was missing all four tyres.

"She runs like a dream," he insisted, opening the driver's side door and then hitting the button for the trunk. Looking as weary as she he made his way around to the back and lifted the trunk, looking relieved. "We just gotta put the tyres back on, and then we're good."

"Why are the tyres off in the first place?" she asked in annoyance, taking a dry jacket when he passed it to her.

"So pricks like them Saviours are less inclined to steal it," he answered, he too putting on a dry jacket.

He reached inside the trunk for the backpack stowed, but when he lifted it he visibly winced, lips curling around a hiss of pain. Hastening to help him Carrie took the bag and glanced inside, the array of guns and ammunition making a nice addition to the two guns they were carrying now, Rick's Colt and Laura's pistol. She tossed it onto the passenger seat of the car and then looked for the keys, finding them under the visor.

"Gimme that wrench up there," he instructed, already rolling a tyre towards the car. "Yah see it?"

The wrench sitting on a nearby workbench wasn't the only thing she could see, for crossing the parking lot was a single Walker. In their haste they had left the metal fence wide open, and if they didn't work quickly there would be more than the one Walker coming down on them. For most of their journey they had been followed by the dead, and though they had kept good pace on them now they would start catching up.

The wrench was heavier than she expected, but she took a comfortable grip on it before making her way out into the parking lot, completely aware of how ridiculous she must look as she waddled up to a Walker. She was panting for breath, sweaty and hot despite the cold weather, and she took her frustrations out on the dead with a heavy swing of her arm. The feeling of the wrench hitting the decaying skull brought with it a distinct sense of satisfaction, and she needlessly hit the Walker again. It crumbled to the ground, giving a pathetic snarl as it finally succumbed to death the way it should have years ago.

"Here," she said shortly, passing the wrench to Daryl.

He muttered under his breath, looking at it in disgust. "Could'a given me the clean end."

"I'll give you the clean end of something," she threatened, starting to feel short tempered.

Taking the keys out of her pocket she returned to the front of the car and reached inside, slipping the key into the ignition. Surprised when the console illuminated she turned the ignition on, her heart soaring when the engine started without so much as a fluster. After much time sitting idle the battery didn't even need a jump start. She looked at Daryl over her shoulder, able to smile now, for together they were getting closer and closer to the safety of the Kingdom. Encouraged by their success she rushed around to the other side of the workshop, her body aching a little less as she retrieved another tyre and began rolling it into position.

Working together they quickly secured all four tyres back in place, but there was little time to celebrate their shared success. Daryl was clutching the car as he pulled himself up from his knees, still panting in discomfort even as he tried staggering towards the driver's side door, but Carrie was having none of it. She quickly intercepted him, stepping in his way before ushering him back a few paces.

"You lay down," she instructed, opening the back door for him. "Try to rest, okay?"

"D'yah know the way?" he asked, lowering himself onto the back seats without much protest.

"You can tell me," she assured him, grabbing the laundry bag and rifling around inside. She passed him a fresh bottle of water before taking out the white blanket, carefully laying it out over him before putting the drop sheets on top.

Closing the door after him she went about the last two tasks, clearing a path for her to bring the car out before opening the metal fence as wide as possible. It wouldn't matter if they were leaving tracks, if the Saviours had a keen enough eye to realise that someone had been here, for in no time at all they would be safe. As if to remind her for how long she had been out there the sky had already begun to darken, a few drops of rain falling onto her face and shoulders as she returned to the car. It would be nightfall soon, but they couldn't afford to stop…they had to do this now.

When she sank into the drivers seat she gave a low cry of relief to be off her feet, and when she slammed the door shut and closed themselves inside she immediately felt safer. Though she wanted to rest her eyes for just a few minutes she allowed herself only a moment to take a sip of water. Her hands were trembling as she put her seatbelt on and safely adjusted it around her belly, glancing into the back at Daryl who had begun shivering. With the heater blasting there was nothing else she could do but get them both to the Kingdom, and so she shifted the car into gear and then took off. The feeling of the engine rumbling beneath her was more reassuring, and when she turned right onto the street at Daryl's directions she gave a small laugh of joy.

Even with everything working against them, they were going to make it.

* * *

Monday, March 9

It felt so strange to peacefully awaken, to lay there in bed and not feel the dreadful weight of despair and misery on her chest. For the third morning in a row she awoke completely content, knowing that she and her baby were safe, that Daryl was too. Warm and comfortable her eyes fluttered open to look up at the ceiling above the bed, enjoying the newfound sense of contentment that a few days ago she hadn't thought possible. Nevertheless her difficulty sleeping had not abated, and nor had the reason she awoke many times throughout the night.

Used to this state of discomfort, Carrie forced herself to rise from the warm bed, trying not to disturb Daryl who was sleeping next to her. Reaching for her new fuzzy slippers and dressing gown she made her way across the room, pulling the gown tighter around her body as she felt the morning air chilling her. She occupied what had once been a kindergarten classroom, two classes sharing a small adjoining bathroom. There were no doors on the stalls, they had privacy only from a curtain and the toilets were quaint, but for this particular need they were convenient.

Making use of some hand sanitiser she left the small bathroom, but she turned right instead of left, glancing into the classroom that had actually been allocated to her. The space was large and comfortable, more suitable to her needs now and in the near future, but she had spent little time in there. Having never been slept in the bed was neatly made, while her array of new belongings were neatly set out on the table and her clothing folded in the closet. Still feeling bleary with sleep she made her way back through the bathroom and into the smaller classroom on the other side, the one that belonged to Daryl.

The layout and possessions were much the same as hers, but in contrast Daryl's room had been made use of for more than storage. Taking off her dressing gown and slippers she joined him in the bed again, trying not to disturb him when she readjusted the blankets and pillows. He slept on undisturbed, not rousing even when she slipped a pillow between her knees and snuggled up. As she settled back in the renewed sense of peace and contentment returned again. She had a perfectly good room and adequate bed, but she hadn't been able to bear sleeping alone. It was nicer sharing a bed with him, to be able to lay next to him and know that they were together and he was safe…that they both were.

They had fled Negan and the Sanctuary three days ago, becoming refugees in the safety of the Kingdom. They didn't get within a mile of the place before they were intercepted, guards appearing out of nowhere and forcing them to a stop in the middle of the road. Carrie had driven the rest of the way there, Daryl slumped over in the back seat as he tried to rest, and even as they were surrounded with guns and angry shouts she could have shouted in joy. No longer afraid she simply secured the handbrake and raised her hands, allowing the body-armour clad strangers to approach with guns raised, but a minute later someone else was arriving on horseback…Dianne.

"By the mercy of God," Dianne exclaimed in astonishment, dismounting her horse before opening the driver's side door. "Carrie Grimes."

As she emerged she saw the Kingdom's guards visibly lurching back in surprise, hastily lowering their guns when they saw that she was heavily pregnant, and then a flurry of understanding swept through them all. Before she knew it Dianne had hugged her, and it didn't matter that Carrie could count on one hand the number of times they had met, that was the moment she realised they were safe. She had cried pitifully, voice catching in her throat as she explained that they had escaped, that they needed help.

Minutes later they were inside the Kingdom's walls, and clearly word had spread in minutes, for they were greeted by a small crowd of onlookers, the atmosphere buzzing with the news that the Sanctuary's prisoners had escaped. For a few moments Carrie stood there completely overwhelmed, trying to fathom that all these strangers were celebrating her and Daryl's good fortune. Waiting for them was King Ezekiel who had warmly greeted her as though they were long lost friends. He had loudly proclaimed to all that she and Daryl were welcome to seek asylum in his Kingdom, and there was something comforting and familiar about the way he had put hands on her shoulders. He held her gaze as he promised that his people were to be at her service, that should she need or want for something she need only ask.

Her only request was perhaps the most difficult. "Rick," she began, looking between Ezekiel and Dianne. "Can you tell him somehow?"

"I'll make sure he knows," Dianne assured her. "The Saviours will be looking for you. We need to warn him."

Without another second wasted she and Daryl were both plied with food and water, warm blankets shrouding their shoulders as they made their way straight to the medical block. By the time they made it there were people waiting already, supplying her with a dry jacket and a towel for her hair, someone else helping her out of her damp boots and into a pair of slippers. Though it was care much needed, Carrie would quietly admit that she was glad when the fuss died down and they left her alone. She had become overwhelmed so very quickly, her mind still struggling to comprehend their newfound freedom, that it was real. As Daryl went in to see Mak and she went to see Brea she kept looking around in suspicion, certain that at any moment she was going to wake up and find it had all been a wonderful dream, that none of this was real.

Likely having noticed how overwhelmed she was Brea had ushered her into the examination room and then allowed her a few minutes to collect herself, closing the drapes to ensure her privacy. Clutching a mug of warm tea Carrie sat on the edge of the bed in silence, tears streaming down her face. They had been separated only minutes by now, and though she knew he was only in the other room she wanted nothing than to be with Daryl again, certain that without one another something terrible would happen to them. It was a strange state of mind to consciously know that they were safe but to still feel the need to help him, to make sure he was as safe and well.

"Would you like to discuss anything that happened?" Brea gently asked, having given her some time in solitude.

Carrie shook her head. "No."

"Can I offer you an ultrasound? To check on the baby?"

"Yes, please," she said in relief, for though she had no reason to fear for her baby, she needed the reassurance.

As she lay down and the ultrasound got started she suddenly wanted to bombard the doctor with questions, to demand to know why she and Richard hadn't come to Alexandria the day they had promised. They had made a deal with Rick and broke it, Brea's absence and her own fear for the baby being the only reason Carrie had gone in the RV that day. For a moment she wanted to lay all the blame on Brea, to call her cruel and selfish for not coming to Alexandria. But later when she had learned of the circumstances of Richard and Benjamin's death she was glad she had kept her questions and accusations to herself.

"Can you tell the gender?" she asked in trepidation, broaching a subject that she wasn't sure she wanted to discuss, especially right now.

Choosing her words carefully, Brea nodded. "Mmmm, yes. I checked the gender last when you visited in November. You don't know, right?"

Unsure of what to say, Carrie was quiet for a few moments. "The doctor at the Sanctuary, he told me," she said quietly, her eyes trained on the monitor where she could see her baby. "He knew I wanted it to be a surprise, and he was being an asshole."

Brea frowned. "Why was he being an asshole?"

"I trashed his office…pretty badly, actually."

"Oh," she said politely, neither approving nor disapproving.

Carrie pursed her lips, bracing herself. "He said it was a boy." As she spoke she tried to gauge Brea's reaction, to determine whether or not it was true, but her face remained impassive.

"Do you want to know?" she asked, moving the transducer around.

At this Carrie paused, thinking on this for a few moments. Rick had wanted to be surprised, and she had reluctantly agreed to play along…but now after what Carson had said she knew that the surprise had been soured, regardless of whether he was being truthful or just trying to mess with her.

"I'd like to know. Please," she added.

"You sure?" Brea double checked cautiously. "You're nearly full term, it might not be much longer."

She nodded her head, certain of her decision. "I need to know if he was trying to mess with me, or just being an asshole. I want to know."

"Okay then," she murmured, moving the transducer around and trying to get a better shot. She took her time, checking that she was absolutely sure. "You're going to have a little boy."

For a moment Carrie simply stared at the screen, feeling dumfounded before a surprising burst of elation erupted inside her. She was smiling as she propped herself up on her elbows, trying to get a better look. "A boy?" she confirmed, her heart starting to pound. "It's really a boy?"

"Not a doubt in my mind, a little boy. He's mooning us right now, you can see his penis right here."

"Oh my God," she gasped, letting out a joyful laugh when Brea pointed out the evidence on the screen.

After what Carson had done she didn't anticipate feeling particularly elated either way, certain that he had ruined the surprise for her. But clearly that wasn't the case if her racing heart and beaming smile as anything to go by. Laying back down on the bed she grinned like an idiot, resisting the urge to run her hands over her belly while the ultrasound was still going. She really was having a boy…she and Rick would have a son.

"Congratulations," Brea smiled, feeding off her excitement. "Got any names in mind?"

"A couple," she said, her heart still racing. "Ethan, maybe. And Rick suggested Calvin too."

"They're nice names. And I've never met an asshole named Ethan, so it's got that going for it."

Still beaming, Carrie waited in anticipating for the ultrasound to finish, and when Brea wiped her belly clean of the ultrasound gel she sat up and put her hands on her belly, overjoyed with the news. "Please don't tell Rick that I know," she requested, already thinking ahead to their reunion, though there was no telling when that would be. "He wanted to be surprised. I don't want him to know that Carson ruined it for me."

"Secret's safe with me," Brea promised as she tidied things up. "Everything looks as it should, the baby's still in a good position for birth. I can do an internal examination if you want, just to check you cervix, but it's not essential."

At this offer her first instinct was to refuse it, particularly if it wasn't completely necessary, but then she thought about her devout refusal to allow Carson to do the same check. He had asked her more than once to undergo a pelvic examination, and seemed to take her refusal personally. But at the Sanctuary the right to refuse that was one of the few powers she had there, and she had clung to it only for him to threaten to violate that.

"Can it wait a little longer?"

"If you haven't had bleeding or anything unusual, of course it can wait."

"I had some pain today," she admitted reluctantly. "But it stopped when I rested for a while."

Brea seemed unconcerned, simply nodding along as she pushed the ultrasound back into the corner. "You're in perfect heath Carrie, the baby too. Let's revisit in a day or so, shall we?"

"Thanks," she said, feeling that weight lifted off her shoulders. She trusted Brea, she had seen her as a doctor before, but right now she just wasn't quite in the right head space to feel so vulnerable, even with someone she trusted.

"Let's get you to the shower block," Brea suggested. "And then maybe a hot meal and rest. Your room should be ready by then."

Despite her hunger and eagerness to get out of these bloodstained clothing, Carrie insisted on waiting for Daryl. She seated herself outside the consultation room he was in and waited, not giving any thought to the notion of putting any more distance between them than there already was. His appointment with Mak took over an hour, and when he came out he seemed a little better than when he had gone in. There was some colour in his cheeks now, a cannula in the back of his hand having provided medicine and fluids to start recovering.

In the company of Jerry they had been taken out to one of the Kingdom's portable shower blocks, both of them allocated clean clothing, buckets of warm water and toiletries. In the privacy of side by side stalls Carrie and Daryl make quick work of the task, both well practiced in the art of using a bucket of water to clean up. She started from the head down, shampooing and conditioning her hair before wrapping it in a towel, and then she started on her torso, washing away the sweat and dried blood that still remained. Cold, she quickly dried off and put on a clean shirt before starting on her lower half, but when she removed her leggings she was struck by a harsh reminder of the brutality of what she had done. The fabric was stiff with dry blood, reminding her of the way she had been kneeling by Laura's side as she stabbed her to death, mutilating her face. For a few horrible minutes she felt panicked by the need to wash it all away, scrubbing at the creases of her skin to rid herself of the evidence that marked her.

Their first night had been spent in the Infirmary, Daryl needing to be under supervision throughout the night. Wanting to be close Carrie had slept upright in an armchair nearby, and the following morning when he was a little stronger, Mak and Brea had taken him in for surgery, reopening the stab wound he had sustained two weeks ago. There was no question that Carson had provided medical care, but its purpose had been to keep him working, not to ensure his recovery from a knife and gunshot wound.

In the days that followed, freedom took on a new meaning to them both. At the Sanctuary she had been afforded certain freedoms, but she was not a free person. Here in the Kingdom she was also confined within the walls, but here she was liberated, both in body and spirit. Glenn and Abraham were still dead, and though they finally had the opportunity to start mourning them, it came with the news that Lana was alive. She had made it to the Hilltop after all, had survived a hasty surgery to remove her appendix that had not only saved her life, but her pregnancy too.

While Carrie had been overcome with joy at this news, Daryl's reaction was muted, not that this spoke to the magnitude of his relief. When he learned that she was alive he had visibly flinched, his mouth twisting as he lowered his head and kept an impassive face, but then his shoulders heaved. He had hugged her, trembling as he clung to her, not knowing how else to express his relief.

As she dwelled on this memory, picturing the look of joy in Daryl's eyes when he finally let her go, she noticed that he was rousing from his sleep. He had taken a sleeping pill last night, and though she could tell he had laid awake for at least an hour after they went to bed, once he was asleep he had stayed that way. For the first time he had slept peacefully, not constantly getting up to smoke a cigarette or go wandering around outside. Now that he was awake she didn't bother trying not to disturb him when she got up to pee again, and by the time she came back he was laying on his back staring up at the ceiling, glancing at her as she approached.

"Morning," she murmured, slipping back under the covers and snuggling into her pillows. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Mmm."

As she lay there watching him Carrie resisted the urge to reach out, conscious that although she might crave the intimacy of an innocent embrace, it wasn't the case for him. By nature he wasn't an affectionate person, with small gestures like the brush of a hand as intimate to him as an embrace was to her. But still she took what she needed, and knowing he wouldn't mind she reached under the blankets for his hand and brought it to her belly.

"Careful what yah reaching for under there," he said lowly, eyes darting over to her as his fingers splayed out over her belly. "You're a married woman."

Carrie just smiled, glad that he was cracking jokes. "You feel that? That little thud?"

"Mmm."

"I think it's got the hiccups again."

The corner of his mouth twitched a little, but he didn't quite manage a smile. "Anything happenin'?"

There was no need to clarify his question. "Nothing yet. You going to come get breakfast with me, or do you want me to send it back?"

There was no doubt from her tone which answer she was hoping for. This was their third day here, and so far Daryl had practically been a recluse in his room as he recovered from the surgery, straying little further than outside the building where he would smoke. The only other time he had ventured further was during the night, when the darkness allowed him the solitude and peace to explore alone. It wasn't good for him to stay cooped up in here, and his reluctance to venture out had made it hard for Carrie too, for she disliked the idea of him sitting alone in his room while she was elsewhere. It reminded her too much of their situation at the Sanctuary, she roaming around freely while he was confined.

"Is it gon' be busy?"

"Not so much now," she answered, having checked her watch. "It'll be winding down."

He dwelled on it a moment longer, but then nodded his head. "Alright," he muttered, agreeing to go with her. "But you get outta bed first."

This comment too was most unlike Daryl, for he'd never been one for laying in bed all morning. It served to remind her of his melancholy, that he was still struggling to adapt to the notion that they were free. Nevertheless she smiled, giving him a familial kiss on the cheek before hauling herself out.

Leaving him to it she made her way back into her own room, a place she hadn't spent much time. Here she now had a closet full of clothing donated from the Kingdom's enormous storage room, and after taking a moment to be thankful for all that she had she made her selection and quickly got dressed. By now she didn't give a crap what anyone said, leggings were pants and she was wearing them for as long as she damn well pleased. It made clipping on her leg holster a little trickier, forcing her to loop an extension strap around her hips, but she had managed to make it work so far, and the motion of slipping her new gun into the holster was comforting. On the other side of her body she carried another holster that would carry Rick's Colt until she could give it back to him, and the sooner the better. The holster slapped against her leg with every step she took, and it was damn annoying. How in earth did he put up with it?

Putting on the pink denim jacket the wives had given her, Carrie straightened the front and looked down at it, her eyes scouring every inch of it for traces of Laura's blood. When she had arrived at the Kingdom someone had taken her clothes and laundered them for her, removing every trace of blood from the fabric. At first Carrie had expected it to stain, for she had always struggled to completely remove blood from clothing, but by some miracle the jacket looked as good as new. Despite where she got it she liked the jacket very much, for not only was it warm and comfortable it reminded her of the surprising camaraderie she and the wives had developed. She kept wondering how they had reacted to the news of her escape, if any of them had seen this coming or if they had suspected the reason behind her absence that day.

Finishing up with a warm scarf and her new knee high booths Carrie was ready to venture outside, and she knocked on the door to Daryl's room before going inside at his invitation. She found him sitting on the edge of his bed, one foot up on the other knee as he tied the laces of his own new boots. One quick glance told her that he was struggling with the task, that bending over was hurting his wound from the surgery, and so she rushed over to help. Neither of them said a thing as she gestured for him to stop, nor when she brought his foot onto the front of her leg and tied the laces for him, going about the same process with the other.

"Ready?" she asked, passing him his new jacket.

He grunted in affirmation, and then she caught the awful moment in which he turned around and reached for his crossbow, his hand extended into thin air as it reached for nothing. There was a small jerk of surprise when he remembered, and it hurt to see him experience that moment, but he made no mention of it and so neither did she. All she wanted to do was get him out of this room and into the world outside, to get another meal into his stomach.

Outside in the Kingdom they instinctually walked close together, for although they knew they were safe here it was still new to them. Nevertheless the other residents greeted them both as though they were long time friends, people waving to them and remembering their names. Often they made mention of Rick, Carl, Michonne and Carol, conversationally telling them of times they had met or worked together during their six week stay at the Kingdom. Though the stories largely made her heart ache with longing or swell with happiness, it was stories of the latter that hurt, Carol. Still no one had heard from her since she fled Alexandria. She could be dead for all they knew, but by now was surely long gone. She had escaped the misery of what had happened to them, and Carrie still couldn't decide if she felt acceptance or resentment.

Their arrival at the cafeteria initially went unnoticed, allowing them to quietly join the dwindling line of other late comers. But barely a moment before the door closed behind them did someone notice their arrival, and with great fanfare they were swiftly ushered down to the front of the line, everyone in the cafeteria looking up and watching on as if they were celebrities. No one protested the pregnant woman and sick man cutting the line, their hospitality a reminder that they were more than refugees taking up the Kingdom's resources. Ezekiel considered them guests here, and they were treated accordingly.

"Chef!" someone at the servery called out. "Out front, Chef."

Carrie smiled in anticipating, secretly loving the way Chef fussed over them at every meal, but in particular the banter that went back and forth with him and Daryl. Chef had been personally delivering most of Daryl's meals to his room and then coming back to collect the trays, and with every visit Daryl perked up a little.

"Ahhh, the mama," Chef greeted her, and despite his gargantuan size and stern looking face he was jovial and kindhearted. "I was to bring you breakfast in bed, but this is good too," he assured her. He slammed his hand down on the bell by the servery window, calling out expectantly to those inside the kitchen. "Gino make good food for you both. The man knows breakfast."

"Thanks Gino," Carrie called out, catching a glimpse of him as he passed two cafeteria trays through the window.

"Sweet potato hash brown and omelette," Chef recited, pointing out the various items on the tray before reaching for a spoon inside the baine marie. "Lots of vegetables in there. Then beans, sausage, bacon and fruits. You eat all, yes?" he said expectantly, looking between them both.

"Yeah, tha-"

"Danny!" Chef called as he slammed his hand on a bell, and an instant later another kitchen worker appeared in the servery window. "Juice. Bring them juice."

Exchanging a glance with Daryl she couldn't help but smile. It had been the same when they first visited last year, Chef having gone out of his way to ensure she and Carl both had adequate meals.

"What of last night's treat, mmm?" Chef asked expectantly. "What you think?"

"Dinner was great, tha…" Carrie trailed off when he waved his hand dismissively, having not been talking to her.

"That was some good shit," Daryl answered, his face showing some animation and interest. "That weren't no moonshine."

"You like, yes? Only best vodka for my friend," Chef said proudly, still loading their trays with food. "You'll try another? I send you another tonight. Doctor Mak say no alcohol for you, too sick, bit it's pain relief. For your good health."

Behind them was a distinct _hem hem_ , and they all looked around to find Mak standing there in line, his arms folded as he narrowed his eyes at them. "Vodka is not pain relief."

Suitably chastised, Chef hastily threw some napkins on the tray and then passed them over the glass baine marie. "Go," he murmured, averting his eyes. "Quick."

Taking their trays they thanked him before quickly finding an empty table, which were not in short supply. As they took their seats and made themselves comfortable she could still feel the eyes of everyone in the cafeteria, their interest in the refugees having not yet abated. Nevertheless it started to die down, allowing them to eat their breakfast in peace. They ate in silence, and while her own body hungered for sustenance it seemed Daryl's did not, for he ate slowly, using his fork to push his food around in disinterest.

"Careful with those beans, Dixon. I will not tolerate any more crop dusting."

This comment elicited a smile, one that actually seemed genuine. "One fart," he defended himself, smirking when he glanced up at her. "It was one fart."

"One fart that followed me around the room," she accused. "That's crop dusting."

"You're just cr-"

"Don't argue with me. Rick and Carl aren't here to blindly take your side."

He chuckled at this, but as if the mere mention of the fact that Rick and Carl weren't here brought a curtain down between them, his former disinterest made a return. He resumed eating, but like before he was merely pushing the food around, eating only a few bites here and there. She knew that he was trying to play along and remain positive for her benefit, but no doubt it was getting harder and harder for him. A few minutes later she noticed him biting his thumb nail as he stared off into space, something she'd never seen him do until the last few days. Wishing there was something she could do to comfort him she reached to him, placing her hand atop his where it rested on the table. She felt the slight jerk he made at her touch, but when he looked up it was as if nothing was amiss.

"Wha'?"

To answer she jerked her head behind him, motioning to Chef who was approaching their table. In his enormous hands he carried a soft cooler bag, its size looking even smaller in comparison to him, but Carrie knew it would be filled with goodness. They were rationed three meals here at the Kingdom, and though they were generous in proportion there was never a short supply of snacks to see them through the day, though there was no question that it was she who took advantage of them the most.

"Flapjack bars, jello fruit cups, and pear pie," he announced, setting it on the table. "You want ice cream for pie you call to kitchen, we bring for you. You have walkie talkie, yes?"

"Yeah, thanks," she said sincerely, taking a peek inside. "It all looks good."

"It is good," he emphasised. "I cooked, so it's good."

"Thanks Chef," she repeated, the sentiment echoed by Daryl too.

Clearing his throat Chef looked around the cafeteria, taking a deep breath before he spoke again. "I will not bring alcohol to you tonight. Bad for health," he said loudly, looking Mak in the eye before lowering his voice and turning to Daryl. "I bring to you at lunch. Yes?"

Daryl nodded, managing a smile. "Thanks."

"To good health," he muttered, waving at Mak as he swiftly returned to the kitchen.

"They're friendly here," she commented, trying to keep Daryl's spirits up. "Odie's offered to cut my hair for me. I'm getting the full works. Shampoo, cut and blow dry. She'll even paint my nails. Do you want to come too?"

He scoffed under his breath, taking a bite of his food. "I ain't need that shit."

"You could do with a cut."

"I got a knife for that."

Carrie sighed in bemusement, wondering why she had expected anything different. "Chloe and Dina are taking me to the store room again. I figured there's no point pretending I'm going to have the baby at home."

At her mention of the baby he looked up. "You gettin' baby shit?"

She nodded, unable to deny the necessity any longer. "They said they've got everything in storage. Crib, stroller, bouncer, clothes, blankets, diapers. Will you come with me?"

He hesitated at this, not looking her in the eye. "You know 'em? Chloe and Dina?"

"Yeah, they're real nice. Chloe had a baby in December."

"You'll be 'right on yah own," he said dismissively. "Baby things ain't my field."

Not mentioning that she had invited him more for his benefit than hers, Carrie pressed a little more. "It will be your field soon."

He nodded offishly, still not looking her in the eye. Perhaps he wasn't yet ready to see that far ahead, lacking the hope to believe that there might just be a future for him, Lana and the baby they were going to have. Knowing when to stop Carrie allowed the conversation to lapse, replaced by a comfortable silence to which they were both accustomed.

As she took a sip of water Gino emerged from the kitchen, walking quickly towards them as he dried his hands on his blue striped apron. He looked anxious, this feeling only exacerbated by the way he lowered his voice when he spoke to them. "Hey, at the Sanctuary…did you eat the bacon?"

"Sorry?" Carrie frowned, not understanding his concern.

"Did you eat bacon at the Sanctuary?"

"Ummm, yeah," she answered, glancing at Daryl. "I think we ate some. Why?"

Gino's eyes widened, his lips pressed together tightly, but he quickly collected himself. "Never mind," he awkwardly smiled, backing away. "Wrong person. Sorry."

Befuddled, Carrie watched as he rushed back to the kitchen, met at the door by Chef whose shoulders slumped. "Geez," Carrie murmured, looking at them. "What do you think that was about?"

Daryl sighed as he slowly raised his gaze to her, looking apologetic. "I didn't have the heart to tell yah," he muttered. "You'd already eaten it, figured there was no point upsettin' yah."

"Upsetting me how?" she questioned in worry, looking back to the kitchen door as Gino and Chef rushed back inside.

"The pigs at the Sanctuary? They get 'em from here, and uhh…Richard used to feed 'em Walkers to fatten 'em up."

Repeating these words inside her head she felt her heart sinking into her stomach, which suddenly felt rather queasy. "Ohhh," she muttered, putting her hand over her mouth in sheer revulsion. She thought of how often she had chowed down on a strip of the Sanctuary's delicious bacon, how she had brought Daryl a bacon sandwich at least three times.

"Ohh, God," she sighed, putting her fork down and pushing the tray away.

"If it makes any difference, it was all cooked."

"It doesn't make a difference."

She was absolutely disgusted, feeling sheer revulsion at the thought of what she had eaten. The Saviours were being supplied meat that was raised on the dead, everyone there was eating it. Pork was often found in the stews Twenty Two cooked, and in the sandwiches purchased from number Six…but they weren't the only ones. Now she felt a flicker of satisfaction, remembering who had been served a gourmet pork belly on date night.

"Negan loves pork," she said smugly, she and Daryl sharing a grin. "Bacon, ham and crispy pork belly. He chows down on that every single day."

"Bon appétit, bitch."

* * *

Exhausted though it was barely mid-afternoon, Carrie returned home to her classroom apartment. She wearily removed her scarf and jacket in favour of a sweater, pulling it on over her belly as she made her way through the adjoining bathroom before quietly knocking on Daryl's door. When she heard no answer she opened the door very slowly, wondering if he might be resting, but upon peeking inside she found his room empty. Disappointed, she let herself in and began fussing around a little, opening one of the curtains to admit some light and then making the bed. As she tidied up she took note that his jacket was gone, as were his guns and knife, but she wasn't concerned that he had done something stupid. He knew what was at stake for them. Even if he had left the Kingdom he wouldn't have gone far. The need for ongoing medical care was one thing, but if the Saviours saw him anywhere in the vicinity he would bring a search party down upon them both.

On the coffee table was an empty cafeteria tray, the cutlery and crumbs assuring her that he had eaten that afternoon, and judging by the shot glass he had enjoyed some of Chef's prescribed vodka. Right now there was one thing on her mind, and though she had eaten a good lunch and took a snack to her salon appointment she was famished already. Waiting in the soft cooler was her slice of pear pie, and she smiled upon finding that Daryl had left her the larger piece. Setting aside all standards she simply kicked off her shoes and got back into bed, balancing the pie on her belly as she got comfortable among the pillows. Eating pie in bed sure was one of her better ideas.

Really she ought to be in her own room next door, sorting through the abundance of baby supplies the Kingdom had given her, particularly given that the baby could come any day now. But there was something comforting and reassuring about Daryl's room, the space he occupied as a free man. She liked being in there, glad to know that they were still together after all that had happened. Still, it was disconcerting that he wasn't around right now. Wherever he was, this was probably the longest time they'd spent apart since their escape from the Sanctuary, and she couldn't help but worry.

Trying to get comfortable in the bed she set her plate aside and threw back the blankets, the gun holsters making her legs and hips even more uncomfortable. As she removed the holster holding Rick's Colt she looked it over for a few moments, running her fingers over the beautiful wooden grips. It felt so heavy in her hands, and she knew it had quite the recoil when fired, yet this weapon was like a part of him. She fondly remembered the day back at the prison in Georgia when he let her fire off a few rounds, and it had been quite the thrill.

Setting it aside along with her other gun and holster, Carrie warred with the pillows until she was finally comfortable again, relieved when she rested the plate of pie on her belly and began eating. Tomorrow afternoon she would be seeing Brea again to go over some plans for the birth, to talk more about pain relief and who would be there…and who might not be. She was starting to feel excited again, content for her son to come whenever he pleased, though she'd prefer him to wait a little longer so that Rick could be there too. Nevertheless her excitement was helping her come to terms with the idea that Rick might not be there, that the Saviours' search for her might prevent him coming to the Kingdom for days or weeks.

Having allowed herself to fall asleep it was dark by the time she awoke, but it wasn't only her full bladder that awoke her. When the bedroom door opened she roused, but she felt no urgency to open her eyes and look. She recognised the sound of the footfall, feeling Daryl's presence there with her, but for a few moments she pretended that it was Rick, that he was finally there. Knowing it was only fantasy she lifted her head from the pillows and looked, watching as Daryl set down his coat and weapons. In his hand he carried an amber bottle of beer, the same kind that Negan had given to Carl when he came to the Sanctuary. She ought to have known that it had come from the Kingdom.

"You eatin' pie in bed now?" he questioned, though not unkindly. "Shame on you."

She smiled, glancing at the empty plate she had discarded onto his side of the bed. With a long groan she began to stretch her arms, relishing how wonderful it felt to take a nap. "Thanks for leaving me the bigger piece."

He muttered something under his breath, taking a sip of his beer and then turning away from her. "Thanks for all that shit you did for me," he said nonchalantly.

This was probably the first time he had raised the topic of the Sanctuary himself, and she understood why he had turned away from her. Neither of them had really spoken about what happened to them there, at least not further than explaining major events to people like Dianne and Ezekiel. But the real horrors they had faced there…Daryl being imprisoned and tortured, Negan and Carson threatening to induce labor…none of that had come up yet. Neither of them were ready to discuss it.

"Except the bacon," he added lightly.

Now she cringed in revulsion, though now she was questioning whether or not it was good for them to be avoiding the subject of what happened. She knew what Daryl was like, that he internalised things like this until he snapped…she could be much the same too.

"Hair cut looks good."

She felt herself glowing under his compliment, her hand automatically reaching to touch her newly short hair, but she realised he could barely see it from the couch. She just chuckled to herself, appreciating the effort he went to of complimenting her hair even if he hadn't properly looked at it. Had he learned that from Rick?

"Thanks. You wanna go eat?" she asked, having checked her watch. The dinner service would have only started not long ago. It would be crowded, and people would stare at them for sure. "I heard there's going to be French Fries."

There was silence for a moment, and given he had just slumped down onto the couch she wasn't expecting a positive response, yet he surprised her. "I could eat. Get your ass outta bed."

Glad he was up for it, for she really didn't want to miss out on French Fries, she forced herself to throw back the blankets and get up, her hips and back feeling much better now she had rested. Figuring that would only be short term relief she slipped her boots on and then waddled towards the bathroom, pulling on her denim jacket as she went, but she slowed as she passed in front of Daryl. He was laying back with his feet up on the couch, drinking the beer without comment, but his expression was unusual…especially these days.

"What are you so cheerful about?"

He blinked, his expression changing now that he knew she was paying attention. "I dunno."

"What is it?" she asked, reaching up and touching her face. "Do I have pie on my face?"

Muttering under his breath he sat up, and she was glad to notice that he didn't flinch or instinctually brace the wound on his stomach. "Alvaro and Colton were a few miles north o' the city today, keepin' an eye on the search."

"On the Saviours?"

"Mmm. They reckon they're givin' up. They all cleared out a few hours ago, pissed off back home."

"Really?" she sighed, feeling tentative excitement. "Maybe Rick and the others will be able to come soon."

"Yeah, mmm," he nodded in agreement. He slowly stood up now, still holding his beer as he meandered over to her. "Yah reckon Lana might come with 'em?"

She paused, pleasantly surprised that he had brought her up. "Lana? Of course she'd come. If she can," she added, figuring it wasn't necessarily straight forward. "It might not be safe for her to travel right now."

"Mmm," he murmured again, blinking as he took a generous sip of his beer. "She wouldn't be showin' yet."

He stated this as a comment, but she could feel from the inflexion of his words that he was seeking her opinion on the subject. It made her heart warm to see him showing interest, particular after having rebuked the idea of involving himself in any baby stuff right now.

"Probably too early," she said, noting his disappointment. "But you might be able to see something. She's pretty slim."

At this he scoffed, laughing under his breath. "Could pick her up with one hand," he muttered as he looked around in search of his coat. "C'mon, let's get them fries."

With the news that the Saviours were giving up on the search for them, Carrie allowed herself to feel a flicker of excitement. There still was no telling how long it would be until Rick and the others could make it there, and certainly it was too early to hope for that evening, but if things really were falling into place, perhaps they could be here as early as tomorrow? It was to this possibility that Carrie placed her hope, and for the first time in days she allowed herself to start longing for Rick's arrival, something she had avoided torturing herself with up until now.

Grateful she had something to look forward to she fell into step alongside Daryl, looping her arm around his when they stepped out into the cool night. They had been free for days now, and the arrival of their family would be the final piece they were waiting for.

* * *

A/N So, what did you think? I hope you all enjoyed the fix of Carrie and Daryl friendship - let me know what you think of them and their new start at the Kingdom.


	61. Chapter 61

Tuesday, March 10

0200

The night was still, not even the shadows moving inside the abandoned store. It was eerie in there, the showroom at the front filled with temporary walls upon which various frames hung, samples of different glass and materials on display for customers long gone. Further through the back was the workshop, the walls flanked by workbenches and adorned by walls of now empty tool racks. The faded outlines of hammers and chisels contributed to the eerie feel, the supplies and materials having been scavenged by the Saviours who had also taken artwork from the showroom. But eerie though it was the shop was secure and free of Walkers, meaning it smelled of only dust, not the rotting flesh to which they were accustomed.

Rick and the group almost hadn't made it there that night, having spent the day travelling the outskirts of the city to make sure if was safe for them to come through. With the passengers he was carrying any run ins with the Saviours would have had catastrophic consequences, forcing them to take things slowly. But despite his former determination to play it safe, now he was impatient with the need to go to Carrie, unable to stand that they were still apart even though she was free. Carrie and Daryl had been free since Friday, but he hadn't yet dared to approach the Kingdom's territory. The Saviours had been searching for their escapees high and low, making it all the more miraculous that they made it to the Kingdom when they had.

Thankfully the search seemed to be dying down, allowing Rick and the others to make it through the city to the meeting with Arat, a meeting that had occupied his thoughts for two days now. This was the second time she had reached out to them, and when she had searched Alexandria's sewers she had pretended not to see Dianne and Lana. Nevertheless, it still felt too good to be true. He was going to have to make her prove herself, but even if she didn't, he had to let her live. The deal with Oceanside was dependent on her survival.

A shadow on the wall started to move, and a moment later Rosita stepped through to the back workshop. "Someone's coming," she murmured. "Looks like her."

He nodded without responding verbally, and then everyone stepped into their positions. Aaron and Sasha were already in place outside, while Rosita joined Michonne in the front of the store. Left waiting in the workshop was Rick and Dianne, while hiding in the small staff kitchen right at the back were two others, two people whose premature discovery could ruin everything. They would have to wait in silence, only able to reveal themselves if and when Rick decided that Arat was to be trusted.

Two minutes passed before the beam of a flashlight entered the store, and a few moments more went by before the door opened. The bell at the top chimed pleasantly, and the person entering stood there in the threshold a few moments, waiting for the sounds of any stray Walkers that might have found their way inside. When their entry was met with only silence they came all the way in, shining their flashlight around as their footsteps softly echoed.

"Hello?" Arat called out, keeping their voice low. "Is anyone there?"

Before she could get far inside Rosita and Michonne intercepted her, and Rick listened as she talked to them, starting with the assurance that she had come alone. Not a word was said as they ushered her through to the back where Rick was waiting, and when she came through he scrutinised her every move. Arat did not look nervous or afraid, but rather seemed to know the place well. She set her flashlight onto a nearby table, directing it to the opposite corner of the room to illuminate the space, and she seemed comfortable in her surroundings despite the Alexandrians. It wasn't surprising, for this was her territory.

There was a painful silence, neither party wishing to speak first, and so Rick maintained control. Coming forward without a word he gestured to her hands, directing her to stretch them out at her sides and to spread her feet. She did so cooperatively, allowing him to pat her down and relieve her of the gun, magazine and knives. Directing her to turn around he pulled her arms down and then removed her coat, tossing it to Michonne before patting her down again, wanting to be certain.

"It's clear," Michonne murmured, having inspected the coat. When Rick was satisfied he stepped away, giving Michonne a short nod that allowed her to toss the coat back, and Arat took it in relief.

"We good?" Arat clarified, quickly putting her coat back on.

"Get on your knees," he said lowly, not breaking her gaze.

It was her that looked away first, her eyes darting around to the others. A moment later she braced herself before lowering herself to her knees, sitting back on her heels as she looked at him. "Did you do what I asked?"

He was surprised to find that her voice sounded strong, that she wasn't nervous. "You mean your note to _Natania_?" he said skeptically. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because I wasn't born yesterday."

Arat sighed a little, and now she looked around to all of them. "I get it. You don't trust me."

"Damn right we don't trust you," Rosita murmured, her arms folded as she circled her and then came to a stop a few paces behind her, blocking her most immediate exit.

"What can I do to earn your trust?"

He hadn't brought a gun with him, not wanting to risk being caught with it, and so he picked up hers and pointed it at her. "Start talking."

"What do you want to know?" she asked impatiently.

"Start with _Negan_ ," he ordered, he too impatient now. "How are you with him? _Why_ are you with him?"

At this request Arat took pause, seemingly collecting her thoughts before addressing them all as she spoke. "He did to me what he was doing with Daryl. He confronted my group, killed someone I love, and he took me to the Sanctuary. They treated me like shit. They tortured me," she added, lifting the back of her shirt and showing something to Rosita who stood behind her. "But when I said I was Negan it stopped. They let me live with the workers. I was surviving."

"What happened?"

"I'm sure Lana told you," she said softly, her eyes darting around. "Is she here?"

"What happened?"

"Some shit went down with Simon. My group fought back, so he responded by killing most of them. When I found out what he did I completely lost it, Negan had to lock me up again. They left me in that cell for _weeks_ ," she emphasised, trying to garner a reaction of sympathy. "The only reason they didn't forget about me was Lana, but she got fucked over too because of what she did."

"What did she do?"

"She didn't tell you?"

"I want to hear it from you."

Arat was silent before looking into her lap. "I asked her to do it. She snuck out and told my people about a place she knew would be safe. She told them where the Saviours kept some supplies, and she helped them get away."

"How did that fuck her over?"

"My people took more than they should have, and the Saviours noticed. Negan suspected her, and her points had been in credit for months. This made it worse."

"That doesn't explain how you came to be this," he said roughly, gesturing to her. It wasn't a question he asked for his own curiosity, he couldn't care less about what happened to her, but there were others who deserved an explanation for the things Arat had done.

"A few weeks after he married Lana, Negan let me out of the cell. He let me shower in his bathroom, brought me clean clothes and food…and then he said he was sorry for what Simon did. Said he didn't give the order, but he took responsibility and asked me to forgive him. So I did."

A flurry of discord swept among those present, Rosita taking a small step forward in disdain. "You forgave that monster? For killing your people?"

"You don't get it," Arat said forcefully, looking at Rosita over her shoulder. "What they were doing to me, leaving me in that cell…I was going to die there. I was literally living in my own shit and piss for weeks. Then Negan took me out, told me everything was going to be different. So yeah, I forgave him," she repeated, turning back to Rick. "I forgave Simon too. I had no where else to go."

"And then?" he asked expectantly, still feeling no sympathy for her.

"Negan and I struck a deal. I offered to marry him, but I think he pitied me too much. He said he wouldn't look for my family if I worked for him. Said I could start as one of his soldiers and then work for a promotion, maybe one day run my own outpost. What was I supposed to do?"

"You never tried to escape or to find your people?"

"I couldn't go back to them. Not after everything that happened."

"Weren't they your family?"

Again Arat lowered her gaze into her lap, but to her credit she explained. "The first time Negan attacked us, he made me chose who he would kill…he made me chose one of my own people. So no, I couldn't go back to my family. Not after that."

In the darkness behind him Rick heard a muffled sound, but a stern glance over his shoulder quietened it almost immediately. Keeping the conversation moving he turned back to Arat, clicking his fingers at her until she looked up. "You're one of Negan's best soldiers. Each time you came to Alexandria, you were in charge. Why shouldn't I stick a knife in your throat right now?"

"I'm trying to make this right," she said firmly, looking him in the eye.

"You killed an innocent person," he reminded her. "Olivia. I can't just pretend that didn't happen."

She looked up at him in outrage, turning to the others and seeking their support. "Negan told me to kill someone," she argued. "You were there, those were his exact words. What was I supposed to do? Say no? Say that I couldn't, because I planned on defecting?"

"So you shoot someone at random?" Michonne berated her.

"No. I chose that woman. I chose an adult, not a kid, and I chose someone I knew wasn't a fighter. I'm sorry," she said imperatively. "Can you at least agree that if I hadn't killed her I wouldn't be able to help you now?"

Lingering on this thought for a moment, Rick took the time to consider the truthfulness of what she was saying. Everything she had told them matched the version of events Lana had provided, but putting his faith in Arat would be to risk everything. He was wary of trusting her, and rightfully so. How did he know for sure that Negan hadn't dispatched her to lure them into a trap?

"I'm going to need proof."

"Of what?"

"Proof that you're willing to help us. That you're not going to screw us over. What do you have?"

"What do you want?"

"The location of your outposts."

She didn't hesitate. "Gavin runs an outpost in Ammendale. It was a chemical plant. From there it's a straight shot into the city, that's where they run the Kingdom from."

"Something else."

"There's a satellite station in Locust Grove, about eighteen miles from the Hilltop. Paula runs that outpost."

Though the information was good, Rick shook his head impatiently. "I need something I can verify right now. How long can you stay out tonight?"

"I've got first watch," she said reluctantly. "I start at five o'clock…was hoping to get some sleep?"

"Give me something I can verify right now. Something that proves you're not going to screw me over."

Arat sighed impatiently, looking fed up with the whole thing. "It's about a mile from here. It's a warehouse with supplies that we keep close to the Sanctuary just in case something happens. It's where we keep the Fat Lady."

"Come again?"

"The Fat Lady," she repeated. "It's a truck fitted out with stadium speakers. We use her to reroute the herds, we get a lot 'round here. The Fat Lady sings, and she draws them away from the Sanctuary."

"Is it guarded right now?"

"No."

"How do we get there?"

"Take a right three blocks down, it's a warehouse about a mile away. You can't miss it, it's the only one on the road. I can take you there right now."

"Stay down," he said sternly, seeing her beginning to rise. Instead he glanced at Michonne, giving her a short nod. She left without a word, taking on the risky task of verifying what Arat had just told them, and he trusted that she would take Sasha or Aaron with her.

"You can't make a move on the Fat Lady," Arat warned them apprehensively. "You can't make a move on anything right now."

"We're not," he said shortly. "How often do your people go to this warehouse?"

"We barely use it unless we have a tricky herd coming our way."

Not completely reassured, Rick kept the conversation going while they waited, needing more information than he had learned so far. "What's Negan doing now?"

"What do you think?" she asked skeptically. "He's spent the last three days searching for Carrie and Daryl, and when he's not searching for them he's making life at the Sanctuary miserable. He's fucking pissed right now."

"He's still looking?"

Arat paused, considering her answer. "We just called it off, which is why he's so pissed. Are they okay?" she asked in concern. "Carrie and Daryl?"

"We're still looking for them," he lied, unwilling to risk their safety. "What do you propose we do?"

Arat furrowed her brow. "Me?"

"Yeah, you," he said forcefully. "You want to help us? You want me to guarantee your freedom when this is over? Freedom you don't deserve?" he added. "We're going to need a hell of a lot from you first."

To everyone's surprise Arat boldly got to her feet now, wincing as she rubbed her knees before straightening up. "You need to lay low for a couple of weeks. Let a few tributes go by, give us plenty of shit."

Rosita scoffed impatiently, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's your solution? Lay low?"

"The Kingdom has been laying low for well over a year, and Negan doesn't give them a second thought," she argued, glancing at Dianne. "All of this shit needs to settle down and start running smoothly. You want Negan to turn his attention to screwing his wives and not screwing you."

"That won't work for us. I'm not waiting this out, I'm not rolling over for him."

"You have to," she insisted. "And not just because you're seriously under equipped to take them on. The first Thursday of every month is the outpost meeting. All of the leaders come to the Sanctuary for the weekend. You need to attack the outposts and the Sanctuary all at once, while all of the leaders are in one place"

"Who are the leaders?"

"Simon, Regina, Gavin, Paula…and by next month, me too."

Rick paused at this, glancing to Rosita and Dianne. "You're one of the outpost leaders?"

"I will be soon. Once shit settles I'm telling Negan I want Alexandria, and I know he'll give it to me. He's already setting me up for it, that's why I was in charge there every time we came."

"Why you?"

"Because he still owes me for what Simon did to my people. I take on Alexandria, and the day to day decisions of running you guys falls to me. Simon will be breathing down my neck, but I can at least make sure he doesn't get some shit for brains idea. He and Negan don't see eye to eye lately…especially about Carrie."

Feeling his hackles raised at the mere mention of her, Rick took a step forward. "How so?"

"Simon seems to have a heavier hand where she's concerned. He always thought she had it too good at the Sanctuary, that Negan gave her too much free reign. Negan on the other hand was a little gentler. I think he liked her."

This notion wasn't one that he hadn't considered before. Carl had relayed a great deal of information to them about the Sanctuary, in particular Carrie's living conditions and her seemingly familial relationship with Negan. There was nothing dishonourable about it, but he had noticed the way she seemed to stand up to him, the way she argued back about some things. Whatever had happened, somehow Carrie had managed to gain a small element of Negan's trust and affection.

"Tell me more about this meeting," he instructed. The notion of taking on the Sanctuary and all the outposts at once wasn't new to him, but the monthly meeting was.

"It's always the same. Same day each month, the leaders bring a group with them and they stay the whole weekend. They talk business, they talk trash, there's a games tournament, everyone gets drunk and has a good time. It's what your kid interrupted the other day."

"Keep going."

She floundered a little now, feeling the pressure of his repeated requests for information. "If you get it right, none of the outposts will be able to help each other, you can take them out. The Sanctuary will be harder to take by force…the only way I see is to trap us there long enough that we have to surrender. I'll be there too. I can tell Negan that we should stand down."

"And if he won't?"

"Then I can…I can try to kill him. But I'd have to kill Simon too…we'd have to kill all of the outpost leaders if they refuse to surrender. The last thing you need is to take out Negan, but have someone like Simon take over. He would be worse."

"And after?" Rosita prompted, unsatisfied with her plan. "Say we kill Negan and the leaders. Say everyone surrenders. Then what?"

"What do you mean? When they surrender it's over."

"And you? What about you?"

Arat stared at each of them, having thought the answer was obvious. "All I want is to go…that's all."

Deciding not to respond, he returned to the workbench and took a seat as he checked his watch. Michonne had been gone barely ten minutes, she would need more time than that. "Make yourself comfortable. We're in for a wait."

"Can you level with me here?" Arat said impatiently. "Are Carrie and Daryl okay or not?"

He refused to respond to this either, ignoring her when she repeated the question. To his satisfaction she seemed to leave it alone, and instead of pressing him for more information she slowly sank back down to the floor. Preparing for a wait she pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her elbows on them, not trying to make small talk or anything.

As they waited Rick leant against one of the work benches, arms folded across his chest as he tried to think. It was painfully tempting to go rushing to Carrie right now, to wake her up in the middle of the night, sleep be damned. Arat said they had stopped searching, this was the very thing he had been waiting for. Though he knew Carrie and Daryl were both safe, part of him was still not yet ready to believe it. He wouldn't feel at ease until he had seen for himself that they were both safe.

Knowing that it would only be a few short hours until he could see them he tried to keep his mind focused on the situation at hand, dwelling on what Arat had told them. She had given them a great deal to think about, particularly so for how best to attack the Sanctuary. Her recommendation was to wait, to lay low and let Negan fall into a false sense of security…but would Negan ever let his guard down? Could they even afford to wait until the next outpost meeting away? How many incidents would there be between now and then? How many more of his people would have to die while they waiting for the right moment?

It was almost thirty minutes before Michonne returned, thirty minutes that passed without so much as a single word uttered. She came through the front door, the bell chiming as her shadow danced over the walls, and then she appeared in the threshold. It wasn't necessary for them to ask for the verdict, for seeing she was unharmed and seemingly satisfied was all Rick needed to see. The information Arat had given them was accurate…she could be trusted.

"Tell me more about Negan," he requested, addressing her. "What's he doing right now?"

Relieved to be on track again, Arat slowly got back to her feet. "He's exhausted, he's probably going to lay low for a while. He's been searching everywhere for Carrie and Daryl, even places they're not supposed to go."

"The Kingdom?" Dianne asked in concern, speaking for the first time that night.

Arat nodded. "Gavin confronted Ezekiel on Saturday, their usual tribute day. Nothing happened," she added, seeing Dianne's worry. "Ezekiel denied knowing Alexandria, and said that if anyone trespassed on his territory for a search party it could be considered a declaration of war."

"They didn't search the Kingdom?"

"No," she confirmed. "Gavin's not one for confrontation, especially not with Negan or Ezekiel. He told Negan that he and I took a small group into the Kingdom and looked around, but that we couldn't find her."

"But you didn't?" Dianne clarified. "You didn't go in?"

"No," Arat insisted. "Like I said, Ezekiel wouldn't allow it. Is that where th-"

"Get back to Negan," Rick cut her off, satisfied that Carrie and Daryl were still safe. "What's he doing now?"

"I told you. He's called off the search, and he's laying low."

"It doesn't sound like him to give up."

"He doesn't give up, but he knows when to say enough. Besides, he's had more than a little encouragement from his wives to let them go. At the end of the day, if Carrie's safe then that's enough for him."

Rick laughed, unable to help it. "It's enough for him that she's safe?"

"This has really upset him," Arat argued. "He's worried about her."

"Bullshit!"

"He is! He's been out there looking for her himself, and he never does that, not even when Lana left. But Carrie…he's really torn up about this."

"And I'm supposed to believe that he's just going to let her go? That he's not going to look for Daryl?"

Arat seemed to lose her patience, and she crossed her arms as she looked down at the floor, trying to steady herself. "I don't know what else to fucking tell you," she said in frustration. "He called off the search. If we happened to find Daryl we'd take him back, but he's willing to let Carrie go free. He was bringing her home last weekend anyway."

There was a moment of tension now, Arat having raised her voice and asserted herself for the first time that night. Everyone in the room seemed to teeter on a knife's edge, holding their breath as they waited for Rick's reaction to her assertiveness, but she continued before he could say anything.

"Look, I'm presuming you have them somewhere safe. I think your next move should be to go to Negan and confess. Apologise for what Carrie did, and ask for his forgiveness."

A laugh of disbelief swept among those present, Rick included. "Do you think I'm stupid enough to do that?"

"He'd respect you for it," Arat insisted. "He'd see it as transparency, like when you gave him that rifle the other week. You didn't have to do that, and he liked it. Apologise for what happened, ask for forgiveness, and then tell him you want to get on with things."

"With the tributes?" Rosita clarified.

"Yes. Tell him you're going to give him some good shit this week, and then make sure you do. Get it from the Kingdom if you have to," she continued, addressing Dianne. "I know you guys have crap stashed all around the city."

Rick too knew of the Kingdom's extensive supplies, having already received a considerable amount from them last week. They had it to spare, and it was in their best interests too that Alexandria's tribute meetings went well.

"Do you think you can keep Daryl hidden until next month?" Arat asked.

"Let's say we could."

"Then you should tell Negan that he died. Say he got bit trying to protect Carrie from the dead. He'd like that. And then play on the baby thing. Tell Negan that it came already, or that she's in labour, anything. Just talk about the baby."

"That's it?" Rick questioned, annoyed with her advice. "That's all you have to say?"

Arat looked at him incredulously, firing up again. "What about what you have to say? I've shown you that I'm willing to burn them. I've proven that, don't you think? I've told you what to do next. Now what are you going to do for me?"

"For you?"

"Yes, for me! I asked you to contact my family. Are you doing to do it or not?"

Rick held his breath now, glancing around to Rosita, Dianne and Michonne to gauge their thoughts. Unlike him they seemed generally satisfied, each giving him a short nod of approval, and so it was in their judgement that he placed his trust. Seeing that there was nothing left to discuss he stepped away and then looked into the darkness behind himself. "You can come out now," he murmured.

Lana was the first to step into the light, revealing to Arat that she had been there the entire time, listening to every word said. They had seen one another the morning that the Saviours came to search Alexandria, Arat having volunteered to search the sewers. At the Sanctuary they had been friends and watched out for one another, Lana having sacrificed her own personal freedom in order to help Arat's family. But the next moment Cyndie too stepped out of the shadows, and in that instant Arat's face visibly fell.

She didn't know what to say or do, her hands clenching into fists as she automatically took a step back. Completely unprepared for Cyndie to be there she seemed hesitant, her shoulders tense as if expecting her own family to lunge at her, to attack. But it seemed what happened in the past didn't matter to Cyndie, for she was coming forward as if not a day had passed. Her voice was choked up when she spoke Arat's name, her eyes brimming with tears as they embraced, though it took a few moments for Arat to return the embrace.

As they held one another after such painful separation Rick made his way past them, joining the others on the far side of the room. "What do you think?"

"I don't know," Michonne murmured, her eyes still cast on Arat with great suspicion. "I don't want to trust any of them."

"Me either," he acknowledged. "Apologising to Negan?"

"We might have to," Dianne pressed, though she sounded uncomfortable with what she was saying. "Arat's right, Negan would respect it. The Kingdom's done it before…long story."

"You confessed to something and that made it better?"

At this Dianne hesitated. "Better is subjective…but none of us were killed over it."

Watching as Arat and Lana hugged next, Rick glanced at his watch. "We've got time. What happened?"

"We were hiding how many doctors we really had. The Saviours sent in a spy, there was a whole uproar and confrontation…but we told the truth and asked for forgiveness."

"And then?"

"He forced Will to start visiting the outposts every two weeks for adjustments, but that's it. Like Arat said, Negan doesn't think twice about the Kingdom."

"If we're bringing them a war, that's what we want," Rosita murmured, mulling it over. "Fly under the radar, let him drop his guard."

Trying to collect his thoughts, Rick looked back around to Arat, wishing that things were black and white. Her advice and Dianne's experience alone was not enough to reassure him of what to do next, for Negan could react in any number of ways. He could kill one of them, he could insist on seeing Carrie and follow him home, bringing chaos to Alexandria once again. Or, he could do none of those things. Maybe Negan would let it go, just like Arat said he would…nothing would surprise Rick anymore.

* * *

Stifling a yawn with the back of his hand Rick slowly stepped out of the car and looked towards the imposing facade of the Sanctuary, keeping his hands out of his pockets and ready to raise in surrender. Despite having had ample opportunity to sleep in the hours that passed between their meeting with Arat and now he hadn't found any rest, too wired up and apprehensive to close his eyes. In the hours that elapsed since their meeting they had agonised over their next move, struggling to decide between leaving well enough alone, and risking a kick to the hornet's nest. Shut their mouths and hope for the best, or clear the air?

As the sun rose the urgency to make a decision only grew, the dawn a reminder that finally they could go to the Kingdom, finally they could see Carrie and Daryl. But if they were going to do this it had to be now…they couldn't put it off. Arat's information so far had been on point, she hadn't led them astray, and Dianne tentatively agreed that a confession in the name of clearing the air might be a good move. Presuming Negan had been allowed enough time to cool his temper, this could be over and done with in as little as five minutes…they had to try.

By his side were Sasha, Michonne and Rosita, while safely in hiding a few miles back were Aaron, Dianne, Lana and Cyndie. As prepared as they could be they set off down the road, walking at a slow pace to make clear that they were not here for a confrontation. They were closing in on the Sanctuary when the first shot was fired, a round hitting the road ten yards or so ahead of them, but they were not afraid. This was what happened the night he arrived begging to take Carrie home, and he knew what the expectation was. Raising their hands the group slowed to a stop, and then they waited with bated breath for someone to meet them.

All was silent here at the Sanctuary, only the distant sounds of Walkers greeting them, but a few moments later there came the sound of running footsteps on gravel. It was Dwight arriving on footstep, Daryl's crossbow raised and ready to fire should one of them step a single toe out of line.

"Turn around, and go," he said loudly, slowing down as he closed in on them. "You're not welcome here."

Standing his ground, Rick kept his arms raised as he shook his head. "I want to see Negan."

"Turn around, and go."

Again Rick shook his head. "I want to see Negan."

Dwight looked at them incredulously, his finger moving to the trigger as he started threatening them again, but his trailed off as his radio sounded. It was indistinguishable to them at a distance, but whatever was said made him take pause. Standing there he glared at them a moment, the tension palpable before he slowly lowered one hand to the radio in his pocket.

"Copy that," he answered, swiftly bringing his hand back to support the crossbow. "You going to do exactly what I tell you?"

"Yes, we are."

"Good," he snarled, his upper lip curling as he moved his finger back to the trigger guard. "Keep your hands up. Walk one step at a time. Let's go."

While Dwight walking backwards and never taking his eyes off them Rick and the others did exactly as instructed, moving one step at a time and slowly making their way closer to the Sanctuary. Having the time and the daylight now he took the opportunity to look up at the Sanctuary, taking in features he hadn't been able to notice during the night. The factory building was exactly as Lana had described to them, but there were no words to describe the abject feeling of misery and hopelessness the place exuded. The closer they grew the worse the smell of the dead became, and when they arrived they could see them there strung up against the fences, chained to concrete blocks. It seemed they were more for decoration than actual protection, for they hadn't stopped Rick approaching on foot today or the other night, and nor had they prevented Carrie and Daryl escaping the other day.

Emerging from inside the building was Arat, but none of them gave her anything other than a cursory glance. "Spread out," she barked at them, pointing her rifle in their direction. "Hurry up, spread out."

She and Dwight fell into place alongside one another, murmuring something as Rick, Michonne, Sasha and Rosita did exactly as asked.

"Okay, move forward now," Arat instructed next, using her hand to usher them closer. "Forward…forward…stop."

Still standing there with their hands raised they waited, Rick trying to breathe through his mouth as the smell of the dead became worse. He hadn't remembered it being this bad last time, though he supposed the daylight made it all the most pungent. Arat and Dwight lingered close for a few more moments, discussing something before he slung the crossbow over his shoulder and came forward. With Arat covering him he came to Rick first, clicking his fingers at him impatiently.

"Hands behind your head. Legs apart."

Doing as he instructed he allowed Dwight to come forward and pat him down, not commenting when he was disarmed of his knife and machete. But to his relief Dwight tossed them back down the road they had come, ensuring that they would be able to retrieve them as they departed. Once satisfied he moved on to Michonne and the others, and as he waited Rick kept looking around. There wasn't really much to see, for the place overall seemed deserted, but sitting on the fire escape two flights up was a Saviour with a rifle in hand, most likely the one who had seen them coming first and had fired.

"Put your hands down, and come forward," Arat shouted at them again, still holding them at gunpoint. "Slowly. Keep going…keep going…stop."

Silence fell once again, and then Rick knew they were in for a wait. The night he had come here for Carrie he had been kept waiting for over twenty minutes before they came out, and he had prepared for another wait of similar length. That morning Negan kept them waiting again, but this time only five minutes passed before the door at the top of the stairs opened and he emerged, for perhaps like him he simply wanted to get this over with.

"Rick!" he said unhappily, leaning Lucille against the yellow railing and gripping the top of it. "What did I say about you coming here uninvited?"

He braced himself, preparing his act of contrition. "Negan, I-"

"I told you to fuck off, not come for breakfast."

"I'm here about Carrie."

Negan's shoulders visibly tensed, Rick able to see it even from a distance. "What about her?"

He glanced to his left at the others, delaying his answer in a moment of doubt, but he continued. "She made it home yesterday. She's safe."

Holding his breath he awaited Negan's reaction, holding his gaze and watching him closely. But for the longest time Negan simply stared at him, hands clenched around the top of the yellow railing, and then finally he did something. Without saying a word he picked up Lucille and brought her up to his shoulder, and then he turned and made his way towards the stairs. As if trying to instil a growing sense of dread he walked slower than necessary, taking his time on each step, and all the while he held Rick's gaze. Having reached the ground level he was slowly crossing the yard, brow furrowed as he stared him down every step of the way.

"Daryl's dead. He got bit the first night they were on the road…he was protecting her from Walkers."

Ten yards away Negan came to a stop, standing still with Lucille against his shoulder while he continued holding Rick's gaze. He gave no discernible reaction to the news of Daryl's apparent death, his lack of facial expression unnerving him as was the likely intention. For a few moments there was an uncomfortable stand off, Rick waiting for Negan to do something, to say something.

"They ran out of gas, so she stayed outside the city a few nights on her own. Yesterday she found a car and drove home. That's it…that's all that happened."

Negan moved forward, taking two steps at first and then a third as if an afterthought. He titled his head as he stared at him, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, but still he said nothing. Not too proud to admit that he was scared, for one swing of that bat would mean the end of him, Rick resisted the impulse to step back. For all his doubts and concerns he had to put some faith into Arat…if he didn't, then he was working blind to Negan, holding little information as to what he might be thinking or doing right now and in the coming weeks. Closer to him now, he noted that Negan looked like hell, that his face was pale and there were shadows beneath his eyes.

"I'm sorry for what happened," he said emphatically, showing contrition in his voice. "But it's done. It can't be undone."

"Kneel," Negan said lowly, his voice so soft Rick almost didn't hear him.

He hesitated, knowing he couldn't do that. "No."

Negan's eyes flashed with annoyance. "No?"

"I want to settle things with you," he said gently, raising one hand in front of himself as if asking Negan to hear him out. "I want things to go back to normal…the new normal. We can make this work."

"Can you, Rick?" he asked softly, tilting his head as he took another step forward. "Can you make this work?"

"Yes. I've got people out on supply runs…we're putting together a tribute for Thursday, just like you wanted."

Finally a change seemed to come over Negan, but it was one of outrage. "A tribute?" he angrily questioned, his upper lip curling in disapproval. "You think a tribute makes up for what that bitch has put me through?"

"Neg-"

"I've barely slept a wink since we found her gone!" he shouted. "I've been worried fucking sick!"

"I'm sorry."

"You think a tribute makes up for her killing two of my people? No, Rick, a tribute doesn't make up for shit!" His tone of voice escalating, Negan backed up a few steps and started pacing, lowering Lucille from his shoulder and swinging her by his side. "You're gonna fucking pay for this. I want your fucking blood."

"I can't give you that," he said gently, his heart pounding uncomfortably hard. "But I can give you smooth sailing from now on. We will run like clockwork. I will make sure this arrangement works."

"Arrangement?"

"We give you our shit, and you don't kill us. That's what you've wanted all along. I want that too."

"I don't want that anymore," Negan growled, still pacing back and forth like a caged animal. "I want blood for what she took from me. Are you denying me that?"

Rick held his tongue, refusing to let himself speak his mind. Instead he played the part Arat had given him, focusing on making sure things got back on track so that the whole thing blew over. "There can't be anymore killing from either side. We need to just get on with it."

Still Negan was unappeased. To everyone's surprise he suddenly tossed Lucille aside, the bat rolling away in the dirt as he turned on his heel and advanced towards Rick. Bracing himself, his heart faltered as Negan closed in on him, but the painful blow to the face came at a relief in many ways. He grunted in shock as he fell to the ground, his head jerked back and side of his mouth burning in pain, but it was only a punch. On the ground he gasped for breath, running his tongue along the inside of his teeth to make sure they were all still there.

"Get up!" Negan snarled, looking over him. "Get up and face me you piss weak asshole."

Glancing at the others he was relieved to find them still in place, glad that like him they could see this was going as well as they could have hoped for. Doing as instructed he got back to his feet again, lowering his hand from his mouth as he straightened up and faced Negan, already knowing what was coming next.

"That one was for Fat Joey," Negan snarled, advancing on him again. "This one's for Laura."

Negan hit him again in the same spot, harder this time, and there was no way he could even try staying on his feet. Like before he fell to the ground, gasping for breath as his jaw hurt and blood filled his mouth. It took him a little longer to get back up this time, a fact that Negan seemed to enjoy.

"Is that it?" Negan pestered him. "Do you think we're done here?"

"Yes," he said quietly, lowering his hand from his face again. As he rose he looked up at him apprehensively, seeing that his eyes were wild with excitement now that he was inflicting his punishment.

"Wrong answer!" he shouted in delight, laughing as he turned around to look at those watching on from the upper windows and watch points. "Don't tell me you forgot about Daryl."

His heart sank when he saw Negan drawing a gun from his holster, and in a moment of panic he risked looking at Arat, appealing to her. Had they been stupid to trust her?

"Don't do this," he said forcefully, watching as he pointed the gun from Michonne, Rosita and then to Sasha. "No more. Let's just get on with it."

"But she took my Daryl!" he exclaimed, bringing the gun to Rick now. He stared at him for a long moment, mouth pressed into a thin line as he moved his finger to the trigger. "I'm gonna be missing him for a long time."

"Killing me will only make thi-"

Negan seized him by the front of his shirt, his face twisted into a cruel snarl. "I fucking trusted that bitch, and she pulls this shit on me?" he growled, pulling Rick close to him. "I treated her like a mother fucking Queen!"

Rick held his tongue and endured it, one hand clutching Negan's wrist, unable to ignore the instinct to protect himself. Their foreheads were pressed against one another, Negan refusing to release him and Rick unable to back down, to show submission. He could feel the muzzle of the gun pressed against his lower belly, his beating heart reminding him of what was at stake, that he wouldn't survive a point blank gunshot to the stomach. Negan's eyes were menacing…malicious…he wanted to do harm.

"Get the fuck out!" he roared, roughly shoving him away. "Don't ever show your fucking face here again!"

Rick stumbled a little, automatically reaching up to protect himself, but when Negan turned around to pick up Lucille he and the others quickly began to retreat. They collected their weapons from the ground and backed away, Negan following them every step. He swung Lucille through the air as if taking a practice shot, imitating the motion he would have liked to make against Rick's head.

"I hope that baby rips her from ass to clit," he bellowed, brandishing the bat at them. "May she never have a day of fucking peace!"

"Let's go," Michonne said urgently, sheathing her katana.

"I better be fucking impressed by your tribute on Thursday!" Negan continued ranting, following them even as Dwight hastened to catch up, trying to talk him down. "You hear me, Rick? Impress me, or you can swallow my dick for real this time!"

Not saying anything in response Rick took his success where he could get it, unable to fathom that they were making it out of this unharmed. As they put greater distance between themselves and the Sanctuary he looked over his shoulder, having noticed that Sasha had fallen back a little. Arat had followed them, and was presently berating her at gunpoint, wearing that familiar scowl of discontent.

"Come back here again, I dare you," Arat shouted, giving Sasha a rough shove towards them. "We could use the extra prisoners!"

Finally reaching their car they all hastened inside, breathing an incredible sigh of relief when they were all safe, the doors slamming shut. Negan was still standing down the driveway, watching them go, and Rosita did not delay starting the engine. That had gone as well as it possibly could, and right now there was only one place for them to go. The Kingdom.

"Did Arat say something to you?" he asked Sasha, suddenly realising that he was panting for breath.

Sasha nodded, she too taking a moment to collect herself. She faltered a moment, bracing herself against the car door as Rosita took a sharp turn at considerable speed, and her eyes widened as she sought out the seatbelt. "She said, same time and place next week."

* * *

A/N Next chapter Rick finally makes it to the Kingdom, and….a Negan point of view as he makes an important confrontation!

Realistically I should have had Negan's point of voice 2-3 chapters ago (when the Saviours discovered the escape), but it the scene I wrote wasn't any good. Hopefully it has improved, and you guys like it.

I hope you enjoyed the peak into Arat's future as double agent - please do leave a review!


	62. Chapter 62

A/N So, the Negan POV in this chapter is split over two time periods, one a flashback to the morning Carrie escaped, and one from the present after Rick's most recent visit to the Sanctuary. Sorry for the time warp, but the first section wasn't finished until this week, and I didn't want to scrap it entirely.

Funnily enough, I wrote the Negan sections to the new Ariana Grande album - go figure. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

For the first time since their escape, Carrie awoke in the morning without Daryl there beside her. Despite her frequent trips to the bathroom keeping her in a state of semi-consciousness, somehow he had managed to slip away undetected. It felt strange for her to awaken alone, and she wondered if he was simply in the bathroom until she noticed that the sheets on his side of the bed were cold, that he had been gone for some time. Sitting up she took a good look around the room, seeing that his boots and coat were gone.

Feeling strange without him there she hauled herself out of bed and dressed, eager to find him and reconnect. She didn't like not knowing where he was, part of her paranoid that he might be getting himself into trouble, or that something might be wrong. It was still dark outside, yet this did not deter her, and after stopping by his usual cigarette spots and the cafeteria she made her way to the next best bet, the watch posts. That's where he had been yesterday afternoon, sitting up on one of the posts to watch the world go by. The task of keeping watch was familiar to him, perhaps the only familiar task he could undertake right now. To her relief she found him on the watch post at the main gates, glad to find that he wasn't up there alone.

Kept company by Daniel, he was comfortably seated on a stool with his feet resting on the top of the wall. Clearly not tasked with the responsibility of actually keeping watch, most of his attention was focused on the cup of coffee he held in hand, but even from down on the ground Carrie could see the way he was biting his thumb nail again. Nevertheless she was glad to see that he had ventured out without her encouragement, and that he wasn't alone.

"Hey," she called out, waiting expectantly until he and Daniel looked down. "You could have left me a note. I was worried."

Daryl murmured something, but repeated himself when he realised it was too soft. "Couldn't find a pen."

She quirked her eyebrows, for not only did she keep a notepad and pen on her nightstand, Jerry had given them both a notebook and the task of writing down bits and pieces they remembered from the Sanctuary. Names and places, the layout of the interior, the roads in and out. Even if it was information they already possessed, they had been tasked with writing it down.

"Did you eat yet?"

He shook his head, but lifted his mug a little.

"The kitchen sends breakfast in about an hour," Daniel called out, reassuring her. "Usually toast, but sometimes fruit too. Oatmeal, if it's on the menu."

Carrie nodded gratefully, giving him a small smile. Nevertheless she wasn't quite satisfied, and having given Daryl a thorough once over she began unwinding the scarf from around her neck. She bundled it up into a tight ball and got his attention before throwing it up to him. He caught it with ease, but didn't look happy about it.

"You need this mo-"

"Don't," she said sternly, cutting him off. She started backing up, leaving him no choice but to keep it. "You throw that back down here I can't reach the ground to pick it up. Wear it."

"Can't. Ain't had my _cooties_ shot," he yelled out as she walked away.

Leaving him be for now she managed a smile, glad that he was cracking a joke. Trusting that Daniel wouldn't keep him out in the cold for too long she turned up the collar of her jacket, looking forward to when the baby was born and she would be able to zip it up at the front. Awake and needing to occupy herself she made her way back to the cafeteria again, the early hour meaning that the breakfast service was only just starting. Refusing everyone's offers to let her cut to the front she waited in line, happily making small talk with the residents who she knew only by sight, but who knew much about her. As usual everyone was nice and welcoming to her, yet she opted to take her breakfast to go, wanting to go home…to her new home, anyway.

Upon her return she didn't allow herself to get comfortable in Daryl's room, and instead went into her own and settled into the newly delivered rocking chair. As she ate her generous serving of oatmeal and fruit she sipped at her tea, observing what felt like a monumental task ahead of her. She was coming to terms with the reality that her baby wouldn't occupy the nursery she had made for him back in Alexandria, and that she would have to go through the whole process a second time around.

Yesterday Chloe and Dina had taken her to some of the Kingdom's many storage rooms, the three of them leisurely looking around and selecting the supplies she would need to prepare for her baby. The stockpile was abundant, the Kingdom's supply runners having had free reign of the entire city from early on in the outbreak, so while things like fresh food and clean water were rationed, there was less demand for things such as baby bouncers and diapers. She had everything she needed, and all had been delivered right into her room but left unsorted at her request. If she couldn't do it with Rick, then this was a task for her to undertake alone.

As she continued eating her breakfast she thought about the day ahead of her, keeping track of how she intended to pass the time. She would have an appointment with Brea later in the afternoon in which they would be talking about the impending birth, in particular who would and would not be there. Frankly, it was a conversation Carrie had been dreading, and she had already postponed the appointment to today. Until everything was upheaved she had been certain of how things were going to go with the birth, not ever anticipating that Rick might not be there with her.

There had been no doubt in her mind that he wouldn't be the stereotype of inept fathers who were tasked with boiling water and fetching towels, for even though he too was nervous she knew he would be fine. He would be her rock throughout labour, holding her hand every step of the way and attending to her every whim. She had even suggested he be the one to deliver the baby were he brave enough, and though he had initially balked at the idea she could tell he was intrigued by the possibility.

But now they were supposed to prepare a different plan, one in which Daryl would be taking his place. She loved Daryl wholeheartedly, confident that he would be able to support her and offer comfort, that he could pull it together for her…but he wasn't the one she wanted. The more she thought about this as she looked around the room the lonelier she started to feel. She wanted Rick and their family back…she missed Carl, she needed Judy…

At this thought she pulled herself to her feet, finding the motivation to get started on her first task. One way or another, eventually Rick, Carl and Judy were going to be here, and she wanted to ensure they were coming into a place that felt like home, not just a room that had been allocated to them. It was fine for her to share with Daryl while she needed to, she knew he didn't mind, but this room needed to become something comfortable for her family.

Before getting started the surveyed the supplies, running her hand over her newly cut hair and tucking it behind her ears. Cut just above her shoulders it was the way she wore it in the old days, and she couldn't help but relish the change. Having not received a cut since almost this time last year it had become too long and unkempt, the shorter style not only returning her to her old self in a way, but preempting the tiny baby hands she knew would be grabbing at it in the near future. Now when she looked at herself in the mirror she felt her heart jolt, still recognising old self after all the ways the world had changed her.

Starting with the bassinet she moved it into the corner by the bed, choosing an interior wall where it would be less draughty and away from the door. It wasn't like the beautiful wooden crib they had at home, but nonetheless it was suitable for what she needed, and Chloe had talked her into the merits. She could keep it by the bed at night, and it was easy to pack up and move at a moment's notice, a necessity these days. Taking her time she put a mattress protector and some sheets on the mattress, while the white blanket she had brought with her from home, to the Sanctuary and then to the Kingdom was draped over the end. Despite her efforts she got some of Laura's blood on it during her escape, but just like her pink jacket all traces had been removed with some careful laundering. In the corner of the bassinet she placed the Gremblygunk she had purchased from Gloria, wondering how she was doing right now. She and Amber were one of the last people seen with her…had they suffered any consequences?

Trying not to think about the Sanctuary she turned her attention to the brand new stroller, glad that it had been taken out of the box and set it up for her. It came with a bassinet and interchangeable car seat, and she set them both by the door ready for their first outing, clipping on some colourful toys. In the far corner was a plastic change table on wheels, and just like she had at home she went through the motions of stocking it with creams, wipes and disposable diapers. Fully intending to save precious resources she had asked for some cloth diapers, at first not understanding why Chloe and Dina had laughed it off before showing her to another store room. There she found hundreds of boxes of disposable diapers piled up to the ceiling, the room almost entirely filled but for the small gaps that separated the sizes.

"Costco, Amazon and Walmart," Dina said, showing her through. "We got so many supplies from bulk warehouses we don't even have enough room to store it all. Half of it's still sitting in trucks outside the walls."

"Your intentions are good, but you're not in Alexandria anymore," Chloe reminded her, passing her a box of Huggies. "We don't have enough water to wash cloth diapers as well as regular laundry."

"We should be keeping the diapers rather than putting them in the trash," Dina mused, grabbing a box of the next size up. "Surely someone knows how to build a catapult, right?"

Despite her disappointment Carrie looked down at the box, endeared by the perfect baby pictured on the front. "I'd love to see the Saviours dodging diapers."

Having emptied the box of diapers she set it aside to be repurposed, knowing Judith would happily play with it. Still keeping busy she went to the classroom cupboards that used to house stationery, and after wiping down the shelves she began setting out her abundance of baby clothes. She laid them out on her belly to fold, taking great care to ensure everything was perfectly arranged, though she suspected the pristine organisation would be short lived once the baby came. Just as she had done at home she marvelled over the clothes, removing tags and making sure they were clean before putting them away.

Grateful that the room was so big she split it up into distinct areas, keeping baby furniture and decor in one area. Elsewhere she was making room for Judith, for surely Rick would bring her here when it was safe. She would need space for her toys, a place to keep her books and CDs. Still trying to find places for everything she set an array of stuff onto the bed and observed it all, wondering where she was going to find room. There was a battery operated rocking swing, a baby wrap that Chloe swore by, rattles and assorted toys, crib mobiles, a complicated looking breast pump, a radio for white noise…all the same things she had at home, but for the life of her she couldn't remember how she found space for it all.

Having passed barely an hour of time she gave up on trying to keep herself occupied, exhausted though it wasn't even eight o'clock in the morning. Her hips and lower back ached with every step she took, the weight of her belly feeling even more burdensome than usual, and by now she had learned when to call it quits. Leaving the remainder of the baby stuff to sort through later she sank down onto the couch, giving a weary moan of relief as she pulled a blanket over top of herself. She hardly slept last night, exhausted from the constant need the pee and the baby whose smallest movements kept her awake. Meanwhile Daryl slept soundly beside her, aided by sleeping pills once again…not that he didn't deserve a good night of sleep.

The last few weeks she had finally begun to understand why Maggie complained of feeling like a beached whale. She had barely reached her due date of mid March, but now that the stress of being held captive at the Sanctuary was receding the complaints of being nine months pregnant felt like something she could gripe about again. She couldn't reach her boots to take them off, and Rick's gun in her leg holster was pressing into her thigh, but the effort of correcting those problems was too great.

She shivered underneath the blanket, despite being fully clothed. Maybe it was a men thing, but Rick was always so warm it made cuddling up to him like sleeping next to a furnace, and Daryl was the same. At this thought she tried to remember if Logan had been like that, if she made a point of snuggling up to him on the cold Manhattan nights. Rick never seemed to mind that she cuddled up to him for warmth, particularly when he usually did the same. Despite always being warm he often complained of the cold, more accustomed to the hot summers in Georgia.

It felt like she barely got any rest before the sound of the door opening roused her, the soft turn of the knob sounding louder than it really was. It felt like she was dreaming, her body and mind torn between waking and sleeping, and it was the latter she desired. But it wasn't to be, for Daryl's less than dulcet voice was interrupting her sleep without any kindness.

"You awake?" he asked, coming into the room and loudly closing the door.

"No," she mumbled, wondering what the hell his problem was. "Go away."

She heard his scoff at her, and a moment later there was a thud as he nudged the couch where she lay. "Come up, get up," he ordered, pulling back the blanket. "You got somewhere to be."

"Wha' the hell, Daryl," she moaned, feeling impatient and crabby. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, furious that he was disturbing her. All she wanted was to get some rest.

Unperturbed by her less than receptive welcome he tossed her denim jacket towards her, looking more jolly than she had seen him in a long time. A strange feeling came over her, and before she asked she got an inkling that she knew what this was about. There was little for them to be excited about right now, and there was one thing in particular they'd been looking forward to. Slowly sitting up she held his gaze, fumbling to get the sleeves of her jacket in the right way before pulling it on.

"Is it them?" she asked tentatively, not ready to be disappointed. "Rick?"

He nodded shortly, his mouth twisting into a strained smile. "They're almost 'ere."

Cursing under her breath Carrie slowly pulled herself to her feet, feeling shellshocked by this news. It shouldn't be a surprise, they suspected Rick was only waiting for the Saviours to give up the search, and judging by what the watch had seen yesterday that had already happened. But still it seemed too good to be true, almost like she didn't yet deserve such happiness and relief. It felt like she still had to earn it, that there were more dues to be paid…but they were really here?

"Are you sure?"

He nodded again, unwinding the scarf from his neck and tossing it around hers instead. Without any more delay he ushered her to go, and suddenly her hips and back weren't aching quite as much. Though she ought to be walking as quickly as she damn well could, for some reason she was dragging her feet, her pace little faster than a leisurely stroll, and she could tell Daryl was confused by her behaviour. She said nothing though, still trying to process the sudden news. It didn't seem real, it felt like a trick, similar to the way it felt when they were finally free of the Sanctuary.

Outside the Kingdom was in full swing already, people going about their usual morning routine, but it was apparent that word had spread quickly. There was a keen sense of excitement in the air, people staring and pointing at her and Daryl more than usual. Ahead of them Ezekiel and Jerry were stepping out of the auditorium and rushing to join them, the King warmly putting his hand on her shoulder as he said something to her…she couldn't quite hear what.

When they got to the Kingdom's main entrance the gates were already open, the sound of an approaching vehicle making Carrie's chest tighten with emotion. For days she had prepared herself for this moment, she had been determined not to blubber like a baby, but already tears were welling up in her eyes. Rick wasn't even there yet but she wanted to scream his name, to call out and bring to him the same comfort she felt in that moment. As that thought occurred to her a car slowly made its way through the gates, followed swiftly by another, and as she hastened over to them she looked back and forth trying to see him. His name was already forming on her tongue, but she could barely take a breath let alone call it out.

Before she was really prepared she saw him, his image materialising before her very eyes as he stepped out of the second car. He was looking around for her, lingering near the car as others also got out, Michonne, Lana, Dianne…Carrie spared them no attention, though in time she would be overjoyed to see them. She could barely fathom that it was really happening, that Rick was actually there. Even as he turned and looked in her direction she felt it must all be a dream, that the life they had made together was only a fantasy.

"Rick!"

When he saw her she felt the breath return to her body, realising that she had been holding it, that her entire being had been on hold. He stood there frozen as he looked at her, his eyes wide and lips parted around words he couldn't say, and perhaps he too was struggling with the notion that this was actually happening. As he managed to collect himself he started towards her, neither running nor delaying, ignoring all others but her. In that brief moment she looked him up and down, worried for him. It felt like it had been years since she had seen him and yet he hadn't changed. He was exactly the man she had left behind, just a little more weary and heavy hearted. As could be expected he looked tired and haggard, his clothes hanging off him as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.

"I came as soon as I could."

It was the first thing he said, and the words felt like an apology, a request for forgiveness. Without warning a gasp of sheer, unadulterated joy burst from her mouth, and she was beaming as they reached one another. When they embraced it was not a dramatic crash into one another's arms, but an embrace they'd shared hundreds of times before, maybe even thousands. Everything felt like it fell perfectly into place, that the entire world was set right again as she put her arms around him, holding her body close to his.

There was silence as they held one another, the world external to them ceasing to exist as she relished every moment. She clutched him tightly, feeling his body beneath her hands, her belly pressed up against his. Everything was just as she remembered, so wonderfully familiar. The scratch of his beard against her cheek, the tentative touch of his fingers against her belly…with every moment the burden of despair was lifted from her shoulders, because finally they had made it to this moment. It was over. It was finally over.

Her shoulders quaked as she cried without shame, clenching her hands into the fabric of his coat and pulling him more tightly against her. The other night at the Sanctuary she had been the one being strong for him, had hidden her anguish so that she could make him go, but she didn't need to do that now. She wanted to wail in relief, to fall to her knees and bring him down with her so that she didn't ever have to let him go.

With a strained breath Rick pulled away, hand caressing her cheek as they tearfully looked at one another, holding eye contact until they naturally leaned in. They shared a gentle kiss, her closed eyes allowing her to pretend for just a moment that this was any other day, that this was any other kiss. It was a kiss as normal as any other that they had shared, but one that meant so much more after all they had lost and suffered through. He was talking to her again, soft words of comfort and reassurance, and through his strength she returned his words of affirmation.

"It's going to be okay now," he murmured, kissing her again. "It's over…you won't ever have to go back there."

"I know…I know," she replied, still holding him. She reached up around his neck, fingers trailing through his hair as she held him close. "Just, don't go."

Struck by an irrational fright she moved closer to him again, putting her head on his shoulder as her free hand clenched his shirt. She was terrified that if she let go of him he would disappear forever, that something might happen and she would never get him back again, but he seemed to understand. He too did the same thing, content to hold her close as if she was the only thing tethering him to this earth.

"Is the baby okay?"

She nodded against his shoulder, turning her head so that she could look down between them. Taking his hand from around her waist she moved it down to the front of her belly, pressing hard so he could feel the baby's back.

"The baby's perfect," she said, taking care to watch her pronouns, to protect him from what Carson had done to her. "I feel like it's coming soon…"

"I'll be here," he stated, giving a shaky breath as his lips nuzzled the top of her head. "I won't miss it, I swear."

Feeling strengthened by the mention of their baby she slowly pulled back a little, coaxing him to let her go enough that she could see him. For a few moments she simply looked at him, sharing the moment and appreciating his tears of emotion, that he too was overcome.

"What happened?" she murmured, reaching up and lightly touching her fingers to the redness in the corner of his mouth. His jaw was hot and swollen to the touch, but it seemed not to be bothering him.

"I confronted Negan," was his answer, his tone a tentative apology. "I wanted him to stop looking for you, and he has."

"He did that to you?"

He nodded his head, but didn't seem concerned. "It's over now," he reminded her. "You're safe. Both of you."

She smiled, this notion feeling out of place yet so desperately needed. "I know."

There was a few moments of silence now, she and Rick lingering there holding hands. She stopped crying now, wiping her cheeks as she looked around at the others. Her heart warmed at the sight of her group there, but particularly so for Lana whose apparent death she had grieved. Yet there she was as clear as day, standing by Daryl's side as he and Aaron exchanged a hug. She looked over at Carrie and raised her hand in a small wave, not wanting to intrude quite yet, and Carrie smiled as she returned the gesture.

Clearing her throat she looked down at her side, and taking great care she unsnapped the clasp on her new holster and took Rick's gun in hand. Touching his arm to get his attention she showed it to him, his heart soaring the moment he saw it in her hands, realising what it was.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I took it from Fat Joey when we escaped…couldn't leave it behind."

He reached down to take it from her, and though she doubted he had given it much thought in light of everything else going on, she could tell having it back meant a lot to him. His Colt was as much a part of him as anything else, this idea reinforced by the fact he was still wearing his empty holster. For a few moments he simply looked it over, running his fingertips over the wooden grips before opening the barrel and looking at the six rounds she had loaded.

"You were planning this all along, weren't you?" he murmured, looking up at her. "That's why you made me go home that night?"

She nodded, putting her hand on his arm. "Negan was bringing me back, I really believe he was…but I wouldn't leave Daryl there. Not without trying first."

At this he looked away, lowering his gaze back to his Colt as he let out a shaky breath. As he slipped it back into its rightful place in his holster he looked over at Daryl, managing a genuine smile at the sight of his friend and brother safe.

"Thank you," he murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead. He held them there a moment, his hand stroking her hair. "Thank you for making it out of there."

"I love you," was all she could manage in reply, wishing she had the breath to say that to him a million times over. She tiled her face up, bringing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. "I love you so much."

"Love you too."

Lingering there a few moments longer they embraced agin, not yet ready to let go. For a few happy minutes there was peace, nothing other than the two of them, but as it always did the rest of the world slowly made it's way back into the forefront of their mind. Already preparing herself for the answer, for she knew the potential cost for their family, Carrie asked the question she both dreaded and eagerly anticipated.

"We're going to fight them, aren't we," she said, phrasing this as a statement, not a question.

"I don't see any other way," he replied, murmuring these words under his breath. "Do you?"

She shook her head, having already reached this determination on her own. "No, I don't."

There was going to be a hell of a lot for them to talk about over the coming days, but especially so if they were going to war against Negan and the Saviours. She had learned so much about Negan and the Sanctuary over the last ten days, and now that information was going to be priceless for them as they prepared to go to war, fighting for their freedom to live without the rule of the Saviours.

"All of us, together," she began confidently. "We can take them down. Negan has no idea what he's started."

Stroking her hair behind her ear Rick kissed her again, just lightly. "Everything's going to be okay…we're going to make it."

* * *

Last Saturday morning

Already painfully aware that he was in quite a state, Negan slowly managed to turn onto his back, noting from the soft leather that he had passed out on the couch. As he roused his hand naturally reached for his dick, holding it a few moments like a toddler who needed reassurance that it was still there. Hangover notwithstanding, it was always a disappointment to wake up alone when he had a prime selection of bedfellows who ought to be keeping him company. More disappointing was waking up with a raging hard on and no one to ride it for him, but even if he was in the mood he was too hung over for that. Hell, he couldn't even be bothered taking care of it himself.

With one hand holding his dick the other reached for something else, his second dick some would say. Lucille was safely set on the coffee table beside him, and he vaguely recalled asking whoever had put him to bed to set her down there. When he had a big night on the drink he left her here in the room, giving her pride of place on the mantle where she would be safe from any shenanigans, but he has asked for her last night. In a moment of embarrassment he suspected that at the time of asking he was looking for an entirely different Lucille…these days his late wife was pushed as far away from his thoughts as he could get her, but she always popped back up one way or another.

He should have known that opening his eyes would be a mistake, for some fuckwit had left the drapes open and the light made it feel like his brain was bleeding. Good Lord, he never meant to do any harm, he just wanted a good time with his people. They deserved to let loose, they deserved the fun of plying him with shot after shot just to see him get messed up. The only thing that had stopped him partying the night away was Regina, his designated Sober Sally tasked with making sure he went to bed on time. He couldn't be hungover the morning he was taking Carrie home to Alexandria, but judging by his state he ought'a fire her ass for gross incompetence.

There was no telling what the time was, but if none of his people had crept in to rouse him there was no need to rush. Taking it slow he sat up on the couch and put his feet to the floor, dragging his toes through the soft rug as a way of grounding himself, reminding his head which way was up. Wallowing in self-pity he sat there a while with his head in his hands, eventually reaching out for the supplies Regina had left on the coffee table. A glass of water, some pills, and a shot of tequila, the best and only way to treat a hang over.

It felt like his eyes were too big for his skull, like they were bulging out of their sockets, and then he snorted in derision as he thought of that poor Asian fucker Lucille had words with. But the snort made his head hurt even more, compelling him to reach out and drink the shot, fumbling and trying not to spill it. Still trying not to open his eyes too much he staggered to his feet, taking a few moments to orient himself again before stumbling across the room. His bed was empty just as he knew it would be, no beautiful woman in negligee spread out with the goods on show, but hell…right now he wouldn't know what to do with a woman if she was there.

In his private bathroom he turned on the tap and stuck his head underneath, groaning in exaltation as the cool water soothed him body and soul. His mouth tasted like a Rotter took a shit in it, and he wearily brushed his teeth and looked forlornly at his shower. The cold water would be a blessing rather than a curse. All he needed was a shit, shower and shave, not to mention a damn good puke, but once his mouth was clean and his thoughts a little less murky he left the bathroom. His body felt like it didn't belong to him, his limbs heavy and burdensome as he left his room and made his way up the hallway, and it was only when he shivered that he realised he was barefoot. His wives had seen him in far lesser states, but he normally would have made a little more effort given he was going to see Carrie.

"G'morning, Ladies," he said as he entered their quarters. He tried to sound lighthearted and jovial, but that proved just as difficult as fully opening his eyes. But when he didn't hear much in response to his greeting he went to the effort of opening them properly, looking around in dissatisfaction. "I said good fuckin' morning."

Sherry, Bridget and Amber were the only ones awake, but when they repeated their reply it was with the new level of ice he had come to expect in recent days. They were all avoiding eye contact, averting their faces and looking into their cups of coffee or plate of breakfast, and it was disappointing. He had been hoping that they would come around now that he was taking Carrie home, that they would be happy, but it seemed they still hadn't forgiven him for what happened the other day in Carson's office. Like before, there was not an ass, titty or kitty in sight for him.

Helping himself to some food from the breakfast cart he reminded himself that things would go back to normal once Pregosaurus Rex was Rick's problem once more. Part of him wanted to punish his wives for withholding sex, to retaliate by withholding their luxuries and creature comforts, for after all that's why they were there. He wasn't holding a gun to their heads. They gave him the comforts only a woman could give, and he gave them shit that made them happy. It had been a fair trade, but they weren't holding up their end of the agreement. But he was willing to wait, hoping that when they eventually came around it would be a special night. Hell, maybe they'd let him do two or three of them at once…it was a damn shame he only had one dick to go around.

"Is she outta bed yet?" he asked, licking bacon grease off his fingers. When no one answered his question he repeated it with a bite of impatience, their continuing rejection of him soothed by the taste of the ice cold beer he took from their mini fridge.

"I don't know," Sherry said shortly, not even polite enough to look up.

Muttering under his breath he trudged to the hallway and stopped at her bedroom door, knocking loudly before taking a large sip of his beer. When there was no answer he knocked again, and then tentatively he opened the door. He held his breath, expecting to find her curled up in bed like the other morning when he came barging in, the morning after she had that charley horse cramp during the night. It made his shudder on the inside to think about that, recalling the sheer horror of hearing her screams from his bedroom, though in hindsight it was Amber's shrill hysteria that awoke him.

Perhaps it was that night he started feeling a little more warmly towards Carrie. It was nice to feel needed by a woman for something other than luxuries. For the first time in a while someone had looked at him in relief, had been grateful for his presence there. He knew all too well the excruciating agony of a cramped muscle, particularly one that came on without any warning. The way she looked at him when he was taking her pain away…for once she had seen someone other than a monster who had killed her friends, but someone who was helping her. It was just a shame that the moment was only fleeting, that as soon as it all passed they went back to who they really were. Captor and prisoner.

When he entered her room that morning he let out the breath he had been holding, and he frowned instead. The bed was neatly made, her yellow bag and baby stuff set out on top of the comforter…damn woman hadn't even packed her shit. A quick inspection revealed most of her clothes still in the drawers, her toiletries and vitamins still set out on the shelf near her bed. Scratching the back of his head he wearily made his way across the hall and into the bathroom opposite, not concerned about privacy. On evenings before a night spent with all of them he liked to come in here and interrupt, enjoying the sight of them doing their hair and make up, sometimes clad in only their underwear. They usually squealed in displeasure, laughing and throwing slippers at him until he retreated…but he got no such playful reception that morning. Jade was standing at the sink brushing her teeth, and when she noticed him coming in she quickly averted her eyes.

"You in here, Carrie?"

His call was met with silence, and wanting to be sure she wasn't just ignoring him he made his way further inside, seeing for himself that the two toilet stalls were empty. Confused, he looked to Jade and asked where Carrie was, perturbed by the way she shrugged and quickly made her way past him. She had barely spat out the toothpaste, yet she couldn't get the hell outta there fast enough. He followed her out in confusion, getting the feeling that she and the others were withholding something from him, and not just sex.

"So where the hell is she?" he asked expectantly, shuffling back into the living room. "She eat yet?"

Again he got little response, Sherry, Bridge and Amber continuing to avoid eye contact. He scrutinised them suspiciously, watching the way Amber looked to Sherry, her eyes wide with concern. He knew that look well, and he knew the look that Sherry sent back to her. Something wasn't right, but they were closing ranks and shutting him out.

All the information he needed was right at hand, and yet he couldn't make sense of it. His thoughts were impotent, his hungover brain struggling to connect the dots, to figure this shit out. Standing on the spot he looked back over his shoulder through the open door to Carrie's bedroom, sipping his beer as he looked at her neatly made bed. Perhaps she had gone downstairs to see Dixon, not an unusual place to be given her dedication to him.

In an instant it clicked. A coldness swept through his body, hands faltering and allowing the bottle of beer to fall to the ground and spill. Carrie hadn't risen early and promptly made her bed…her bed hadn't been slept in.

Negan looked back at his wives, mouth open around the words that wouldn't compute. Amber looked at him guiltily before turning away, shrinking towards Sherry as they all awaited the explosion that was sure to come, but in his horror he couldn't manage it. Instead he did the only thing that would compute, and he lunged for the door and made a run for it. He was sprinting down the corridors and flying down the staircases, too panicked to even grab Lucille, but there was nothing she could do for him. The Sanctuary had yet to start coming to life, and the few people he passed in the halls looked at him in bewilderment, their faces alarmed as they too realised something was wrong.

 _No, no, no…she couldn't have._

He was running faster than he ever had in his life, faster even than those early days when he fled the hospital ravaged by hoards of dead. He knew what had happened, for there was only one possibility. Carrie wasn't sick, she hadn't been taken home early because labor started. Drunk or not, his people would have woken him for anything to do with her, especially if they ran the risk of her delivering that baby here at the Sanctuary. She had done something…it was the only explanation.

As he sprinted down Rape Alley he encountered Simon emerging from his guest room with radio in hand, having heard that a commotion of some kind was going down with the Sanctuary's leader. With his unkempt hair making him look even more deranged than usual he dumbly asked what was going on, gaping at Negan before he gave chase, following him down into the lowest level of the Sanctuary, the basement.

"Dixon!" he roared, throwing himself against the cell door that belonged to him. "You better fuckin' be in there, Dixon!"

Seizing the handle he rattled the door again and again, determined to wrench it open, to tear it clean from the hinges. His rage only grew when his shouts were met with silence, no one on the other side of the door giving any kind of response. The only response he got was from Simon who had caught up to him, fumbling with both his keys and radio.

"Open this damn fucker!" he shouted, pointing at it unnecessarily. "Open it!"

When Simon was too slow he lunged at the door again, determined to tear the damn thing down himself. Every kick rattled the lock, every wrench stoking his explosive rage until finally someone pushed him away. He was bellowing unintelligibly, startling others who like Arat and Paula who were arriving on scene, but the moment the cell door was unlocked and open he fell silent.

The smell of blood hit him hard, rendering him mute with shock as he staggered away. In horror he looked down at the body laying among the blood soaked rags, feeling bile rising in his throat. He barely recognised her, all he could see was blood and mutilated flesh, but he knew it was Laura. Glimpses of blonde hair, the unmistakable tattoo on her neck, one of the few patches of unblemished flesh. Someone had butchered her, a feat of strength and viciousness that he knew Dixon was not capable of right now. Carrie Grimes on the other hand…

"She's still stiff," Simon said bluntly, having touched Laura's hand. He lingered by her side a moment, silent as he grasped her hand.

"She's been dead for hours," concluded Paula, coming closer to get a look for herself. "We-"

"Then we're hours behind them," Simon growled, getting to his feet and looking round at them all. "Get your people together, arm yourselves to the teeth with all the shit you can carry. We're on the road in ten minutes."

"She's been dead for hours," Paula said loudly, grabbing Simon by the arm as he moved past her. "We've already lost them."

Not to his surprise an argument broke out, Paula and Simon butting heads about the strategy already. Still in a state of bewilderment Negan turned and watched them, their argument serving as yet another reminder of the fact that they needed him as their leader. His lieutenants couldn't lead these people out of a paper bag without him guiding them, whispering instructions into their ears. Behind them stood Arat, arms folded across her chest as she tried to hold herself together. She was staring into the cell where Laura's corpse lay, frozen in shock…but she would get her shit together if he had anything to say about it. There was only one thing to fucking do right now…

Enraged by the sheer incompetence of his own people who had allowed this to happen he started down the corridor, shoving between Paula and Simon with such brute force that their argument stopped in an instant. He needed Lucille in his hands, he couldn't think straight without her, but for now there was only one thing they could do.

"Get your people together," he bellowed, wanting the entire fucking Sanctuary to hear. "We're gonna pay Rick fucking Grimes a visit he won't forget."

* * *

Tuesday evening

Enjoying the luxury of hot water, Negan stood under the slow flowing water of his shower, letting it fall over his face and shoulders. He had slept the entire day, having popped a couple of the pills the good Doc gave him, and they had truly knocked him the fuck out. Or perhaps it was the whiskey he had chased the pills with, he didn't care which. All he knew was that he needed a damn good sleep, and there was no fucking way he was going to get that after the visit fucking Rick Grimes had just paid him.

After sleeping the entire day he was in a strange sense of limbo, both well rested and bone tired. Though it was six o'clock at night he was keyed up as if starting the day afresh, his body clock and sense of time completely fucked after days and nights spent searching for the escapees all over the damn city.

He didn't care to understand why, but he couldn't help but feel like a heartbroken teenager. The escape of his prisoners left him with a God fucking awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was a distinct sense of loss that was about more than grief and anger towards the deaths of two Saviours, but it was fucking pathetic. There were good soldiers before Dixon came along and there would be more after him, while Carrie Grimes had never been his to lose. Besides, he was always going to take her home, particularly given how much he regretted bringing her to the Sanctuary in the first place. But this rationalisation seemed to make no difference to the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He should have expected it…he should have seen it coming a mile away. Carrie had rejected him, had risked her life to flee on her own terms and take Dixon with her. In his bitter moments he hoped she was wracked with remorse and guilt, that she blamed herself for Dixon's death. It wasn't exaggeration when he said he hoped that baby ripped her from ass to clit, though in hindsight perhaps it was a little over the top. After all, why had he expected any different from her? He was the one who drove her to do this. What they did to her that day in Carson's office had destroyed any trust or rapport she might have held for him. It was him she called out to first, him she begged for help…and he had let her suffer as means to an end.

Still, it felt like he had lost something more than two Saviours, like he had lost a friend. It didn't matter that Carrie was there under duress, he had been enjoying her company. He liked talking to her, looked forward to the afternoon meetings in which she would join him in his room. It started out awkward and uncomfortable, but after a little encouragement she had finally become more loquacious, telling him not only about her daily activities here in the Sanctuary, but her life in Alexandria. Her company had been surprisingly enjoyable, and he found himself looking forward to seeing her each day, to talking and getting to know her. It wasn't anything particularly deep, and nor was his interest in her fuelled by a desire to sleep with her, not that he would have turned her down were she amenable.

It was this kind of thought he had to avoid. The picture of them together, her in his bed because she wanted to be. No baby in her belly, no wedding ring on her finger to complicate things. He liked thinking about that, imagining what she was like when the clothes came off and the lights were dimmed. He wondered if she enjoyed sex, if she'd prefer making love or being fucked. Perhaps in another world things would have been different and he would get answers to the intimate questions like this…fuck, it was incredible just to think about her this way. Rick had no fucking idea how lucky he was that he was the one sticking it to her every night.

It was something that had occupied his thoughts in recent days, particularly given his bed was noticeably empty of companionship. When he jerked himself off he imagined it was Carrie's hand on his dick, her pretty pink lips taking care of him, and he would have done anything in the world to make her happy there on her knees. He was bluntly opposed to the idea of knocking up his actual wives, always taking care to ensure he wrapped his dick every time, but with Carrie it could have been different. Had he been the one to find her on the side of the road everything would have been different. It would be him fucking her every night, him putting a baby in her, doing whatever it took to make her happy.

But Negan knew that his fantasy was never going to become a reality, and that the only reason she was so appealing to him was the fact that he couldn't have her. Carrie wanted nothing to do with him, and even if he wasn't who he was she was married, she was having a baby to someone else…but these things only made him want her more. He always wanted what he should have, he'd been that way his entire life. It was a bitter pill to swallow that he wasn't going to have that kind of life with her, or anyone for that matter. In this new world he had chosen a different path, one that hundreds of people depended on him to keep…he wouldn't throw that away just for a woman who didn't even want him.

Before he knew it all the water was gone, the pressure slowing until there was nothing more than a pathetic dribble. He might have a sweet ass bathroom, but his water supply was only a tank built into the wall, and he had used his share, generous though it may be. Once again he was left wanting more, his dick included. Christ, all he wanted that night was a drink and a warm, wet hole to stick his dick in. None of his wives would even look at him, and he supposed he had upset them when he trashed Carrie's room that morning after Rick's visit. There was no doubt in his mind that they were in on it somehow, whether they had actively helped her escape or had just concealed her absence, it didn't matter which. He couldn't punish them, especially not if he ever wanted to get back into their panties. Until such time there were no other women for him to spend the night with, for he'd never liked the idea of hitting on Arat, he was her boss after all, while Paula and Regina had already returned to their respective outposts.

Hanging up his towel he returned to his bedroom, but he was annoyed to find that at least one of his high ranking lieutenants had not returned to their outpost. Simon was sitting in one of the armchairs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he waited for him to come out. It didn't bother him that he was naked, he couldn't care less, his mere presence was what annoyed him.

Ignoring him for now he went to his bureau and began to dress, choosing a comfortable pair of sweatpants and teeshirt. It was early in the evening and so he was turning in for the night, all he needed to do was radio down for someone to bring him dinner. After days out in the cold and rain searching for Carrie he needed a quiet night in, but even that had lost its usual appeal. A quiet night in was usually spent with his wives, sprawled out on their couch watching a DVD, someone draped across his lap so he could cop a feel. A quiet night alone with himself had far less appeal.

"What are you doing here?" he finally asked, putting on a pair of socks.

As he waited for him to respond he looked at Simon from the corner of his eye, wondering if like everyone else he was going to be tiptoeing around him. No one wanted to invite his ire right now, leaving everyone walking around on egg shells. Their trepidation was more infuriating than any faux pas they might commit.

"I paid our dear friend Gregory another visit," Simon answered, sitting back in his chair now that Negan had dressed. "Wrapping up loose ends now that we know where Carrie is. He was most generous with his gift giving," he added, gesturing to the coffee table. "A box of twelve year old scotch."

More from politeness than actual interest, Negan crossed the room to join his righthand man, and he peered down at the new crystal decanter filled with that beautiful amber liquid. The decanter itself was intricate and accented with gold, matching the four whiskey glasses and tray that made the set. It was over the top, something you'd see on the desk of a Bond villain, so perhaps in some ways it was fitting for him.

"Well, thank you," he murmured, taking a seat opposite him. Removing the stopper he poured a small amount into a glass and then passed it to Simon, a smirk of amusement growing on both their faces. There was the widely understood rule that food or drink given to Negan had to be taste tested, and it had turned into a running joke of sorts where Simon was concerned. As usual Simon took the small taste without complaint and drank it.

"How's it taste?"

"Like twelve year old window cleaner," he complained, setting the used glass back onto the crystal tray.

Adequately satisfied, Negan poured a glass of window cleaner for himself and then took one of the empty glasses to his bar cart. There he selected Simon's preferred bottle of gin and poured a serving, but he felt his mood darkening when he noticed the ice bucket on his cart had been restocked. A prisoner must have been brought in while he was showering, and it made him think of Dixon. Begrudgingly he put some ice into each glass, wishing he could put Dixon out of his mind. Had Carrie not done what she did by now he would be living comfortably in his new quarters, learning the ropes and getting to know his new way of life. But instead he was worm chow, at least if Rick was to be believed. Either way, it was a damn waste of a perfectly good soldier.

"To Laura," he toasted, passing Simon his gin. "And to Fat Joey."

"Here's to them."

Having shared the toast they each downed their first drink, but Negan barely registered the taste of the whiskey. He didn't particularly care for it that night, not that it stopped him pouring each of them a second drink. What good was a toast if it wasn't followed up with a second? This time he sipped at the whiskey, taking a moment to think about his late Saviours. Bad enough that Carrie had taken down Laura, she just had to take Fat Joey down too. They had both been buried during Negan's absence as he searched for her, and he reminded himself to take a walk beyond the Sanctuary in order to pay his respects to them. He had always considered Laura to be a good woman, a genuine loss to the world. And Fat Joey, well…well, he was fun to have around.

"So, how is our dear friend Gregory?"

"Still falling all over himself to distance the Hilltop from Alexandria. We tossed the place again for good measure, just to keep 'em on their toes."

"Same story as before?"

Simon nodded. "Didn't see hide nor hair of Carrie…no one from Alexandria for that matter. Hilltop is running smoothly. I took a painting from his office, just to make sure he doesn't think about getting too big for his boots."

"A painting?"

"Some guy on a horse. I don't think it's to your taste."

Agreeing with that he nodded his head, sipping at his scotch again. He'd not been to Barrington House, and had no desire to, but what he had heard of the place did intrigue him somewhat.

"You know what I thought you'd like that would go nicely in here?" Simon said brightly, sounding like he was trying to cheer him up. "That morse code picture at Rick's place. Pride of place in his dining room."

Negan didn't respond, annoyed that Simon was bringing _him_ up.

"I could bring it back here for you. It would go nicely with your decor."

Taking a drink Negan brought his foot up onto the opposite knee, leaning back into the leather couch with a deep sigh. "You're not overseeing Alexandria."

There was a brief pause now, Simon's brow furrowing. "You think it's a good idea for you to go back there?"

"I'm sending Arat."

"Ah, I see," Simon murmured, sitting forward as his interest was piqued. "Finally her time to step up, is it? I'll have her bring the picture back then? Bringing back something for the boss would be a confidence boost for her first week running the joint. She takes well to that kind of feedback." There was another pause now, Simon holding his breath until he continued. "Shall I have her bring it back?"

"I'll supervise her first tribute in Alexandria. Not you."

At this Simon hesitated, again holding his breath. Waiting for him to say something else Negan scrutinised him, practically able to see the wheels turning in his head as he considered what he was going to say. He knew Simon well, and he could see straight through him. Already he could see what was going to be said next, he knew exactly where this conversation was headed. More importantly, he knew his response to the incoming suggestions.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? You and Rick in the same place…why don't I handle it?"

Exactly what he knew Simon would say. "I'd like to get one last kick in," he said bluntly, ensuring the topic was left at that. Finished with his drink he set it down on the coffee table, and when he sat back in the couch he draped his arm over the side, his fingers touching the top of Lucille's handle. He stroked the ridge at the very bottom, reminding himself that it was about time he removed her barbed wire and gave her a thorough clean and oil. His girl deserved only the best.

"Did everyone get away alright?"

"They did," Simon assured him. "Regina, Gavin and Paula, all back at their outposts safe and sound. I sent my people back home too."

"But not you," he commented.

"Not me. Thought I'd stay another night," he said lightly. "Make sure things really are copacetic."

"Between you and me?"

This comment made Simon falter. It was only for a split second, but Negan saw it. "Have we got beef?"

"None that I know of."

"None that I know of either."

"Yet."

This addition gave way to another pause, telling Simon that there was indeed something wrong. He seemed to brace himself, sipping the last of his gin before sitting up straight, looking for all intents an attentive employee. "What's on your mind?"

He had hoped to have this conversation at a later time, but opportunity trumped. "It's not what's on my mind that concerns me," Negan replied smoothly. "It's what's on your mind."

"My mind?"

Negan nodded, hiding his bite of impatience. If Simon danced around this topic it would only infuriate him…just out with it. They both knew where this conversation was heading, they both knew why he was really there. Just as he knew he would Simon slowly nodded, indicating that there was indeed something on his mind to be concerned about.

"Alright," Simon concerned, looking down at the floor as he straightened his thoughts. When he was ready to speak he raised his head again, looking Negan in the eye. "It won't deny that our next move has been weighing on me. We cannot leave things with Rick Grimes having the last word. We can't let them think this is the way things work now."

When Negan didn't comment or offer his own thoughts Simon took that as his cue to keep going, and as he spoke it became clear that he really was getting something off his mind.

"They come back at us, and we just take it to keep the peace? No. It goes the other way around. They are the ones who bend over to keep the peace. We need to make sure that they know it, that they know their place."

"What are you proposing?"

"We know Rick…we know her. They don't have any heads on the chopping block right now, no reason to take this shit lying down. They're going to fight us, and we need to strike first. I'm talking _nuclear_ action. Straight to the top."

"The top?"

"Rick," he said bluntly. "We should take him out. We've got enough resource here that we could take those kids in, and Carson told me the good news. A bouncing baby boy? We could use him for the gene pool. Carl will make a good soldier if he's got two siblings to look out for. Won't take much to break him."

"And Carrie?" he questioned, holding back his true feelings for what Simon was proposing. "What's your plan for her?"

"We play it by ear, but we do what's necessary," he said slowly, softening his tone. "We've got baby formula. There's no need to keep Carrie Grimes around. You could even raise those kids as yours if you wanted…they'd never know the difference."

A long silence ensued, and with each passing moment a palpable tension grew and grew. Negan wanted him to keep going, for his words and ideas to keep backing himself into a corner, but it wasn't necessary. Simon had already said exactly what he expected him too, he had already gone too far. That was the problem with Simon. Time and time again he ruined his own hard work by going too far.

But even if he could tolerate letting Simon needlessly kill people and risk insurgency from Alexandria, Negan knew that wasn't the only reason he couldn't let Rick Grimes go down. It was there in the back of his mind, regardless of how hard he was trying to avoid thinking about it. No matter what happened from now on he didn't want to see Carrie hurt, not in anyway way, shape or form. Was it so much to ask that she be allowed some happiness? Killing her husband and taking her children away? Taking her baby? What Simon was proposing was unacceptable in more ways than one, and it was up to Negan to make sure this shit didn't happen to her.

Reaching out he picked up he crystal decanter, holding it in his hands as though studying it. Simon was waiting with bated breath, braced for Negan's feedback, for the verdict on his plan. As he evaluated the weight of the decanter in his hand he looked up at his right hand man, remembering the day he returned triumphantly boasting that he had shot down a group's insurgency with his so called nuclear action. There had been no remorse, there had been no regret…at least not until Negan had his say.

Taking a firm grip on the neck of the decanter he slammed it against the corner of the coffee table, the earsplitting crash making Simon lurch in his sheet. As the crystal shattered so too did the tempered glass of the coffee table, alcohol and glasses tumbling down and bouncing across the carpet while Simon sat there like the lump of shit he was.

Stepping over the broken glass Negan lunged at him, shoving him back into the chair before bringing up the broken decanter. There was a struggle until he pinned him down, and when he felt the broken shards of crystal pressed against his neck he became still, frozen in place as he looked up. Hands wrapped tight around each of Negan's wrists he breathed heavily, eyes darting back and forth from his face to the crystal as he awaited his fate, but he was not afraid.

It was tempting to just kill him, to shove those shards a little harder into his neck, because Simon just didn't get it. None of them understood what he said about Carrie, that the boundaries set for her had not changed even after what she had done. She was not a tool to be used, not under any circumstances.

"I think you're backsliding," he whispered darkly, pressing the shards harder into Simon's neck. He started to bleed, small patches of red appearing on his skin, but Negan did not let up. "You're fucking backslidin', aren't you Simon?"

Staring up at him, Simon held his shit together admirably. "Last time you accused me of backsliding, you ended up taking my side," he reminded him, his voice wavering only a little. "Need I remind you, that it worked perfectly."

"What we did to Carrie?" he questioned, still ashamed of what he had allowed to take place in Carson's office. "That's why we're in this position…that's why she ran. We crossed a mother fucking line, and you're talking about crossing it again."

"This is what we do," Simon argued, faltering now as he tried to recoil further away, but there was nowhere for him to go. "This is the only way to teach them."

"You're talking about taking away a newborn baby. That is not what we fucking do."

"Fine, she comes here too, but we have to teach them how it is! They're going to fight us Negan. You know it."

Negan shook his head, dragging the broken crystal a few inches down Simon's neck. Blood erupted from what was admittedly just a shallow scratch, and it was most satisfying to see Simon flinching, to see fear in his eyes. He held onto the moment a little longer, wanting to really drive it home, and then slowly he lowered his face even closer, whispering to him.

"You ever say something like that again, I will kill you slow… _one hit at a time_. Nothing happens to her, or that family. You hear me Simon?" he growled before taking a deep breath. "Nothing!"

Simon lurched when Negan bellowed that last word at him, flinching as yet more blood was drawn, but he held it together. "I understand."

Mostly satisfied, Negan held him a moment longer before slowly releasing him. Pulling off the broken decanter he drew back and allowed Simon to find his feet, still not caring that he was walking over broken glass in only a pair of socks. Though he was bleeding profusely Simon made no effort to stem the flow, pretending not to notice as if it would make Negan think more highly of him. Instead he was simply straightening his shirt as if nothing had happened, one hand smoothing his moustache as he stood there facing him.

Something had changed now, a line had been crossed by the both of them…what would come of this incident, only time would tell.

"I hope for all our sakes I don't have to say I told you so," Simon began, lecturing his own boss without concern. "That day is coming, friend. They won't take this lying down, and your blindness to her is going to get Saviours killed. I mean… _more_ Saviours killed."

Seeing red, Negan lunged for Lucille, and the moment he had her in hand he was ready to swing, he was ready to do it. "Get back to your outpost," he roared, brandishing Lucille at him. "Do your fucking job!"

"You're going to see that I'm right," Simon continued, still not giving it up even as he walked out the door. "More of us and them are going to die because we're doing nothing."

When the door slammed shut Negan let out an unintelligible yell, throwing the broken remnants of the decanter against the wall where they shattered once again. Needing the physical exertion he swung Lucille at a nearby lamp, roaring unintelligibly until his throat ached. When he fell silent he panted for breath and looked around at what he had done, and irrationally he felt himself blaming Carrie for everything that had transpired.

That bitch…that fucking bitch…after everything he did to look after her here and everything he was doing to protect her now, he doubted he'd ever receive a word of thanks. It enraged him like nothing ever had before, making him swing Lucille at the decorative bronze chalice by the window, and when he felt it soothe him ever so slightly he knew what he needed.

Roughly picking the glass from his socks he shoved his feet into a pair of boots, shrugging on his leather jacket and slinging Lucille across the front of his shoulder. Inside his bedroom door was the pack that belonged to Carrie, the pack that held every single possession she had left behind at the Sanctuary. Though he had trashed her bedroom that morning he had arranged for her things to be collected, having every intention of returning them to her, every single item. It had been naive, an effort to remind her that her experience at the Sanctuary wasn't all bad…that _he_ wasn't all bad.

A small gesture though it may be, he had hoped it might be enough to convince her to see him. All he wanted to do was tell her that it was over, that he wasn't going to retaliate for what she had done. Was it so wrong that he wanted to bring her a little peace of mind…that he wanted to say goodbye to her?

That idea was done with now, that much he understood. There was no point in living in fantasy land anymore. Carrie Grimes never wanted to see him again, not for anything. Repeating this to himself he grabbed her pack and then departed his room, briefly entertaining the idea of driving to Alexandria that night and tossing it over the gate, but he had already wasted enough gasoline on that bitch. Storming through the Sanctuary he encountered no one, the halls deserted as though there was some invisible alarm that alerted people that he was on a rampage, that he was not to be fucking messed with.

It was cold outside as usual, but at the very least it wasn't raining. The upper sundeck was the last place he had really spoken to Carrie, the evening after the incident in Carson's office, and stupidly he had believed that his apology had smoothed things over with her. Dumping her pack onto the sun lounge he opened it and reached in, seizing the first item that presented itself to him. A bottle of prenatal vitamins, provided for her benefit from his stockpile, and yet not a word of thanks was given.

Pitching the small bottle into the air he took an expert swing, the small thud of Lucille striking it more satisfying than he could have imagined it. Like a golfer keeping an eye on the ball he watched as it soared into the darkness, listening out for the sound of it hitting the ground somewhere far away. Reaching for the next item he took out the portable CD player she had purchased using his points, that giving an even more satisfying _thwack_ as he hit it far away. It clattered to the ground somewhere in the darkness, but he hadn't stopped to listen this time. He was already diving back into the bag, tossing aside a stuffed elephant in favour of a book from the Sanctuary's library, soon followed by a bottle of lotion and then whatever other trinkets and junk she had been guilted into buying from the marketplace.

One by one it all went soaring into the darkness, softer items like baby clothes and stuffed toys set aside before being tossed into the fire pit in the centre of the deck. With a few sloshes of gasoline and a lit match the last of her belongings went up in flames, and he watched without remorse as a pair of baby shoes singed before burning. The plastic eyes on the stuffed elephant melted almost comically, running down the soft fur as though they were tears.

Tossing her pack in too for good measure, Negan left her things there to burn. He was done with that bitch…he never wanted to see her again.

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A/N So, what did you think of Negan? I was a little unsure of properly getting inside his head, I don't know if I hit the mark - and I've never referred to a character's genitals as often as I did in this POV. Please me know what you think by leaving a review - cheers!


	63. Chapter 63

Guest reviewer - **Amy** \- I reply to my reviews, but as you weren't logged in I couldn't reply to yours directly. Thanks so much for your review, it was so encouraging to read, really a feel good moment for this author! Glad you're a Rick/Carrie shipper, but that you also like the idea of Negan caring about her. Even a villain can have a human side, and you're absolutely right - everyone is the hero in their own story, that's so true for Negan. There will also be more Carrie and Carl in future chapters. Thanks for the review

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Tuesday evening brought with it rain and thunder, making it the perfect night for Carrie to spend inside curled up on the couch with Rick, but it wasn't to be. Instead of spending every possible minute together they had joined many others in King Ezekiel's quarters, literally attending a round table meeting. Tonight, representatives from all four communities were in attendance, four communities who were coming together to plan a war against a fifth.

There were almost twenty of them in attendance, most of the attendees from Alexandria, and without enough seats for everyone some like Aaron and Rosita were standing, but everyone was involved. Jesus had arrived that afternoon with three others from Hilltop, but the newest faces to Carrie were Cyndie and Kathy, two strangers from a never before heard of community, the Oceanside. The meeting itself was a lot for her to take in, but so too was the sudden influx of people she knew little of, but who knew much of her. After days of largely being in the company of a select few she was starting to feel like an animal in the zoo, and she suspected Daryl felt much the same.

The conversation had taken on a life of its own, not ceasing for the three hours they had been there that evening. They had started this meeting in the late afternoon, breaking only for a brief time in which they stepped out for a bite to eat, but even the interruption didn't break the flow of conversation. For the first time ever all four communities who intended to declare war against the Saviours were together, and they weren't wasting a moment. There was much for them to discuss, and now that Carrie and Daryl were both safe there was not a minute to waste.

She was broken from her thoughts by the gentle touch of a hand to her shoulder, and she looked up from her lap as Aaron carefully passed a mug of hot tea over her shoulder and set it on the table. Appreciative of the gesture she thanked him quietly, but her voice felt croaky and strained, like it wasn't really her speaking. As if understanding he simply gave her a short nod of acknowledgement, his hand lingering on her shoulder another moment before he returned to where he had been standing earlier.

All cards were on the table now. Everyone had disclosed all that they knew of the Saviours, and that included Carrie and Daryl. She had been sitting quietly for some time, having not spoken a word since she had disclosed her experiences. It was exhausting and long winded, the conversation leaving her emotionally spent after discussing every detail of what happened at the Sanctuary. She'd taken them through as much as she could remember, aided by the notebook Ezekiel had asked her to write in. Negan had been a huge topic of discussion, but so too had the daily life of the Sanctuary, Carrie sharing not only the trivial facts but her perceptions too.

Throughout her explanation those present had quizzed her at length, asking all kinds of questions from how often Simon was there, to whether or not the armoury was still on the fourth floor D corridor. Which doors are locked and who has the keys? How many prisoners are there? Do the prisoners have anything to defend themselves with? Same question about the workers. Where did the children live? How many were there? Would they be safe in the event that something terrible happened…

It was a huge relief when the conversation finally moved on from her and Daryl, for at the last question Carrie felt her throat tightening. It had occurred to her of course that should they bring a fight to the Sanctuary then there would be innocent people put in danger, but now that they were actively planning for the war it had hit home particularly hard. She couldn't stop thinking about the people there, and not just the children. There were people who had been kind to her, Negan's wives, workers and prisoners like Daryl…what would happen to them when war was brought to their home?

Space at the table meant that she and Rick were literally sitting with their chairs pressed side by side, not that either were complaining. Beneath the table his hand was resting on her knee, her hand atop his. Every now and then she would take his hand and move it to her belly so he could feel the baby move, but when it stopped she returned it to the top of her leg. Even after everything she had been through she was craving his touch, for it wasn't sexual in nature, but rather the kind of warm intimacy she had come to expect from him. An innocent hand on her leg was comforting, as was his usual inclination to touch her hand as they walked side by side or to put his arm around her waist. Nevertheless, part of their reunion felt bittersweet, for his presence there by her side only made Carl and Judith's absence more pronounced.

Right now there was much discussion of Arat's recommendation that they wait until the Saviour's next leaders meeting before making a move, a meeting that would be over three weeks away. On one hand three weeks felt like a great deal of time, like they were waiting too long before striking, but at the same time…three weeks? That was awfully soon. Would they be able to pull together the man power and resources to successfully attack all four outposts and the Sanctuary all at once? There was no room for error with this plan…they had to get it right.

From the information Carrie had garnered from her snooping in Laura's room, the allies were once again at a secret advantage over the Saviours. No one knew that she had been in Laura's room that day, Negan had no idea that his enemies had clear insight into their weaknesses. The Saviours were facing an ammunition shortage, and if they stuck to their monthly quotas and received the forecast volume of ammunition from their victim communities they were set for another twelve months. The Saviours were once again tightening restrictions, giving only a small allowance for their people to be training and keeping their skills up…was that a good thing, or a bad thing for the allies? Was it better that they waste their ammunition doing training, or was it more dangerous to have poor shots with extra rounds?

Regina's outpost at the Shepherd Office Plaza, and Simon's outpost at the FedEx Centre. These were the outposts that Lana had never encountered, the locations having only been established in the last ten months or so. The information Carrie had given about them had been incredibly valuable to the allies, giving them insight into the workforce at each outpost, the fighters, the inventory of supplies and the weapons cache. Her hastily written notes had been mind boggling, and the only relief was that the Saviours didn't have enough ammunition to make full use of their huge weapon power.

"But we do," Rick stated. "Even alone, Alexandria has enough ammunition to make use of their caches. We need to get our hands on those Brownings."

"I thought the Saviours cleared your armoury," Jesus commented from across the table, sitting with Kal, Crystal and another woman whose name Carrie didn't know.

"What we had in the armoury that day was about a fifth of what we had left, even after giving a portion to the Hilltop. The rest of it's buried. When the time is right we're going to dig it up."

"When will that be?" Colton enquired, taking notes.

"As soon as things settle down with the Saviours. If they find us with anything, they'll confiscate it again."

"That's not all we've got," Rosita spoke up, approaching the table and setting down the magazine from the gun she carried. "Eugene is manufacturing ammunition for us."

A flurry of awe swept the room, Colton eagerly taking the magazine and inspecting the rounds it held. Carrie too looked up in interest, this being news to her. Manufacturing their own ammunition was something Alexandria had been planning for quite some time, but with Rick away over Christmas and then things starting with the Saviours they hadn't been able to invest much time in the venture.

"What's the quality like?" Daniel enquired, he too taking a turn to inspect the rounds. "We tried making our own here, but never got it off the ground."

"Quality is shit hot," Rosita assured them. "Eugene knows what he's doing…even if he is a dictator."

"Not one round has failed us yet, and it's not going to," Rick said boldly. "The first problem is capacity. How much we can produce and when. Then comes the biggest problem."

"Making sure the Saviours don't find out?"

"Yes. Not only would they confiscate it, they'd make us keep producing for them. It would be the end of any advantage we had…it would be the end of us."

"Sounds like we're going to need some serious man power," Jerry spoke up. "Or…woman power," he tried to correct himself. "Girl power?"

"People power," Dianne supplied.

"People power," he said jovially. "We're going to need some people power."

"Indeed, we will," Ezekiel spoke up, having been largely silent throughout the meeting. "And people power shall be granted to this quest. We will manufacture ammunition, _together_."

"The Hilltop is already making more knives and spears, machete's too. We need weaponry that the Saviours are less inclined to confiscate, and that won't run out."

"Could use some bolts too," Daryl added. He stood in the far corner behind Lana's chair, arms folded and face downcast, but he looked up as he spoke. "Get more people trained up on crossbows. No idiots though."

"How about some boomerangs?" Jerry joked, nudging Lana beside him.

She smiled, though it looked forced. "Unless you've seen the Saviours flying like a flock of birds, I'd stick with guns and knives."

Without conscious decision to do so, Carrie too spoke up. "We need bombs."

Everyone present turned and looked at her, taken aback by how she said with with complete nonchalance. Rick too was looking at her in surprise, and beneath the table he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"The Saviours use dynamite to clear their herds. They had a lot of it in inventory, I just don't remember where."

"It'll be with the Fat Lady," Lana spoke up, her hands clenched together on top of the table. "They don't keep it at the Sanctuary, just in case something goes wrong."

"We'd need to make sure there are definitely no explosives kept at the Sanctuary," Rick iterated. "The last thing we need is them throwing dynamite at us from the fourteenth storey."

"Might be a job for Arat," Lana mused. "If she's really this deep in Negan's pocket she should be able to go anywhere she pleases."

At this comment Carrie grit her teeth, annoyed that her suggestion had lead to Arat's name being brought up. She held her breath and waited for the conversation to resume, but to her frustration it deviated to Arat now.

"When are you meeting her next?" Ezekiel asked. "I too would like to make her acquaintance."

"Same time next week," Lana answered. "Tuesday morning, four o'clock."

As conversation moved towards the next meeting with Arat, Carrie tried her hardest to tune out, to not even think about her. But she just could not get her head around it, though the circumstances had been explained more than once. Everyone seemed to be talking about Arat like she was a hero, that she was helping them and was worthy of their trust. Meanwhile it left Carrie seething on the inside, and every time that bitch's name came up in conversation she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. She would never forget what Arat had done, the sheer terror of believing that Carson was going to induce labor and force her to give birth. Arat had allowed that to happen, and had participated in the act…and she had killed Olivia. How could her own people look past that?

Lana had also spoken up in support of Arat, and that was messing with Carrie's head too. It was strange enough to think about Lana's former life at the Sanctuary, and difficult to think of she and Arat being close friends. Lana had risked a great deal to help Arat's family flee to the Oceanside camp, but when Lana left Arat rose through the ranks of Negan's soldiers…but now they were on the same side again?

With Arat serving as the catalyst conversation had turned back to the Oceanside group, the very people who advocated the hardest for her immunity. Part of the arrangement with this new group was that Alexandria could send their most vulnerable people down to them, that they would provide a safe refuge from the impending war. Ezekiel too was entertaining this idea, as was Jesus and the Hilltop. It was now just a matter of when, and the logistics required. The current residents mainly stuck to a select group of cabins, but there were more than enough to house the number of people that were under consideration, but they would need to bring their own food and supplies to support themselves.

"All our people will carry their weight," Ezekiel stated, glancing at Rick before addressing Cyndie and Kathy. "We have enough supplies to carry our own weight, and to provide compensation for the trouble."

"Time to break out the semi-trailers?" Jerry asked eagerly.

"Indeed it is, Jerry," Ezekiel smiled. "Colton, Dianne. I leave in your trusted hands the responsibility of arranging the means to get all those who seek refuge to the Oceanside community, with adequate compensation. You will coordinate with Rick and Jesus too, ensure their needs are met."

"We'll make the arrangements," Dianne agreed, nudging Colton and muttering for him to write something down.

Kathy politely cleared her throat, waiting until she had everyone's attention. "We're going to need more than dead weight. More people in our cabins means a wider area to keep watch, more people who need protecting…and crying babies," she added with an apologetic tone, glancing at Carrie. "We want able bodies down there too."

"Of course," Dianne readily agreed. "Let's talk more in the morning, make sure we've got the right mix of people here, and at Oceanside."

Deciding she'd had enough Carrie placed her hand on Rick's knee, getting his attention. "I'm tired. I'm going back to the room."

Sensing that all was not well, Rick looked at her in concern. "Let me walk you there," he murmured, patting the top of her hand before they both rose. "Excuse us."

There was a polite flurry, those like Ezekiel and Jerry rising from their chairs at the same time she did, a gentlemanly gesture. Endeared by their politeness she softly bid everyone goodnight, glad to be done with the whole thing.

"Don't forget to give Shiva her goodnight kiss," Jerry said lightly.

Pausing as she pulled on her jacket Carrie looked at him in alarm, having given no thought to the fact that Shiva was likely nearby the royal quarters. But upon seeing the cheeky sparkle in Jerry's eyes she gave a short chuckle, liking the way Ezekiel was admonishing him for teasing her. Saying her farewells again she stepped out into the dimly lit corridor, waiting a few moments before Rick joined her. They said nothing as they joined hands and went on their way, walking together in a comfortable silence that didn't need to be filled with mindless conversation.

The rain had eased into a light sprinkle, but still Rick opened an umbrella, putting his arm around her in effort to keep her warm and dry. Reciprocating, for she could see water dripping down onto his right shoulder, Carrie slipped her around behind him and put her hand into the back pocket of his jeans. It felt wonderful to be walking by his side again, to feel his body against hers that allowed her to relish the familiarity and comfort. Not even the icy cold wind was able to put a damper on the moment.

When they got back to their building she had to remind herself to go to her own room that night, not Daryl's. There was a comfortable silence as she and Rick entered their room, using a flashlight to guide them until she found the camping lantern and turned it on. When the baby was born she would be rationed some extra electricity, a solar panel outside the window that would power some lights and a heater, the radio too, but for now she had to make do like everyone else.

Leaving him to hang up their coats she made her way straight into the bathroom, and there she brushed her teeth and washed her face, using as little of the water supply as possible. She lingered there a few moments, a small part of her suddenly not wanting to go back into the room with Rick… she didn't know what to say to him. It was beginning to feel a little strange having him there, particularly when all she had craved for the last two weeks was to have him by her side.

When she went back inside she found him sitting on the arm of the couch waiting for her, and it was clear that he too didn't know what to say. Throughout most of the day they hadn't actually been alone together, and now that they were again it felt unfamiliar…almost uncomfortable. So much had happened to them in the last few weeks. How were they ever supposed to go back to the way things were before?

Though she was physically and mentally exhausted she was too antsy to even consider going to sleep. Instead she bustled around the room aimlessly, rubbing some lotion onto her belly and then dabbing some face cream beneath her eyes. She was picking things up and moving them around, filling her water bottle though it was mostly full already, and all the while she kept glancing over at him and trying to think of something to say. Finally he seemed to have had enough, and he was the first to break the silence.

"Dance with me."

Frowning, Carrie looked up at him. In her hands she held a tube of diaper rash cream, having taken it out of the packaging in order to have it ready at hand when she would need it. It sure didn't feel like a moment that called for them to dance, but at the sight of him standing there with his hand out to her there was no way she could deny his request. Setting aside the baby things she came over, putting her hand into his and letting him bring her close.

"There's no music," she murmured.

"What? You don't hear it?"

At this she smiled, the twang of his accent warming her heart. They were doing little other than swaying and moving their feet, but already she felt her anxiety easing a little. Seeking more of his comfort she moved closer again, wishing they could hold one another as closely as they used to before her belly got so big. It felt so good to have his arm around her waist, to feel the roughness of his beard against her cheek, and then she had a vivid memory of their wedding. They had danced together then too, back when he could hold her flush against him, when she was lighter on her feet and could coax him into dancing a little more fast paced.

Taking advantage of the opportunity Carrie turned to look at him, giving him a small smile before leaning in to share a kiss. Her eyes drifted shut as their lips met, her heart aching with joy as they shared something so intimate. Their tongues touched a little, soft sighs shared against one another's lips, but it wasn't sexual. It was as natural as any other kiss, but this was was of a different kind of desire and intimacy.

"What are we listening to?"

"The Spice Girls," he answered after a brief pause. "Beyonce. Some shit you love."

"Don't swear," she said softly, her mind immediately taking her back to Negan and his filthy language. She rested her head on his shoulder now, breathing in the familiar smell of him. "Your voice is too lovely to be swearing."

"Okay," he murmured, kissing her forehead.

Silence resumed, but it was comfortable again, the type that didn't need mindless chatter or activity to fill. For what felt like the longest time they simply swayed back and forth together, aimlessly making their way around the room as they enjoyed themselves. She never wanted to let go of this, but rather hold on to it for as long as possible. In the back of her mind lingered the ongoing fear that something terrible was still to come, that it was too soon for her to let her guard down and feel hopeful again. None of this was over yet…she could still lose him.

"I'm proud of what you did," he said softly, his voice rumbling in his chest. "I wish you didn't have to. I wish you could have just let Negan bring you home himself…but I'm proud of you."

"I couldn't leave him there," she replied, not needing to clarify that they were talking about Daryl. "I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try."

"I know. What you did for Daryl…for our baby," he murmured, trying to find the right words. "Thank you."

At his words of gratitude she wanted to lift her head from his shoulder, to share a kiss with him and relish in the knowledge that they were together again, that their baby was safe. But she couldn't quite bring herself to do it, for there was much she needed to get off her chest.

"I stabbed Laura with an ice pick."

This had largely come out of the blue, and so she didn't blame him for taking a moment to respond. "The one with the tattoo on her neck?"

That's not how Carrie had been thinking of her lately. Now when she thought of Laura she thought of that stunning wedding dress, the gold bodice and feathered skirt…she imagined her wearing it, picturing Laura as just a normal person like she too had once been. "Yeah. I stabbed her, again and again. It was like I couldn't stop."

"Good," he said bluntly. "You did what you had to do."

She gave a bitter laugh, needing to get it all off her chest. "I stabbed her in the face," she said heavily, her throat tight. "I mutilated her. It was sick."

"It was you or her," he stated, sounding resolute. "Sick or not, you did the right thing. You did it for Daryl, and for our baby."

"I know," she muttered, wishing she could focus on that and not the savagery she had inflicted, the memory of Laura's mutilated face burned into her mind's eye.

"I'm grateful," Rick added, turning to press his lips to the crown of her head. "I'm grateful for everything you did to survive."

"I want Carl and Judith here," she quickly stated, making her wishes clear. "Do you think it's safe?"

"It's safe in the short term," he assured her. "But it's getting them here that's the problem. If the Saviours caught me out on the road with Judith they'd know I was bringing her to you."

"You said they were letting all this go, that they weren't looking for me anymore."

"I think they are, but if they found you by chance? They might take the opportunity to retaliate."

"So…it's a no?"

"On the kids? We just need to see what things are like tomorrow. One way or another though, I need to be in Alexandria on Thursday."

"The next tribute?"

"Yes."

She dwelled on this a few moments, having given this topic a lot of thought today. Finally she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him properly, and slowly their feet came to a stop.

"We're really doing this? We're fighting them?"

Rick held her gaze as he considered his answer. "Do you see another way?" he asked. "Can we live the way they want us to?"

"No," she answered, not needing to think about that. "I just don't want to lose what we have left."

"We have to fight for what we have left," he countered. "Or they're just going to keep taking from us. Peace with the Saviours will never last."

"No," she reluctantly agreed. She had seen too much to ever believe that there could be lasting peace without war. "I don't know if we can trust Arat."

Clearly Rick had been hoping to avoid this particular conversation, for she saw the way his expression changed before he averted his eyes. A moment later he started swaying again, moving them to the sound of music that wasn't there. The moment felt peaceful as he moved his hand further around her waist, bringing her closer again.

"Carl told me what happened," he murmured, his eyes focused on the opposite wall before looking at her. "He said she was there. I'm sorry."

Carrie sighed, feeling impatient with him. He had missed the point. "I don't need you to be sorry for what they did. I need you to be sure about her. Are you?"

"No," he admitted heavily. "And yes. One way or another, we have to spare her if we can. That's the deal with Oceanside. She's why they're here."

It was this notion that she could hardly fathom, that there were people who believed in and loved Arat, Lana included. If their gamble on her paid off the allies would have another huge advantage, for a mole within the Sanctuary could change everything, but still Carrie could not look past the things Arat had done. Setting aside what she had done to her, Arat had killed Olivia…until it was convenient for her to change sides, Arat was a die hard Saviour serving Negan. She _was_ Negan.

But there was a small part in the back of Carrie's mind that could see the other side of things. What happened to Arat could have eventually happened to Daryl. Arat had been forced to chose one of her people to die, had watched it happened and was then imprisoned by Negan. She was tortured like Daryl, kept as a prisoner of war to use against her own people…and then Negan turned her into one of his best, just like promised he would do with Daryl. They were two sides of the same coin…but unlike with Daryl, no one had helped Arat escape.

"You made that deal with Oceanside before we knew the whole story," she said bitterly, unable to let it go. "She killed Olivia…she could kill more of us."

Rick seemed to not know what to say, stuck between siding with his wife and the need to make things work with Arat and Oceanside. No matter which way they sliced it they needed Oceanside, and if Arat really was willing to help them they couldn't turn her down. In his silence he offered comfort the only way he could, one hand stroking her lower back as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. There was nothing he could say to make things better.

"I'm going to bed," she decided, pulling away from him before he could even stop swaying.

"Hey," he murmured, catching the sleeve of her sweater.

Though part of her wanted to seek solitude she turned back to him, comforted by the way he reached out to take her hand.

"Everything's going to be okay," he said lowly, looking her in the eye and holding her gaze. "It's going to get better."

She needed to hear that, probably more than she realised, for while those words carried only a promise as opposed to actual change, they meant something to her. This was another proof point that things were going to get better, that she was free from the Saviours and they she and Rick were together again. Returning to his side she gave him a light kiss on the lips, lingering close for a moment.

"Are you going back to the meeting?" she asked. She wouldn't hold it against him if he was, but she hoped he would stay.

"They'll be finished by now," he said lowly, shaking his head. "You got a spare toothbrush?"

She tried not to smile, wanting to hide how glad she was that he was staying. "On the window sill," she answered, gently pulling on his hand and showing him towards the small restroom. "I'm just getting some things from Daryl's room."

If he was curious as to why her things were in Daryl's room he didn't mention it, and she knew he wouldn't expect an explanation of any kind. Sharing Daryl's room and his bed hadn't been inappropriate, it wasn't something they needed to hide from anyone. But when she entered his room in search of her dressing gown and slippers she could tell that something had changed now. For the last few nights she had been coming in here for comfort, because she felt scared and alone, because she didn't want to be separated from him. Now though, an equilibrium of sorts had been reached. Their freedom from the Saviours finally felt real. No longer did she have to be afraid of being snatched from her bed in the middle of the night, or of awakening to find it had all been a trick.

Before she collected her dressing down and slippers from where they had been discarded on the bed she habitually straightened a few things up, closing the drapes so the room would be a little warmer when he returned for the night. She hoped that he too felt the change that she did, because though he wasn't one to say it she knew it had been nice for him to have her close over the last few days, that he had enjoyed her company. It had to have been awfully lonely in that cell.

As this thought occurred to her the bedroom door opened, revealing to her the fact that Daryl wouldn't be alone tonight. Having not needed to knock Lana was entering the room, turning off her flashlight when she found a light on inside, and when she saw Carrie there by the bed she mostly managed to hide her surprise.

"Hey," she said lightly, closing the door behind herself. "We're calling it a night too."

Making note of the use of _we_ , Carrie hastened to collect her things. "Where's Daryl?"

"Having a smoke." Using her feet Lana kicked off her boots and nudged them aside, shivering when she removed her outer coat. "He's really making me go through my Nicobate gum," she complained. "I can smell everything."

Carrie smiled, unable to help herself. "How are you feeling?" she enquired in concern, and not just because of how sick she had been only a week or so ago.

"Pretty shit, actually," she laughed light heartedly, though she looked eager to explain. "I was starting to think I'd get through this without any morning sickness, but I think I jinxed myself."

Though she gave a nod of commiseration, Carrie opted not to tell her that it morning sickness didn't necessarily end after the first trimester, that she was still occasionally caught unawares by a sudden bout of nausea. For a moment she considered staying a little longer, remembering that when things were good between them it as all too easy to spend hours talking, that she genuinely enjoyed Lana's company. But a quick glance back towards her own room was all that she needed to keep the conversation short, knowing that Rick was waiting for her to join him.

"You'll feel better soon," she said kindly, though it was an empty assurance. "Good night."

She had reached the door when Lana called to her, making her stop with her hand poised on the knob. Looking back she took note of Lana's body language, that she was uncomfortable. Her arms were folded across her chest as she hesitated, and perhaps she still felt like she was the one who had brought this misery down upon them all, like it wasn't inevitable that the Saviours would have found them with or without her residence.

"I know what you did for Daryl," she began awkwardly, struggling to look her in the eye. "And not just getting him out of there. You're pretty fuckin' ballsy."

Carrie paused, knowing that she hadn't widely discussed her attempts to bring Daryl food and water while he was locked up. Had he been the one to tell her? Though they were clearly relieved to be reunited with one another there still seemed to be an uncertain distance between the two of them that day. They had been practically dancing around one another, taking a little time to warm up and really come to terms with the fact that they were both safe and alive…it had been crushing when Daryl learned that Lana was supposedly dead, and a huge shock to learn that she was alive after all.

"What you did for Arat's family," she began, the words feeling difficult to say. "That was pretty ballsy too."

With a bitter laugh Lana managed to look her in the eye, her arms still tightly folded across her chest. "Look where it got me. Married to Negan."

"Still," she murmured, holding her gaze. "You did the right thing for them…and now they're doing the right thing for us."

"Even if it means letting Arat go?" she challenged.

Not knowing how to respond to that Carrie averted her eyes. She knew what the logical course of action was, that she should set aside all that Arat had done in order to take advantage of her offer to sabotage the Saviours…but it was easier said than done. She wasn't sure that she could ever look past the terror Arat had helped put her through, least of all Olivia's murder.

"Good night," she said gently, bringing their conversation to an end.

Lana nodded, getting the hint. "G'night."

Retreating, Carrie returned to her room and kicked off her shoes in exchange for her slippers instead, all the while watching Rick who stood in the corner by the crib. He was looking down at it, one hand resting on the soft white blanket over the end, while in the other he held the knitted Gremblygunk, studying it at leisure. Though he glanced up when she came in his attention was focused more on the baby things, not that she minded.

"One of the workers made that for me," she explained, joining him. "She called it a Gremblygunk."

She saw the way his expression changed, the hardening of his mouth. "A worker at the Sanctuary?"

"Yeah."

There was a brief pause as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "You kept it?"

At this she hesitated, having not expected the disapproval in his tone. "She was nice to me," she said, this being sort of the truth. "I wasn't going to just throw it in the dirt."

Wisely choosing to let it go, he simply placed the Gremblygunk back into the crib where he had found it, allowing his hand to trace over the top of the frame. "It's pretty small," he commented. "I can bring the one from home if you like."

Though she appreciated the offer to bring a little piece of Alexandria for their baby, Carrie shook her head. "Chloe swears by this crib. You can bring it right to the edge of the bed, the side unzips…it's easy to pack up and go at a moment's notice."

"Can it pack up and go to Oceanside?"

"Oceanside? When?"

"Tomorrow."

Carrie hesitated, having not expected this. She took a deep breath to steady herself, not at all liking that he was trying to change the plans. "We talked about this. I'm having the baby here."

Rick nodded seemingly in agreement, but Carrie knew him too well to think that was the end of the conversation. She noticed the way he averted his eyes as he took a moment to think, preparing his argument.

"I need to take Judith there. Maggie and Herschel are going soon, maybe tomorrow…maybe the day after our next tribute. I want you to go too."

"No, I want Judy to come here," she countered, looking at him in disbelief. She couldn't believe she even had to say that to him. "I want her to be with me."

"You can go to Oceanside together," he assured her. "You, Judy and Carl can all be there together. Same with Maggie, same with all the people here too."

Without another word Carrie turned away from him, her feet carrying her across the room as her heart started racing. This was not what she wanted, this was not what she had in mind. How could he not see it? How could he not understand what it was she needed right now?

"I want Judy here with me," she said firmly, looking back at him. "And I want to have the baby _here_. That's it. That's what I want."

"But if w-"

"This is not a negotiation."

Rick took pause, looking at her as he tried a different argument. "Harlan is coming to Oceanside," he began explaining. "He's a good doctor, he's been looking after Lana. He can be there when the baby comes."

"No!" she snapped at him, infuriated by the very notion. "I'm not a ping pong ball going back and forth between doctors."

"I know it's been stressful, th-"

"Oh, you know?" she said sarcastically, hearing her voice becoming shrill. "You don't know shit. I'm sick of having to see a new doctor all the time. Brea is my doctor," she stated firmly, looking him in the eye. "I'm having the baby here, with Brea."

Appearing to accept this he stood down from his suggestion, taken aback by her outright refusal. "Alright."

"For God's sake…we spent an hour with her today talking about it. Why didn't you say something then?"

"It hadn't occurred to me."

"Well it _has_ occurred to me, and I'm staying here. And I want to see Judith," she reiterated. "She's my daughter too, I want her with me. You're not taking her to Oceanside."

It was at this demand that she saw him hesitate, neither fully agreeing nor disagreement with her latter statement.

"We are going to make this work," he assured her, his soft tone both reassuring and comforting her. Unlike before when he had kept his distance he drew nearer now, reaching his hand out and waiting for her to take it. When she did he gave it a firm squeeze, encouraging her to close the gap between them. "If the roads are clear tomorrow I'll bring Judith here first thing. Carl too."

Satisfied with this plan she nodded in agreement, coming closer until the swell of her belly was pressed against him. "And the baby?"

She could feel his hesitation, but he gave what he knew was the only acceptable answer. "Whatever you need…we'll make it work."

Trusting that he would keep his word she willingly left things at that. She reached her arms around and pulled him close, taking him in her embrace while ever she had the opportunity. But unlike before when they had danced he was not relaxed, and she could feel the tension in his body even when he put his arms around her too. When she pulled back she could see the sorrow in his eyes, and though he tried to blink and hide it she could see that they were brimming with tears. Against her will she started to think of the day it all happened, remembering the moment Negan dragged him into the RV, how she thought she'd never see him again. He had to have felt the same way when she was taken too, that he'd never see her or the baby.

"It wasn't your fault," she said lowly, reaching up to touch his jaw when he tried to turn away from her. "What happened was not your fault."

His body jerked in response, a shudder he couldn't hide. He properly turned away from her now, his head bowed as his hand rose to his face to wipe his eyes. "Feels like it is."

"No. It wasn't anyone's fault but Negan's," she said vehemently, feeling her own eyes tearing up. "He did this to us, and we're going to make it right again."

His mouth was set in a hard line, eyes fixed on the wall behind her. "It won't bring them back."

He looked at her now, his sorrowful eyes only making her heart ache even more. It might feel like she was reaching breaking point, but so too was he. She wished that she could offer some real comfort, to provide solace from the pain they were both feeling, but there was nothing either of them could do but endure it with one another.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," he said quietly, struggling to look her in the eye. "You deserved better."

"Don't say that," she said firmly. Even as she admonished him for his apology she had to withhold her own, to not say she was sorry for coming in the RV that day, that she should have stayed in Alexandria. "What happened was not our fault."

He didn't seem to believe her, his hand rising to press the corners of his eyes as he tried to hold himself together. Trying to ease his pain she kindly brushed the curls off his forehead, kissing his cheek before bringing him close. They cried together without shame, Carrie stroking the back of his neck and she too sought comfort from him. His arms were tight around her, hand clenched into the fabric of her shirt as his body shook, but quickly he quietened. For a long while they simply stood there with one another, not yet ready to let go.

"I love you," she murmured, having learned that she couldn't say these words enough. "I love you, and everything's going to be okay."

"I love you, too," he replied equally softly, and a moment later he slowly let her go. As he pulled away his hands slipped down her forearms before settling on her belly, fingers spreading out to touch her. "I don't want you to be afraid anymore."

She understood the sentiment he was trying to convey, but right now those words were lost on her. Being afraid was just a given, for being free of Negan's imprisonment did not mean that she was truly safe, that any of them were. A war was growing near, and they had so much to lose. In that moment she wanted to be a coward, to tell him that they and their family ought to just run away together. She loved him too much to risk losing him, she didn't want to go on if he wasn't by her side. But she knew she couldn't put that burden on him, even though it was a burden he must already carry on his shoulders. Instead she kissed him, holding onto that moment of peace.

"Let's go to bed," she suggested, hoping he would join her.

He nodded in agreement, kissing her once more before they separated. As if they hadn't just had one of the more difficult conversations of their entire relationship they prepared to turn in for the night, Carrie lighting a candle that would burn safely in a lantern before turning off the battery powered camping lantern. Setting it safely onto the nightstand she scoped out the situation with the bed, feeling a small flicker of familiarity when Rick automatically gravitated to his usual side of. He was pulling back the blankets, taking a single pillow for himself and pushing the rest towards her. This was a routine they were both well versed in, for neither of them slept well if she was uncomfortable, Carrie made sure of it.

"Do you need anything?" he offered as she settled onto the mattress. He stood on the other side, setting his duty belt nearby before removing his jeans and kicking them aside.

"No, I'm okay thanks."

Sitting on the edge of the bed she removed her bra without taking off her shirt, feeling like she needed just a small element of privacy for her body, even from Rick. Yet when she lay down and got comfortable with a pillow between her knees and beneath her belly, she was reaching back for him. When he moved closer and settled behind her she gave a genuine smile, her heart warming. This was something in particular she had been craving, the warmth of his body behind hers as they slept…she didn't even mind if he snored that night.

"At the Sanctuary I would sleep with a pillow behind my back," she began, encouraging him to put his arm around her waist. "It reminded me of you…made it feel like you were there."

It took a little while for him to say something in response, perhaps needing a moment to process the thought of how she had tried coping at the Sanctuary. "I started sleeping in Judith's room. I'd get in the bed with her, sleep on the floor…didn't matter which."

"I bet she loved that," she smiled, imagining how special it would have made Judy feel to rouse and find her dad right there with her. "How has she been?"

Again, it took a moment for him to reply. "She's good. She's had a dry diaper every morning last couple of days."

"Really? Completely dry?"

He nodded, pressing his lips to the back of her shoulder. "I haven't needed to change her until after breakfast." He paused now, sighing softly. "I should have been putting her on the potty, but I just…"

"Soon," Carrie assured him. "Bring the potty with you when you bring her here."

"I will."

Silence fell now, both of them relaxing into the bedding as restful sleep approached. They lay together with his arm around her side, hand resting low on her belly where she had placed it, the most likely place he might feel the baby stretching his arms and shoulders. Thinking back over the last two weeks she remembered that she had missed his birthday last Thursday, that he was thirty nine now…Christ, he was pushing forty. She had planned on making him a giant Twinkie at least the best version she could manage with a box mix. She wanted to remind him of his birthday the year prior when they celebrated with Twinkies, on the road home from Georgia and were slowly falling in love. They had come a hell of a long way since then, especially considering she was about to give birth to their baby.

Inevitably her squashed bladder prevented her from going to sleep, and when the need to pee became too great to ignore she was forced to get up. She moved slowly, trying not to disturb Rick who was already asleep behind her, or on the cusp of it anyway. He roused a little as she moved out of his embrace, eyes fluttering open and watching as she got out of bed, but he didn't need to question where she was going. Putting her slippers and dressing gown on she made her way to the bathroom, taking the candle lantern with her to guide her way. She could see that the light in Daryl's room was still burning, but all was silent from him and Lana. It was tempting to stand at the door a few moments, to try and listen in as if she needed to make sure they were okay in there, but she didn't invade their privacy. Daryl would be alright…everyone was exactly where they needed to be.

When she returned to bed Rick lay awake, waiting for her return. She wanted to admonish him, to tell him to go back to sleep, but secretly she liked that he was awake, that he was waiting for her to come back. This time when she laid down she faced him, going to the effort of getting comfortable with the many pillows she needed, and then she reached out for him. She pulled him close, sighing contentedly when he put his head against the front of her shoulder and his arm around her side. His breath was warm against her skin, his curls tickling her jaw from where she rested her chin against the crown of his head, and in that moment everything was perfect.

They lay there together half awake half asleep, both resting on the edge, unable to completely relax enough to go to sleep. Nevertheless, things were changing now. Bit by bit, the reality of her freedom was hitting home for the both of them.

* * *

Thursday, March 12

For the fourth time now, Rick was forced to watch on as intruders swept through his home and wreaked havoc. Upon arrival the Saviours had spread throughout the community and barged into homes, being sure to cause a mess that was tiresome to clean up, searching through their belongings as if they were going to find something they hadn't before…or someone.

Just like times before the atmosphere was tense and uncomfortable, Rick sitting there in the gazebo with that damn baseball bat in hand yet again. Sitting on the bench next to him was Negan, the prick watching on in amusement as his people swept through the community on his orders, enjoying that he had Rick right beside him, powerless to do anything to stop him. Like every other time he was enjoying himself, acting as though he was on a much anticipated day out. But beneath the surface was a simmering tension, something set to snap at any moment.

It was increasingly clear that Arat was right about Negan's hurt feelings, as if getting punched in the face twice hadn't made that clear enough. He was genuinely upset by the fact that Carrie had run away from him, he had taken it as a personal slight against him which Rick had to admit wasn't exactly untrue. Nevertheless, Negan was taking it out on them as best he could, taking great pleasure in setting his men loose to wreak havoc upon Alexandria yet again.

Alexandria had a fourth new grave now, a patch of overturned soil beneath which they had supposedly buried Daryl. It was too feet left of the grave in which they had supposedly buried Lana, their two biggest lies to the Saviours staring them right in the fact. At times Rick wondered if Negan suspected he had been deceived but was chasing not to pursue it, or if he simply preferred to believe what he had been told, for perhaps it was easier that way.

"Well how about that for fucking service," Negan said happily, breaking Rick from his thoughts.

He looked up and watched as Francine approached where they sat in the gazebo, bringing Negan hot cocoa in Rick's mug, the latter detail having been specified. Delighted with the attentiveness and hospitality Negan gleefully rubbed his hands together, looking at Rick in an effort to rub it all in.

"Marshmallows and everything," he noted cheerfully, taking the mug from Francine. "Only one?"

Hiding her disdain for him as much as she could, Francine simply delivered the hot cocoa and then walked away, perhaps not trusting herself to speak. Nevertheless it was enough to appease Negan who seemed not to take offence to her silence.

"Good thing she doesn't work for tips," he commented, blowing on the cocoa before taking a sip.

Not responding either Rick simply kept his eyes frontward, noting with relief that the Saviours seemed to be clearing out now. Unlike times before they seemed to be clearing out as quickly as they arrived, and it was only Negan who seemed to be settling in for a longer stay. Hoping that wasn't the case Rick kept his mouth shut and played along, still holding the baseball bat with the tip resting on the toe of his boot. Negan had again entrusted him to hold it for the duration of today's tribute, but this time it came with the strict reminder that she was never to be set onto the ground, that she held the same sacred value as the country's flag.

While the Saviours were congregating back at their trucks Arat was approaching the gazebo, walking as though she hadn't a care in the world. Today those like Dwight and Simon were nowhere to be seen, and for all intents and purposes it seemed Arat was the Saviour in charge. Negan was there just for show, to get in Rick's face and confront him, while it seemed Arat was leading the actual work. Was this all going to plan? Had she already told Negan that she wanted to be the leader of Alexandria's outpost?

When she came over she spared Rick a glance, but it was one of no consequence. It was to Negan that she went, and with a low murmur she leant down and whispered something into his ear. As he waited to find out what it was Rick held his breath, part of him trusting that she wasn't going to screw them so quickly, another part ready for everything to fall apart.

"Is that so?" Negan murmured, and when Arat stepped back he turned his attention to Rick. "Rick…Arat here tells me that the widow is gone. The widow, that baby, all the kids…your little girl."

"Yes," he admitted, for there was no point in denying it.

"Your boy too," Negan added in disappointment. "Carl's fun. He's not afraid to throw a little bullshit around. I like him."

Rick said nothing to this, unsure of how Negan wanted him to respond. Was he supposed to apologise? Nevertheless Negan scoffed in disapproval, taking a sip of his cocoa as he leant back into the chair.

"I don't appreciate that you're making a liar out of me."

"How's that?"

"I promised Judith that I'd come back and play with her. You know I keep my promises, especially to someone as precious as her." There was a long pause now, Negan staring him down. "Where is she?"

He didn't lie. Not entirely at least. "She's with Carrie."

"And where's Carrie?" he immediately asked, looking at him expectantly. "Where are all of them?"

Needing to make this part perfectly understood, Rick cleared his throat and faced him, looking him in the eye. "They're staying away until this here is under control."

Much to his relief, he and Carrie had managed to come to a compromise where Judith was concerned, one that neither of them were entirely happy with, but one they could both bear. Judith and others like Maggie and Herschel were all safely at the Kingdom now, waiting a few days until everything was ready for them to journey south to the Oceanside Cabin Motor Court, their refuge for the foreseeable future. The question of when Carrie would go was still up in their air, largely dependent on her refusal to give birth anywhere but at the Kingdom with Brea.

Though things had felt strange between them the first night, almost like they were walking on egg shells with one another, things had changed the following morning. The reassurance that he was going to bring Judith and Carl straight away had been a relief to her, and when they arrived later that afternoon she had been waiting for them at the gate, refusing to go inside even though it was cold and raining. While he took Judith out of her seat Carrie wrenched open the back door where Carl was, holding him tightly and telling him that she was okay, that everything was alright. It had been killing Carl to stay safely at home in Alexandria while he knew Carrie was at the Kingdom, for he had struggled to accept that restraint was necessary at times like these. Carl too was overcome with relief, having spent days agonising over what his actions at the Sanctuary had led to for her.

A largely unhappy traveller, for Judith had never before been secured into a child seat, Judith's happiness had at first been attributed to the fact that she was free of the car and eagerly looking around her new surroundings. When Carrie all but wrenched her into her arms Judith looked at her in confusion, bewildered by their sudden reunion as if she hadn't spent a forty minute car ride hearing that she was about to see her mom. But as tears of joy streamed down Carrie's cheeks Judith finally understood, a cheerful smile coming over her face when she said hello. Two weeks of missing her mother was over now.

"Thank you," Carrie said in gratitude, kissing him as he hastily ushered them out of the rain and inside. "Rick, thank you."

He could tell what it meant to her, that freedom hadn't truely meant freedom until she was reunited with her family, and that moment had finally come. It was out in the cold weather that they were congregating, Maggie and Herschel exiting their car and sharing tearful hellos with Carrie, and then with Daryl. Glenn's death in particular was a spectre that hung about their shoulders, but though Maggie knew the details of what had led to Glenn's death she gave no indication that she blamed Daryl for anything…not that this made facing her any easier for him.

"A boy?"

Averting his eyes Rick looked back towards the lake, wishing the topic of the baby hadn't come up so quickly. With Carrie having been forced to seek medical care from Negan's people there was the distinct possibility that he knew what the gender of their baby was. "We don't know."

"She still hasn't spat that kid out?" Negan questioned loudly, not hiding his disappointment. "I've been waiting to hear what you named him," he commented, rising with a dramatic groan. "I guess I'll just have to stop by and say hello."

Seeing him reaching for the baseball bat he gladly passed it back over, but Rick wasn't done. "That's not a good idea."

"On the contrary, it's a fan-fucking-tastic idea!" Negan said loudly, taking a sip of his cocoa while with the other hand he was twirling Lucille around. "I'd love to see her. For old time's sake."

Slowly rising to his feet, Rick sought a middle ground between submissive and confrontational. "She doesn't want to see _you_."

Negan never faltered, still twirling Lucille around. Staring Rick down he brought the bat precariously close to him, but when he didn't flinch he seemed to give it up. Slowing it to a stop he brought her to rest against the front of his shoulder, drawing out the moment as the tension between them began to rise.

"I treated her like a fucking Queen," he said lowly, lifting the mug a little. "Hot cocoa and marshmallows every night."

"You also imprisoned and terrorised her," Rick replied, keeping his voice level and calm. "Can you blame her for not wanting to see you?"

"I blame her for a lot of things," Negan said lowly as he advanced on him, his first sign of aggression today. "For turning my place upside down, taking my Daryl…and for the dead people that we're still not square on."

Rick ignored the latter comment, for he didn't want to go down the road of how Negan would make things square. "I already told you I want this to work, but we're going to have to make changes."

"Oh!" Negan laughed, turning and looking at Arat over his shoulder. "Did you hear that? He's trying to swing his dick around!"

"A pick up is a pick up," Rick stated, standing his ground. "Not a damn house party that I get left cleaning up every time. And you're not to come. I don't give a damn who it is, just not you."

"And Carrie? You want me to give you a little, I fucking want something in return."

"You're not seeing her."

Negan pulled a face, not liking his answer. "What's to stop me lying in wait for you to go running off to her? You'll want to be by her side every minute of the day right about now."

"She told me that for the most part, you respected her," he argued, these words so obscure they difficult to say. "You treated her with dignity."

A small pause came to pass now, Negan's expression becoming serious. "Yes. I did."

"Then respect her wishes," he said firmly. "She doesn't want to see you. Don't force yourself on her."

There was a moment in which Negan stared him down, perhaps contemplating whether or not to push this further. "I never forced myself on her," he said lowly, still staring at him. "Not once. Not even a fucking hint of it."

"You know what I meant," Rick replied, refusing to budge on this issue. "She doesn't want to see you. Don't force her to."

For a long moment Negan stared at him, holding his breath as Rick did the same. He could see that he was thinking, weighing up the options presented to him. Should he go hard against Rick who was trying to defy him, to dictate how things were going to be from now on? Or, should he let up and leave well enough alone?

"Anything else?" he enquired shortly.

Taking the opportunity, Rick continued. "I want a schedule. I want to know when you're coming so that we can have some normalcy here. And the pick up is outside from now on," he added. "Out on the highway."

Negan raised his eyebrows, looking over his shoulder at Arat before taking another sip of his hot chocolate.

"A pick up is a pick up," he finally agreed, coming a step closer again. "We'll make it every Thursday, first thing in the morning. _Inside_ the walls, but nothing messy. Have your shit ready at the gate, and we won't need to make a mess of my summer home. And I will be here front and centre sticking my dick down your throat every fucking time."

Rick steeled himself for a moment, but he was prepared to accept this for the time being. "Thank you," he said, knowing it was expected. He cleared his throat now, gesturing to the Saviours by the trucks. "Your people are waiting for you."

"Let them wait," Negan said shortly, raising his mug of cocoa. "I'm not finished."

"Take it with you," he said pointedly, wanting him to get out. "My gift."

"Well how fucking generous," Negan said sarcastically, refusing to partake. Instead he took one last sip before coming closer, looking him in the eye as he tipped the remaining cocoa out onto the leg of Rick's jeans. The mug emptied now he simply let it fall, his eyes glinting when it hit the wooden deck and shattered.

"I'll be stopping by unannounced from time to time," Negan said as he walking past him, lowering Lucille and beginning to swing her again. "Returning to favour so to speak."

Glad that he was finally going Rick turned on his heel and watched as the Saviours started filing back into their vehicles. From the looks of it they were satisfied with the days takings, having upended their homes before collecting a rather good tribute of general supplies, solar panels, hardware, token amounts of ammunition and liquor. All of it courtesy of the Kingdom, it had contributed to the smooth handling of another tribute.

Hearing footsteps behind him he glanced up to find Arat about to walk past, having forgotten about her presence there. She didn't draw too close, not wanting to attract the attention of any Saviours who might be looking their way, but she didn't pass him by without saying something.

"He won't be back again for tribute," she murmured. "Sorry 'bout your mug."

Saying nothing in response and keeping his face impassive, Rick simply went the other way, heading to the gate and pulling it wide open. Rosita was there too, and between the two of them they kept the gate clear of Walkers as the Saviours started their engines and slowly departed, taking their sweet time about it. As usual, Negan's vehicle was the last to leave, allowing Rick a glimpse of him sitting up in the passenger seat with his feet on the dash and one hand out the window.

His usual farewell, he had his middle finger raised.

* * *

A/N I hope you enjoyed Rick and Carrie being able to properly reconnect - they're gonna have to enjoy the time they have left together, because that baby is on his way very very soon!

Please do leave a review - they're my only form of payment for my writing, they're so encouraging and make me feel so good. Thanks for reading - cheers!


	64. Chapter 64

Friday, March 13

A much welcomed contrast to the poor weather of the previous days, Friday brought sunshine and a surprisingly warm day. Conditions were prime to spend the day outside, giving Carrie the perfect opportunity to run Judith ragged, to expel her boundless energy before she had to sit in a car for three long hours. Together they were playing in the sand at the Kingdom's playground, while all around them other children played contentedly, watched over by a few parents who were on playground duty. Today, Judith was not the only child whose parents needed to tire out.

"Careful, don't touch your face," she reminded her, catching Judith's sand covered hands as they reached upward. "You don't want sand in your eyes."

Taking care of the problem she straightened Judith's hat for her, but the moment she did Judith leapt up to her feet. Abandoning their sand castle and toys she raced off across the sand, leaving Carrie behind without a second thought. Carrie called out to her a few times, trying to coax her to come back, but exercising her selective hearing Judith didn't hear a word. It left her in a rather unfortunate position, one that she hadn't foreseen when she first sank down into the sand thirty minutes ago.

"Carl," she called out, trying not to sound too pathetic. "Can you help me, please?"

Leaping down from the uppermost level of the playground Carl rushed to her aid, barely taking the time to brush the sand from his hat. He was there in an instant, looking at her in worry as he took her outstretched hands.

"Are you okay?" he asked nervously, looking her up and down. "Is it another contraction?"

"No," she sighed, gripping his hands as he pulled her to her feet. "I just couldn't get up, that's all. Thanks."

"Are you sure? Do you want a drink of water?"

"I'm fine," she assured him, playfully knocking his hat askew as she walked past. Her feet sank in the playground's soft sand, making the simple act of walking more strenuous than it ought to be. "Judy! What's next?"

On the other side of the playground Judith slowed to a stop, looking around only when Carrie called her name a second time. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, her brown curls in array from her rambunctious play, and it seemed that she was far from tired out.

"Ah, there!" Judith called back, pointing up onto the playground. Above her stood two year old Tristan, stamping his feet impatiently as he waited for her.

"Are you playing with Tristan now?" she asked in disappointment, having caught up to her.

With a short nod Judith raced towards the ladder that would take her up, taking a moment to gauge it before boldly climbing without a second thought. She panted as she made her way up, grinning with excitement as Tristan babbled something at her, likely telling her to hurry up.

"Do you want Mommy to help?" she offered, she too panting for breath as she came over, ready to help her up over the top.

"No," Judith said loudly, pleased with herself when she made it to the top unassisted.

Trying not to take that the wrong way, she watched on as Judith set off up the playground with Tristan following, the two toddlers babbling away at one another. Since her arrival yesterday morning Judith had already made an abundance of friends, for the first time ever having met other children of her own age. It had been a shock to her system at first, the idea of interacting with these other kids making her stay close to Carrie for a while, a reaction that she had secretly liked. But ever resilient Judith had adjusted and quickly made friends, and when they put her to bed last night she had yabbered non stop about Tristan and Mimi.

"Rejection hurts, doesn't it."

Carrie smiled as she looked around, finding Tristan's mom Tracey laying on a blanket nearby. With a toddler and a one year old Tracey was often found napping during the day, taking any opportunity she got. A few yards away sleeping in a car seat carrier was her youngest Mimi. Ready for them up on the sidewalk were two suitcases and a travel crib, Tracey and her children being some of the many people who were being evacuated to Oceanside today.

"Yeah, rejection hurts," she commiserated, looking back to Judith again. They had been playing together in the sand for quite some time until Tristan had won her attention and stole her away. The two toddlers stood at the mouth of the slide right now, both looking a little too tentative to go down without some encouragement.

Leaving Tracey to sleep while she could, Carrie panted for breath as she made her way across the sand, seeking the relief of solid ground. Waiting for her on a nearby bench was Maggie and Herschel, they too packed and ready to go as soon as they were summoned, which by now could be at any moment. Elsewhere in the Kingdom people were getting the cars ready, installing children's seats and checking the engines, packing an enormous truck with supplies, drinking water and weapons. Today was no easy endeavour, but travellers like Maggie and Tracey had been tasked only with packing their belongings. As she sank down onto the bench beside Maggie she looked at the suitcase that belonged to Judith, one that held her clothes, books and favourite toys. She too would be going to Oceanside today…but without the rest of her family.

"Any more?" Maggie enquired, using her foot to push Herschel's stroller back and forth.

"I can feel one coming on now," she said, taking a deep breath and trying not to tense up.

"Okay, say when," Maggie said, taking up the small notepad and pen Carrie was still carrying around with her.

"When," she said, breathing out as she felt her belly tightening. The pressure was unlike anything she'd ever felt before, clearly distinct from the Braxton Hicks contractions she'd been feeling for weeks. "How long was it since the last one?"

"Twelve minutes," Maggie answered, looking at her watch. "Good breathing," she complimented.

Taking another deep breath in she tried moving around, certain there was something she could do to relieve the discomfort. She knew that this was only a taste of what was to come, that these contractions were only going to get longer and worse, but she had been trying not to think about that too much. For so long the idea of actually going into labour and giving birth had been something happening in the future, something to worry about later. But here she was in early labour, the middle of March just as Denise had predicted. For all the troubles the baby had given her so far, it was at least punctual.

"Almost forty seconds," Maggie told her, noting it down and then setting the notebook aside. "Well done, your breathing was really good."

Lapping up the praise, for Maggie knew what she was talking about, Carrie took a moment to collect herself. The contractions so far weren't painful yet, but the pressure felt so out of place that she couldn't quite settle herself. It was disconcerting, and she kept touching her belly and waiting for the baby to respond. She could still feel it moving intermittently, telling her that he was okay, but even that she was second guessing. How on earth was he so unconcerned?

The contractions had first started during the night, waking her up from an admittedly light slumber. She had been laying there dozing, uncomfortable from the way Judith had squeezed herself into the bed between she and Rick, somehow taking up an enormous amount of space for a little girl. At first she had thought the discomfort came about from her, from the way her left foot was pressed into the front of her belly, but it quickly became apparent it was something else. With her heart racing she sat bolt upright, hand on her belly as she tried to remember all she had learned from the books and the doctors. In an instant she knew that this was no Braxton Hicks contraction, it was real. Meanwhile Rick slept soundly beside her, not rousing even when the next contraction came thirty minutes later.

"Are you sure it's a real contraction?" he had asked that morning, rubbing his bleary eyes as he lay in bed and watched her walking about the room.

"Yes, I am sure," she said through gritted teeth, more aggravated by him sleeping so soundly than she was by the contraction. She was tired from a night of broken sleep and general discomfort, though this was the nights of her future now.

"It could be a false alarm. Does it actually hurt?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, irritated by both his words and the way he lay so comfortably in bed. "Let me show you how it hurts," she threatened, marching over there and lunging for his crotch.

Getting the hint he scrambled back, using the blankets to defend himself as he apologised, and from there the plans had to change. They had already been forced to settle on a compromise that neither of them were happy with, that Judith was going to the Oceanside and that Rick would stay a few days to help her settle in. But now Judith was going alone, her only family there being those such as Maggie and Michonne. Rick would stay at the Kingdom until the baby was born, as would Carl who so desperately wanted to be there. When the baby was born and the fuss was over they would all go to Oceanside. For a few happy days they would be there together as a family, all five of them…and eventually Rick would have to leave again.

Carrie felt wracked with guilt that they're sending Judith away from her family, like she was being carelessly tossed aside like an afterthought. But she knew rationally that Judith's safety and well being was not an afterthought, that they had been planning every detail for days now…hell, Rick had been planning this for a week. She had to trust that Judith would be okay, that she was resilient enough to cope with another change, because with a new sibling coming along nothing was ever going to be the same.

As their separation became closer and closer Carrie tried to comfort herself, knowing that Judith would be with her family the entire time. She would be staying with Maggie and Enid, and Michonne was joining them for the trip down and spending the night, as were Aaron and Eric. There would be plenty of people that Judith knew and trusted at Oceanside, whereas if she stayed here for the duration of Carrie's labour she really wouldn't get the time and attention she was craving.

"You see that going on up there?"

Following Maggie's gaze, Carrie looked back to the roof of the playground where Carl and Enid were sitting. Without a care or concern the two teens had easily climbed all the way up, ignoring Carrie who implored them to get down, to be careful. Though he had come down to help her up from the sand Carl had just as quickly climbed back up, joining Enid who had been his girlfriend for almost a month now. Apparently unconcerned that they were in broad daylight they were holding hands, though they seemed a little shy to do anything more than that. Just as much as Carl was obsessively watching her as her contractions progressed, so too were she and Maggie watching him.

"They're cute," she complimented, her heart warming at the sight of them. "How far do you think they've gone?"

"Knowing Enid? Not far."

Carrie laughed, agreeing. "Knowing Carl, not far."

She too laughing, Maggie reached into the stroller and lifted Herschel out. Over the last few minutes his grumbles had slowly turned into genuine discontent, and after a quick sniff of his diaper Maggie opened her jacket and bundled him inside, managing to bring him to her breast at the same time as grabbing a blanket to keep him warm. As Herschel quietened and began to nurse Carrie tried not to watch more than a passing glance, even though she was dying for details. Breastfeeding was about to become her reality, and for the first time in her entire pregnancy she was having doubts about it. Was she going to be able to do it? Would her body produce enough to support her baby? Judging by Herschel's gorgeous chubby thighs Maggie had no problem keeping up with him…but would she be able to do the same for her baby?

All too soon she looked up to find Rick approaching, and she knew this was it. This was her last time with Maggie…her last time with Judith.

"Any advice?" she asked, gesturing to the notebook of contractions.

Maggie smiled at her reassuringly, patting her on the hand. "You're going to do just fine. You can do this."

"Still…any advice?"

Maggie considered this for a moment, tucking the blanket around Herschel's feet. "Listen to Brea, listen to your body…and know that when you're absolutely certain you can't do it anymore, you can. You can do it."

"Thanks," she murmured, though she didn't feel like that was very helpful right now. She needed solid tips of advice, a list of things that would make it easier.

"Oh, and Brea will probably offer you a stool softener once it's all over," Maggie said off handedly, standing up with Herschel in her arms. "Take it. _Seriously_."

Now Carrie was satisfied, for that was the kind of actionable tip she was seeking. "Thanks Maggie."

There was a nice moment between the two of them, one where a mother shared reassurance with a mother to be. But the moment it tinged with grief, with the knowledge that Glenn is never coming home to Maggie, that she has to raise their child without him. Is that the future Carrie was about to face? Will she and Maggie be widows together?

"Time to go," Rick said apologetically. "We're ready for you."

His tone was very cordial, as was the way he quickly picked up the travel crib and Maggie's bags, taking them on her behalf. Having already noticed the overly polite interactions between Rick and Maggie she didn't comment, knowing that they were both trying their best. Glenn's death had been hard on both of them, and no doubt Rick felt the same unnecessary sense of guilt just like Daryl did.

"Enid," Maggie called. "It's time to go."

In disappointment the two teens climbed down from the roof of the playground, Carl ushering his sister to go and join Carrie. While Enid came over to help Maggie with the stroller Carl hung back a bit, helping Tracey and the kids with their own bags and travel crib.

"Judy. Come on Judy."

Standing in the middle of the sand Judith was watching Tristan leave, abandoning her in favour of his own mother who was calling to him. In dismay she looked around at Carrie, her lower lip trembling as her eyes brimmed with tears.

"But…more," she called out, trying to bargain. "More."

"Later," Carrie replied, collecting her suitcase and then reaching out her hand. "You can play again later."

With a little more coaxing Judith finally came over, whimpering unhappily even as Carrie bent down and picked her up. It was particularly strenuous to do so, for not only had she forgotten just how heavy Judith was these days, she felt another contraction coming on. Taking note of the time she set off with Judith on her hip and the suitcase rolling along, breathing through the contraction as she comforted her daughter, reminding her that she was going somewhere exciting. Much to her relief Judith's tears subsided quickly, sensing that the atmosphere at the Kingdom had changed. There was a heightened sense of activity now, the change brought into sharp focus when they made their way through Central Park and reached the gates and main driveway.

Waiting for them were five cars, a yellow school bus and the enormous supply truck, and though at first it all seemed disorderly and unorganised, it was clear that everything was under control. Most of the cars were already packed with suitcases and various supplies, people milling around as they waiting for children to make a last minute bathroom stop before getting in, while elsewhere people were already in their seats with the engine runnings. At Rick's direction they followed him to a grey minivan, inside of which were two children's car seats for Judith and Herschel. There seemed to be not a moment to waste, Rick and Eric quickly taking their things and packing them into the small trunk, rearranging it a couple of times to ensure it would all fit.

"You're going to do just fine," Maggie assured her, the two of them somehow managing to share a hug around Judith, her belly and Herschel who was still nursing. "I promise, it's all worth it. Every contraction."

"Thanks Maggie. I needed to hear that."

"I know," she smiled warmly, her gaze turning to Judith next. "And she's going to be fine too. She's going to have so much fun, aren't you Judy."

"Yeah," Judith murmured, not completely paying attention.

While Maggie stepped away and sniffed Herschel's diaper in exasperation Carrie turned her attention to the others, taking a few moments to say goodbye to those like Michonne and Aaron who were accompanying the convoy down to Oceanside. Elsewhere she managed to catch of glimpse of the shy kiss goodbye between Enid and Carl, watching curiously from the corner of her eye.

"Are you ready?" Rick enquired, his hand touching her lower back.

It seemed they had waited as long as they could. All around them the cars were ready to depart, engines running and heaters warming the occupants, while Judith was one of the last people to be ready. With a short nod she held Judith close one more time, kissing her cheek and holding her lips there. She had missed her so much over the last two weeks, and being reunited with her yesterday had been like the last piece of the puzzle that meant she was finally free of the Saviours. Now she had to say goodbye, for Judith's own good.

"We'll see you on your birthday," she promised, kissing her once more before passing her to Rick. "In four days."

"Four," Judith repeated, likely not comprehending what any of it meant.

While Carl too came forward and said goodbye to his sister Carrie took a moment to herself, relieved to find that she actually felt better about this than she had expected. She thought she would be a mess when this moment came, that she would cry and make it harder on Judith, but she was keeping it together admirably. Rick had been right to insist on this, that Judith would have a more enjoyable time in Oceanside than she would here at the Kingdom while Carrie was in labour. She'd still be with her family, and she could enjoy the thrill of discovering something completely new, not to mention the abundance of other children she could play with.

Allowing Carrie to give their daughter one last kiss, Rick went to the back of the minivan and then helped her into the seat, and Aaron coaxing her in with some toys she went willingly. It warmed Carrie's heart to see that Rick too was a little reluctant to say goodbye, that he wasn't always as stoic as he might seem. He had hoped to take Judith down there himself, to spend the night and help her settle in with her dad around, but he couldn't split himself in two.

The moment Judith was safely secured in her seat she looked up in outrage, realising that she was stuck there again. Though she gave Rick a most disapproving glare he salvaged the moment by blowing a loud, wet kiss on her cheek, one that made her shriek in laughter. When he stepped out of the car Carrie couldn't help but move into the doorway, looking inside at the people going with her. While Aaron was subjecting himself to three hours of entertaining a two year old, Maggie, Enid and Herschel were crammed in the very back, but not one complaint came from any of them.

"Maggie, make sure she drinks enough water ," she requested, checking that Judith's water bottle was in her back pack. "Sometimes she gets crabby because she's thirsty."

"We will," Maggie assured her, ever patient.

"She's going to be fine," Aaron said. "She's going to have a lot more fun than you."

"Yeah, that's for sure," she muttered, leaning into the back and kissing Judith one more time. "I love you, Judy."

Though she said something back that held a similar inflexion of tone, Judith's attention was mainly focused on the book Aaron was holding, expectantly waiting for him to start reading it to her. Not taking it to heart she simply stepped back and returned to Rick's side, but he moved forward and gave Judith one last kiss before sliding the minivan door shut.

As Eric started the engine Rick and Carrie retreated up onto the pavement, watching on as the convoy of cars got started. Leading the group was Rosita and Michonne, while in the centre Dianne and Colton were driving the enormous supply truck. Cars of families fleeing the war would drive between them, while bringing up the rear were two more cars filled with people who were going to provide protection for the journey, and for their stay. She looked out the gates and took note of the Walkers lingering out there, not perturbed by their presence even though they were close. In a world of uncertainty and chaos, at least some things never changed.

"Hey Carrie," Tara called, looking out the rear window as her car began to approach where she stood. "We left something for you in your room. It's for you, not the baby. Got it?"

Carrie smiled, touched by the gesture. "The baby's got enough crap," she assured her, waving as they passed by. "Thank you."

"If it's a girl, Tara's a good name!"

She chuckled in amusement, but her merriment died down at the sight of a small hand rising from the back seat, someone in the back quite clearly making a rude gesture. "Did you see that?" she asked, looking at Rick. "Someone just flipped us the bird."

"That was Rachel, and I think it was for me."

"Oh," Carrie said in understanding, watching as the final cars left the safety of the Kingdom. "The stowaway?"

"That's her. She's going back whether she likes it or not."

As the gates closed there were a few minutes in which everyone lingered, most of them wondering what to do next now that the task that had occupied them for the last forty eight hours was now complete. The only thing to do now was wait for Dianne and Colton to return that evening, to convey the safe arrival of all their people. Until then, the war efforts would once again take priority, and already there was talk of who would be joining Eugene in manufacturing ammunition.

"Oh…" Carrie sighed, feeling a contraction approaching. She looked around for somewhere to sit down, but with no where close she instead reached out and took Rick's hand to steady herself.

"Another one?" he asked, sounding apprehensive.

"Yeah," she nodded, lifting his hand and looking at his watch. She needed to time it, and as she swayed her hips she tried to recall how long the last had been, needing to write that down too.

The discomfort grew and grew until it finally peaked, the tension in her belly holding strong before receding. Even though it wasn't yet too painful the feeling left her unsettled and anxious, and she gripped Rick's hand a moment longer before taking out her notebook and writing it down.

"Do you want to go back to the room?" he offered, reaching for her hand now that she had finished writing. "We could get the water going in the pool if you like. A bath might help?"

Not yet ready to retire to their room she shook her head. Already Brea was getting things ready there, bringing in the inflatable pool that Chloe had recommended and preparing everything they would need over the coming hours.

"Let's go for a walk," she suggested, squeezing his hand as she set off. "The weather's too nice to go inside."

She could tell he wasn't completely on board with the suggestion, that he would have preferred to safely cocoon her inside where she would be most comfortable, but she was the one calling the shots today. Still, it was nice to know that he too seemed unsettled by the onset of labour, that something had actually rattled him. The last few days he had always been so calm and level headed, and while she knew it was an effort on his part to comfort her it was equally comforting to know that he was in the same boat as her in many respects.

Walking hand in hand they made their way through Central Park, disheartened to note the atmosphere was significantly more subdued now that all of the children and their parents had left for Oceanside. Activities like tending to the animals and gardens were still underway, but were significantly overshadowed by newer tasks such as maintaining firearms, sorting scrap metal and shell casings to be reused. Some would be taken to the small workshop where Eugene and his team were manufacturing ammunition, while most of the rest would go to the Hilltop to be melted down and turned into brand new weapons. Knives, spears, machetes…the allies would not be short handed in the coming fight.

Sitting at one of the tables sorting shells was Daryl, his head bowed as he rummaged through a cardboard box and used touch rather than sight to find the different sizes. Standing on the other side of the table Lana was going about a different tact, standing up and peering into the cardboard box, rummaging through it with both hands and quickly collecting dozens of casing in a particular size. They seemed to be talking quietly with one another, Daryl's shoulders moving as he laughed at something she said. Curious, Carrie slowed her pace so that she could watch them from afar. When she had learned that Daryl was staying at the Kingdom to continue his recovery she had been relieved, but when she learned Lana too was staying she had been intrigued. There was no denying that although they cared for one another deeply they didn't exactly have a rock solid relationship, and in a few months time they'd be parents.

"Come on now," Rick murmured, tugging her hand and making her resume the former pace. "Don't be snooping on them."

"They're in a public place, it's not snooping," she retorted, smiling to herself. After all that had happened to them it would have been easy for Lana and Daryl to turn away from one another, to put things like the pregnancy aside for the foreseeable future, but it was nice to see they were making an effort to pick things up again. "Has he told you anything?"

Rick chuckled under his breath, looking at her affectionately. "You trying to gossip with me? I ain't in your book club."

"Rick…come on. Has he told you anything?"

"Only that she's trying to convince him to quit smoking."

"Good," she said vehemently, she too detesting that habit.

Rick just chuckled again. "Can you see Daryl giving up smoking? I can't."

"Stranger things have happened. You quit again."

"I had excellent incentive," he reminded her, squeezing her hand as they turned the corner. "You must recall how you incentivised me."

"I sure do," she smiled, despite feeling another contraction coming on. "It was our first visit back to the RV in months. At least we didn't break the dining table that time."

As the contraction grew she continued walking, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. All the while Rick kept asking if she was alright, if she wanted to sit down and rest, and though it was sweet that kind of fuss would get old very quickly. Fortunately that one seemed to pass quickly, or perhaps it was the walking that made it feel faster.

"There's still a conversation we need to have," she reminded him, writing down the time and duration in her note book. "I'm not letting you do to me what you did to poor Lori."

"What?" he asked defensively, surprised that Lori had come up in conversation.

"Three days Carl was without a name. That's not happening to this baby. Come on, we have to narrow down some more names."

Though he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief that he wasn't on the hook for something, he didn't completely relax. "You first."

"Alright. For a girl, I'm on board with Alexandria. Ally for short."

"What happened to Meredith? That damn name has been on our refrigerator for five months now."

"Is Meredith a contender?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Fine," she retorted, passing the notebook to him to carry.

"What about Miles for a boy? Is that still blacklisted?"

"It's a unit of measurement."

"It's a perfectly fine name."

"No."

Reaching an impasse they both wisely chose to let the conversation falter, for despite his track record she had no doubt their son would be promptly named. At this thought she reminded herself to watch her pronouns, to not accidentally let _he_ slip during her labour. Enjoying the sun they made their way past all of the other school buildings towards the football field at the rear of the school, Carrie wanting to see the livestock kept there. But when they passed the children's playground she felt her heart aching…it was starting to hit her that Judith was gone again. The contractions had served as a useful distraction, but now that her mind was unoccupied again she felt it wandering once more.

"I miss her already," she said quietly, not needing to clarify.

By her side Rick gave a heavy sigh. "Me too," he assured her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Just remember, she's not going to miss us one bit. She'll be too busy."

"I hope so."

"She's going to drive Aaron crazy. She'll make him read to her the whole trip down. Still miss her?"

"A little less now," she admitted. "Do you think she really understands that the baby's coming?"

He was quiet for a moment, which was not reassuring. "She'll adapt. All kids do."

"I hope so," she murmured, struggling to imagine what life would be like in as little as a week's time.

Before she knew it she would truly be a mother, she'd be living at Oceanside with a newborn, a toddler and a teenager, meanwhile Rick would be back here, preparing to go to war. Still trying not to think about that she cast her mind elsewhere, letting go of Rick's hand and looping her arm around his waist instead. They walked closer together now, the touch of their bodies encouraging him to press a kiss to her cheek as they walked, but a few minutes later a contraction came yet again. Still minutes apart there was no urgency, and the pain was bearable, yet she took the opportunity to lean on him for strength. When he brought her into his arms she readily put her head against his shoulder as she breathed out, enjoying the way he stroked her belly as the contraction slowly passed.

"What does it feel like?"

She took a moment to consider this, trying to describe it in a way he might be able to imagine. "Strange. Like someone's pushing on my belly, but pulling it at the same time."

When she pulled away she felt his hand stroke her belly one last time, but as if he sensed what she needed he gave her some space, simply taking her hand again when she reached out for his. They resumed their slow walk around the Kingdom, passing by many other residents who shared their excitement for the impending birth. As the hours passed Carl made frequent appearances, replenishing her water and generally fussing over her, but each time he was dismissed from duty it was with a look of relief on his face.

Every hour felt like it stretched on for ten, but somehow they made it through the day, and when the sky darkened and brought a chill to the air they were forced to turn in for the night. But it seemed like that was the catalyst for things to pick up the pace, for when she came inside and tried to rest her contractions suddenly became longer in length and closer together, and after over twelve hours of bearable pain she was now in agony. It felt like someone had reached inside her and grabbed hold of her organs, that they were cruelly twisting and yanking them, but then relief came as the pain faded away. She was starting to feel shell shocked, taken aback by how bad it was.

It seemed she wasn't the only one who was becoming shell shocked, for the first time ever she had seen Rick at a complete loss for what to do with himself. He might already be a father of two, but this was the first time a child of his had been born without a caesarean. Never before had he been through the whole labour process, and she knew he felt useless completing the tasks allocated to him. His role for now to to offer encouragement and attend to her every whim, of which there were many. Rub her back, get a hot compress - no, a cold compress, bring water, find a hair tie but not the blue one, more water, rub her back again but then stop…she sure was putting him through his paces.

As the hours passed she knew she was becoming short tempered with him, seemingly bothered by his mere presence at her side even though she craved his comfort. One moment she wanted him there rubbing her back, needing to hear his voice and words of encouragement…five minutes later it was _Shut up. Stop touching me. Go away_. But to his credit he seemed not to be taking any of it personally, simply leaving her be as required and then coming back the moment she called for him again.

Presently she was leaning over the back of the couch, her hips swaying form side to side as she worked herself through another contraction, trying to get her breathing right while at the same time not make too much noise. Daryl and Lana were in the room next door most likely trying to have a quiet night in, and Carl was looking increasingly pale and worried, no doubt regretting his request he be there when his sibling was born. As attentive as Rick, Carl was seated on the couch in front of her holding a laptop up to her eye level. They were halfway through season one of Gilmore Girls, one of the many gifts Tara had helped organise for her, and not once had he voiced a complaint about the choice of entertainment. Thanks to Tara she was well equipped throughout not only her labour, but the weeks and months of sedentary breastfeeding ahead of her. DVDs, hand cream and lip balm, snacks, beautiful new pyjamas, a new coffee mug, socks, scented candles, three books and all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls.

"What's the time?" she grunted to no one in particular. She had removed her watch and jewellery when the contractions had become painful, annoyed by the way her wedding rings hurt when she clenched her hands.

"Just after seven thirty," Rick answered.

"Fucking hell…" she groaned, moaning low in her belly as she felt another contraction coming on.

"You're doing great," he praised, reaching for her. "Ju-"

Impatient for no discernible reason she batted his hand away, closing her eyes and lowering her head as the contraction grew again. She tried to remember everything she had prepared for, the breathing exercises Denise and Maggie had helped her practice, the advice Brea had given ever so recently, and somehow she managed to fumble through the contraction. As it faded she took a couple of deep breaths, feeling lightheaded. She had been in this exact position leaning over the couch for an hour now, and she desperately wanted to lay down and rest, but she couldn't compel her feet to move. It had been going on for hours now, the first contractions starting at three o'clock that morning…when was it going to be over? When could she finally rest?

"Carl, pause it," she instructed, pushing herself upright and opening her eyes. "I need to walk."

While Carl lowered the laptop and set it aside she glanced at Rick, but she didn't reach for him. Instead she looked into the far corner of the room where Brea was in the rocking chair quietly reading a book. Since labour began that morning she had been around intermittently, checking in and providing reassurance, but when they turned in for the night she had stayed close, bringing a book as she too settled in for a long night ahead. For the most part she was leaving Carrie alone, giving them all space and privacy until she was asked for.

"Brea…can you come with me?"

Without delay she set aside her book and got to her feet. "Do you want to walk outside, or in?"

"Just the halls," she said softly.

Before she could even think about moving she felt another contraction starting, this one coming on sooner than she had expected, and so she grabbed at Rick's arm. Without the couch to support herself she clung to him now, resting her head on his shoulder and giving a low moan as she moved her hips back and forth. The pressure was growing exponentially, getting worse and worse until she started to think that something had to be terribly wrong, that this wasn't normal. She could feel his breath on the top of her head, could feel his chest rumbling as he tried to comfort her, encouraging her to keep going, that she could do it. When it was over she panted for breath, still feeling shell shocked from every contraction, and so she took a moment to collect herself. It was nice standing there with him, feeling safe with his arms around her and his voice in her ear…why had she ever rejected his comfort before?

As quickly as that last thought occurred, she pulled away and let Brea help her into a pair of sneakers. Taking her denim jacket too she cleared her throat and was ready to go, but she waved Rick off and told him to stay. Her steps were hesitant at first, her legs feeling like jelly that wouldn't respond to her brain, but her body did not fail her. With Brea by her side she slowly shuffled out of the room and into the hall, already starting to feel better as the blood flowed through her body.

"How am I doing?" she asked, needing to hear praise from someone other than Rick.

"You're doing great," Brea assured her, sounding like she meant it. "For now just keeping walking, keep moving those hips like Beyonce."

At this she laughed, enjoying the way the sound felt and the brief rush of amusement. When the next contraction came she took Brea's hand to steady herself, growing embarrassed when her moans echoed around the hallway. But as more contractions came and passed she felt her embarrassment fading, suddenly not caring in the slightest who had to listen to her labouring through the pain. Though she was growing weary for the next forty minutes she walked the halls non stop, repeatedly passing the door to her room that had been left ajar. She could imagine Rick lurking just inside the door, anxiously waiting for either her return or for her to call for him. The image in her mind made her laugh out loud, feeling a rush of affection for him.

But affection wasn't the only thing she was feeling a rush of. Slowing to a stop she looked down with a frown, and though she couldn't see her lower half she sure could feel the warm trickle running down her right leg. It felt surprisingly pleasant, and though at first she worried she had peed herself her heart filled with elation when she realised what it was.

"I think my waters have broken," she whispered, smiling as she looked up at Brea.

Sitting at the foot of the stairs to the first floor Brea looked up in interest, seemingly pleased. "Oh? Tell me what's happened."

"Well, I…" she started, trying to articulate it. "I'm leaking."

"That's great," Brea smiled, getting up and coming over to her. She turned on her flashlight and shone it on her lower half, her smile growing. "Give me a little cough."

She did as instructed, her heart soaring as she felt a distinct gush between her legs. Unable to help herself she burst into laughter, overjoyed by the progress she had made. "Rick!" she called out, laughing again when he appeared in the doorway barely a second later. "Bring a towel!"

"What is it?" he asked, already starting towards her.

"My waters broke," she laughed, waving him back. "I need a towel, please."

Though it was nothing like what happened in the movies, Carrie continued laughing as she looked at the small puddle of fluid building around her right foot, glad that the floors were a school standard linoleum rather than carpet. Her laughter was quite disconcerting to Rick who had joined them with the requested towel, but when she clutched it between her legs and started waddling back to their room he too managed to see the funny side of things. With every step she took her right sneaker squelched loudly, and every laugh brought with it another small gush of fluid that only made her laugh even more.

"It's actually happening," she beamed, touching her belly as Rick helped her towards the bathroom. "I can't believe it."

"Neither can I," he agreed. "Nine months wasn't very long."

They made it into the bathroom just as Daryl was coming out of one of the stalls, his eyes widening in alarm when he looked at her. For the most part he had largely kept to himself that day, having made an appearance only to ask what food Chef ought to bring them. But though he seemed to recoil a little upon seeing the state she was in when he saw their mirth he relaxed.

"I know Rick's funny lookin', but you ain't gotta piss yourself laughin'."

Having been helping her out of her sneakers Rick rolled his eyes, casually tossing the one soaked in amniotic fluid Daryl's way. He dodged it with a smirk, but he wasn't completely unsympathetic to them.

"Carl's holed up in there," he said quietly, jerking his head back towards his own room. "Reckon he just needs a break."

Carrie managed a chuckle, but as the feeling of a contraction started to grow on her the amusement was short lived. As the pressure started she grabbed onto the toilet stall to brace herself, moving her hips and bending her knees in search of relief that never came. The pain only grew worse, eliciting a yell from deep inside her chest that echoed around the tiny bathroom, replaying her pain until it faded again. When she opened her eyes again she was unsurprised to find that although Daryl had swiftly disappeared back into his room Rick was still there by her side, one hand around her back to help steady her, and the other pushing the hair back off her face.

She slowly realised that she felt rather hot now, that a sweat had broken out along her hairline. Grateful for him she let go of the toilet stall and leaned into his body, using his strength as she tried to recover. It felt like that one had been worse than the others, that relief had been further away…this was the price to pay for her labour speeding up. It had to get worse before it got better.

"Brea?" she said quietly, calling to her.

"I'm here," she assured her, touching her hand. "Amniotic fluid is clear, which is good."

"I want you to check the baby."

Resting with her eyes closed she listened to the sound of Brea fumbling around with something, and a few moments later felt the transducer of a small ultrasound pressed against her belly. It was much the same as the one Carson had used on her at the Sanctuary, a device he used to check on the baby the day she had lost control of herself and fought against Laura, David and Dwight. Pushing any thoughts of the Sanctuary out of her mind she instead focused on the rhythmic sound of her baby's heartbeat, relieved to find that it was no different to any other time she had heard it.

"The baby's happy," Brea said kindly, letting her and Rick listen a few moments more. "Let's get you cleaned up."

At her agreement she felt Rick press a kiss to the top of her head, gently prying her away from him. "I'll get some water and clean clothes."

She waited for him to come back, but when he offered to step out and give her some privacy she refused, not wanting him to go. With his help she slowly managed to undress, stopping halfway through as another contraction came on, and when it faded it suddenly felt that much harder to keep her head up, to keep going. She was exhausted, her body starting to feel weak and shaky as she stood half naked in the bathroom while Brea checked oner her again. Tears of frustration fell when Brea told her she was only four centimeters dilated, that after going through this for almost eighteen hours she wasn't even halfway there.

"Let's keep you moving," Brea suggested. "Maybe try the gym ball."

Carrie shook her head, refusing even the suggestion. "I want to lay down," she said shortly, going back into the bedroom. She had cleaned up and dressed in a set of the plush pyjamas from her gift basket, and there was only two things on her mind right now. "And I want some gas. Now."

"You said you wanted to wait for the gas," Rick reminded her, pulling back the blankets on the bed. "You wanted it to be a last resort."

Her response to this reminder was a snarl, for there was no other way to tell him what a _stupid fucking idiot_ he was. What she wanted before labour and during labour were two very different things. Starting to resent his mere presence she staggered into the bed and sat there on her knees for a few moments, trying to figure out how she needed to lay down. Still attending to her every whim Rick passed each pillow she gestured for, while in the background Brea was bringing over the canister of nitrous oxide.

There was a crinkling sound as she laid down, someone having preemptively prepared the bed with plastic beneath the sheets, but she barely gave it a second thought. The next cruel contraction was coming on again, the time in between each becoming unfairly short. Her moan of pain turned into a cry, her back arching as she tried to push herself upright, certain that she would find relief if she could just get the right position. But her strength failed, leaving her trembling and writhing on the bed as the pain intensified.

"You're doing really well," Rick said quietly, offering the standard encouragement that seemed to have less and less effect as the night wore on. "Just keep panting, you can do it."

She didn't have the breath to say anything, and even when the contraction eased she could barely raise her head. Instead she burrowed down into the bedding, grateful when someone slipped a pillow between her knees and behind her back. Any other time it would have been uncomfortable to be laying half on her front and half on her side, her legs splayed out in different directions, but she had found her position and she wasn't moving.

Finally the relief she needed came to her, and she gave a low whimper as she felt Brea slipping something into her left hand. She fumbled as she brought it to her mouth and slipped it between her lips, taking a huge gulp of the gas that took instant effect. Her body began to relax, the tension leaving her muscles and her head becoming pleasantly at ease. For a few moments she simply lay there taking it all in, breathing deeply as she felt her sense of self coming back to her. She raised a shaky hand into the air and waved it about, grateful when Rick seemed to get the hint.

Taking her hand in his he gave it a comforting squeeze, and at her request he lay down with her, squeezing himself onto the bed behind her. At the same time she felt the blankets lifting, Brea slipping something warm behind her lower back that stayed in place now Rick was there with her. For the first time in hours she started to feel peaceful, finally able to find reprieve.

"Do you remember what we talked about?" Brea enquired, her voice soft and gentle. "The gas?"

"Yes," she grunted, but for the life of her she couldn't recall the conversation.

"Breathe in at the start of the contraction or the gas will miss the peak of it," she coached. "Breathe in slow and deep, and then pant it out."

"Got it," she replied, pulling the mouth piece out. She felt more collected now, able to handle herself.

"Tell me if you feel woozy or nauseas."

She nodded to acknowledge she had heard, but she felt too weak to do much else. Instead she lay there and tried to rest, her hand still clutching Rick's and hoping that he didn't go. Having forgotten Brea's instructions about the gas her next contraction found her writhing in pain, pulling at Rick's hand to try and bring him closer and closer. In the back of her mind was an irrational fear that he might abandon her, even though she knew rationally he wouldn't leave her side for even a moment…but what if he did?

She couldn't let go of his hand, and his words of comfort only made her more scared that he was going to leave. "Please don't go," she whimpered, tightening her hand around his. "Stay…"

He too tightened his hand, squeezing back. "I'm not going anywhere," he said firmly. "Where do you think I'm going?"

"…just, stay…please stay."

"I'm not going anywhere," he repeated, squeezing her hand back as her next contraction grew. "Breathe in now, you can do it. Breathe in and then pant."

She did as he told her, gulping in the gas with great, deep breaths before somehow managing to pull the mouth piece away. Still she felt everything, but while it felt as equally intense as before it also felt a little muted, like it might be happening to someone else instead of her. Panting out a few breaths she took another gulp of gas before repeating the process, her body rocking back and forth.

"Tell me about your job from before," Rick asked a short while later, taking advantage of the brief reprieve. He was still there with her, gently stroking her hair.

"You know what I did," she said with a bite of impatience. She wanted to rest, not talk.

"You were an Account Director," he acknowledged. "You worked in advertising…but you've never really told me what you did."

 _Is now really the fucking time?_ she thought to herself, frustrated with him. When she answered it was with annoyance at first, but as the words came out she felt a long lost spark of excitement. "I was director of our property division."

"What kind of property?"

"Commercial and residential…every kind."

"What did you do for them?"

"Advertising," she said shortly, but then the explanation followed as her memory served up the day to day work. "Newspaper ads, internet listings, websites, flyers, signs, events…we did a lot of bespoke branding for apartment buildings and developments."

"How many people worked under you?"

"Fourteen. No…fifteen."

"Do you remember their names?"

She scoffed at this, but she smiled nonetheless. "Of course I remember their names."

"Go on then."

She wanted to snarl at him, to question his timing, but instead she answered him. "Simone, Adrian, Toni, Gen, Ed, Eddie, Edmund, Craig, Angus…Susie."

"That's only ten."

She had no response to this, too focused on gulping in the gas as she moved up onto her knees. The heat pack slipped away from her lower back, replaced by Rick's hands as he put them under her shirt and rubbed her hips, applying more pressure when she grunted at him. Needing it desperately she let out a loud moan, feeling the sound reverberating inside her chest and down into her belly. She moaned again as the pain continued to grow and worsen, her heart faltering and starting to race when it didn't let up.

"What's the time?" she mumbled when it was all over. She was frozen in place, stuck on her hands and knees as she tried to recover.

"Just after ten."

She swore under her breath, grabbing pillows and stacking them in front of her so she could lean forward. "Not yet…not yet…"

"Not yet?" Rick asked, draping the blankets around her as he continued to rub her back.

"It can't come until after midnight," she muttered, wishing he hadn't heard her. "It's Friday the thirteenth."

As she knew he would, Rick scoffed at her comment, but a moment later realised she was serious. "I didn't know you were superstitious."

"I'm not."

"Then what's wrong with Friday the thirteenth?"

"It's just…" she muttered, wishing he would drop it. Negan had jokingly commented that he had placed a bet on the date of birth, that he was hoping for Black Friday. "It's just not the date I wanted."

Apparently getting the hint he conceded. "Fourteenth of March has a nice ring to it."

She managed to rest a little more before the next contraction came, but even her new position kneeling over the pillows did little to help ease the pain. All she could do was clutch that damn mouth piece, breathing in the gas as though her life depended on it. Every contraction overwhelmed her, as did the complete lack of control she had over what was happening to her body. The pain felt unnatural, making her paranoid that something was terribly wrong, for surely this couldn't be normal. It was only going to get worse, and how could anyone survive this…how could any baby survive this?

In spite of her desire to close her eyes and lay her head onto the pillow she found herself staggering back to her feet, legs quivering as she leant against Rick for support. She was trying not to hurt his shoulder, instead draping her arms around his other side, but even in the height of her next contraction she felt him flinching, trying to move her weight without disturbing her.

"I'm sorry," she whined, moving away and staggering over to her former position over the back of the couch. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about me," he implored, following her every step of the way and putting his hands back on her hips. At her encouragement he kept rubbing, applying more and more pressure. "Just focus on you…think about the baby. It's going to be here soon."

Rocking her hips back and forth she tried to keep the end goal in mind, but finally having her baby in her arms felt like it was never going to happen. This pain was never going to end, it would just keep getting worse and worse until she couldn't take it anymore, until she gave up.

"You can do this," Rick implored, speaking as though he could hear her every thought. "I know you can."

Letting out a long moan she moved her feet about as she sought relief, for though she was between contractions right now there was a lingering pressure low in her pelvis that would not abate. One hand clutched the mouth piece while the other was curled into the back of the couch, her fingernails digging into the durable fabric. She breathed deeply, trying to visualise the moment that it was over, the moment Maggie told her would make it all worth it, but it seemed so unattainable.

Without thinking she looked over her shoulder at Rick, watching at him as he continued offering words of comfort. Suddenly it occurred to her that she hadn't properly looked at him in hours, her eyes either being closed or her head bowed. Like her he seemed tired and spent from the day, but his face reminded her of what he had been through during the time they were separated. He was tired from more than the day of supporting her through labour, but from life itself. Though not bruised anymore his mouth was still swollen from where Negan had hit punched him, his hair a little more flecked with grey. But in spite of those things and the war they faced she could still feel the hope in his eyes, she could see his excitement for the birth of their child, a child only she could bring into the world.

"I'm glad you're here," she whispered, stating the obvious. "I was ready to do it on my own…but I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad too." Ceasing his massage for just a moment he moved closer to her, sharing with her a soft kiss. "I wouldn't miss this for anything."

Conscious that had things not worked out in their favour he would have been forced to miss this, Carrie chose not to say that out loud. Instead she tilted her face a little, ushering him back for another kiss, but they couldn't linger in the moment. Nothing was going to stop this baby from coming, and there was no reprieve from labour for them to keep talking.

"I love you," she gasped before taking a huge gulp gas. The contraction took hold, her belly tightening and her insides feeling like they were being twisted about, but she managed to get it all out. "I love you so much."

He had moved behind her again, his hands applying pressure and encouraging her to move about, not that she needed to be reminded. "I love you too," he replied softly. "And I'm grateful."

"For what?" she managed to ask, her voice strained and her jaw clenched.

"For the family we've made," he answered, his words trailing off as he reminded her to pant. "Even before the baby, we made a family together."

As the contraction faded she whimpered in relief, her body sagging back down against the couch. Her hair was damp with sweat, body trembling in shock as she tried to collect herself, to say something equally meaningful back to him. But her mind just couldn't compute, couldn't find the words to really tell him what he meant to her, what their family meant. She felt fuzzy, her mind torn between wanting to know how much longer this was going to last and concentrating on finding the right words for him.

"I can do this…I can do it."

Her words came out as a menacing growl, nothing like a proud declaration that for him and their family she would do anything, but it would have to be enough. She couldn't think, mind and body too focused on survival to really articulate what she felt, but Rick seemed to understand. Repeating the mantra back to her he pressed a kiss to her cheek, praising her for the strength that she could feel waning already.

One way or another this baby was coming, and she was the only one who could help it into the world.

* * *

A/N I hope you enjoyed the first part of Carrie's labour - labour and birth can happen in so many different ways and sequences, there's never a set formula for how these things play out, so I'm generally giving Carrie the experiences that I know, and that are common to most people giving birth. I'm trying to be descriptive as it's a first person point of view, but I'm not going into minute detail of every moment.

Next chapter the baby is finally here! Please read and review :-) Cheers


	65. Chapter 65

Well, it's finally here! I hope you enjoy the chapter, and that it was worth the wait!

* * *

It was a little past three o'clock in the morning, and they went onward with Brea's assurance that it wouldn't be much longer. At eight centimetres dilated she was on the home stretch, the baby almost ready to be born, she just had to get through a little bit more, though as each contraction came and went it got harder and harder for her to persevere. She had sought relief in the warmth of an inflatable pool, needing something else to relieve her pain when she had to set the gas aside after it made her nauseas.

In his eyes she had been incredible throughout, regardless of whether or not she felt the same. He couldn't even begin to fathom the pain she was in, but the sheer strength and determination she showed had him in absolute awe of her. Throughout it all she had been drawing on him for strength and support, but he was seeing now that she was infinitely stronger than him. Nothing he'd ever suffered and overcome before seemed comparable to what Carrie was enduring for their child.

Having found what was most comfortable for her she was on her knees leaning over the edge of the pool, her head turned to the side and resting in the crook of his elbow. Her hairline damp with sweat he pushed wisps of hair off her face, cupping water in his hands and trailing it over her shoulders.

"You're doing great," he praised. "It's almost over."

Either his encouragement had little effect or she could barely hear him, but she gave no response other than a low moan from deep inside her. As the pain grew she drew a breath and cried out in misery, her hands clutching at him and her fingertips digging in. He felt completely powerless to help her, unable to do anything other than hold her and repeat words of encouragement that surely weren't helping. Worried he wasn't doing enough he kept looking to Brea, observing the way she stood in the pool with Carrie and rubbed large circles into her back. Every now and then she would give him a knowing nod of the head, silently telling him that he was doing the right thing.

Panting for breath, Carrie pushed herself up and reached one arm around his shoulder, trying to pull herself further upright. Helping her, and not caring that she was sopping wet he let her embrace him properly, moving himself right up against the pool's edge. Her damp hair rested in the crook of his neck, her free hand flailing about aimlessly until he realised what it was she wanted. The canister of nitrous oxide was beside him, and at her request he grabbed the mouth piece and passed it to her.

While she gulped it in as though her life depended on it he clenched his teeth, ignoring the discomfort in his shoulder from where his Kevlar vest had caught a bullet at Oceanside. It was hurting now that he was supporting her weight against his body, but there was no way he would raise a complaint. The contraction was beginning to ease, but before he could feel body body slump against him in relief another one came, affording her no reprieve in between.

"Don't go," she was moaning, her arm tightening around his shoulder. "Please…stay with me."

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured her, and not for the first time that night. "I'm not leaving you, I promise."

Any response she wanted to make was overwhelmed by her cry of pain, the sound of which made his heart ache. He could feel the way her body tensed as the contraction peaked, and the way she relaxed as he reminded her to breathe through it, encouraging her. But it was getting to be too much, her weight against him growing as she became weaker with every contraction. She felt limp, and he was the only thing holding her up while the contractions rolled in to one another.

There was a quiet knock at the door, Carl announcing his return with with another shopping cart carrying two enormous pots. He had been summoned from his place sleeping on Daryl's couch, now tasked with the responsibility of keeping them in a steady supply of hot water for the pool. Having found Carrie's labour to be too much for him he had called it quits a few hours ago, but hadn't hesitated when tasked with the role of boiling water. Perhaps having had time to collect himself he seemed to be in better spirits, and he was making a point of averting his gaze even as he helped Brea pour the water in. By now Carrie had discarded all of her clothing, practically tearing it off the moment she sank into the hot water, though Rick had the suspicion that she couldn't care less who saw her naked right now.

"Carl, we need some more ice."

He nodded, his gaze flicking to Carrie for a moment. "Another popsicle too?"

"Carrie?" he asked, jostling her arm when she didn't answer. "Can you eat another popsicle?"

Her response was an unintelligible moan, one that soon turned into a cry of pain as her contraction peaked. Wisely hedging his bets he give Carl a nod. "Cherry."

He was breathless when he returned from the kitchens, already opening the wrapper of the electrolyte popsicle Chef was keeping in the kitchen freezer for her. Carrie took it wordlessly, the popsicle beginning to melt over her fingers until she remembered to actually eat it, but it seemed the task was too much for her. Carl left again, taking the now empty pots back to the kitchen to repeat the process of boiling more water.

Water spilled over the side of the tub when Carrie suddenly lurched, leaving Rick's jeans sopping wet, but she neither noticed not cared. She was crying now, her chest heaving with great sobs, and she clutched his shirt so tightly he imagined the fabric straining at the seams. All words of comfort fell on deaf ears as the pain became too much, and he wished again and again that he could take her pain away, that he could do it himself so that she didn't have to.

"I need to stop," she breathlessly cried, barely able to get the words out. She dropped the popsicle in favour of the gas, her hand reaching aimlessly until he passed into her. "P-please make it stop."

"It will be over soon," he told her, repeating this again and again. His heart was racing again, anxiety for her making him feel like he might be sick. "You're doing great, just a little longer."

"I need to stop now," she begged, her breaths coming in short gasps. "Now."

As the contraction peaked so too did her anguish, her cries feeling louder and more powerful than ever. When it began to ease it left her trembling and disoriented, her throat hoarse and mouth dry, but before she could relax it started again. She lurched and sent water over the edge a second time, writhing about but refusing to let go of him. In her free hand she clutched the mouth piece for the gas, holding it against her mouth and desperately breathing it in, but when it brought no relief her hand fell away.

"I can't do this," she whimpered, her voice breaking as the contraction peaked. "Please…listen to me."

"You can," he emphasised, reaching up and pushing her hair back form her face. "You're already doing it, you just have to go a little longer."

"You're almost there Carrie," Brea spoke up, back in the pool again. She knelt behind her, applying pressure to her hips. "You're almost there. It'll be time to push soon."

"You hear that?" he asked, kissing the top of her head. "You're almost there."

"I need a break," she whispered, her soft words turning into a howl that was stifled against his shirt.

"Carrie, y-"

"Please..."

"Let's try something else," Brea suggested, her tone firm and authoritative. "A change might help the pain."

At Brea's prompting Rick echoed the suggestion, waiting with bated breath for Carrie's response. To their relief she complied, though letting go of him seemed to be a difficult task. With their help she loosened her grip and released him, gritting her teeth and groaning deep within her chest. As he watched her trying to get comfortable he began to better understand the stereotype of men fainting in the delivery room, because he felt a little light headed as he watched her going through this agony. His inability to help her was overwhelming, just as it had been that morning Negan took her away.

"Let's refocus now Carrie," Brea said firmly, helping her settle onto her side. "Make all the noise you want, but breathe through your contractions. Your baby is going to be here soon."

Laying on her side she curled up one leg and stretched the other out, pushing it into the floor with each contraction. "I need an epidural," she grunted, slinging one arm over the edge of the pool to keep herself steady.

"We don't have any o-"

"I don't care, I need one!"

"Let's work together through this one," Brea changed the subject, placing her hand on Carrie's belly. "A breath in and then out, out, out."

Her response to this was a snarl, the kind Rick was getting used to hearing, but to her credit she followed Brea's coaching to the letter, doing exactly as instructed. "Rick…"

"I'm here," he said quickly, taking her hand and then stroking her hair. "You're doing great, Carrie. The baby's near…"

He trailed off as she roughly shoved him away, refusing his touch though she wanted him there. Suddenly she tipped her head back and cried out, mouth wide and her eyes closed as the agony refused to cease. When it began to fade she sagged back into the side of the pool, but her hand was flailing about aimlessly, seeking his. Catching it in his own he gave it a gentle squeeze, receiving a surprisingly strong squeeze in response. Despite everything he managed a smile, confident that she could do this. They were closing in on five o'clock in the morning now, time somehow passing by…her pain would be over soon.

"I love you," he reminded her, kissing the front of her fingers.

In reply he received another unintelligible snarl and another surge of water over the edge, but after that she became still for a while. Things went back and forth from her needing him to breathe with her to telling him to _shut the fuck up_ , but their renewed effort to keep her focused was helping. Time passed, he had no idea how long it was, and it was measured only by how weak she seemed to become. She could do nothing but writhe in pain, desperately moving about in search of relief. Her face was pale and clammy, her eyes bloodshot from the strain of each contraction, but somehow she persevered, and just like he had been all along Rick watched her in complete awe.

He had just offered her a sip of water when she sat up without warning, letting go of his hand. Without a word she moved into the centre of the pool and settled onto her knees, hands clutching her belly as she panted for breath. She was silent but for her gasps of pain, refusing to answer any of their questions or acknowledge their encouragement. For a few minutes she lingered there, splashing water over her shoulders and through her hair, but for the most part she seemed to be resting, the contractions bearable. As he waited for something to happen Rick turned to Brea, seeking her guidance. When she saw his questioning look she gave him the thumbs up, a small smile playing on her face.

"Nearly over," she whispered to him.

As if she had heard this Carrie responded. "I'm getting out," she said hoarsely, heaving for breath.

Before either of them could offer to help she was rising from the water, simply standing up as though she hadn't been labouring for over twenty four hours. Amazed by her strength he fetched a towel and slung it over her shoulders, not taking it to heart when she wordlessly batted him away. As if it were any other day she raised the towel and roughly dried her hair, shivering until she wrapped it around her torso and accepted another to keep her shoulders warm. She moaned deep in her chest as another contraction peaked, and she held his hand to keep her balance, but when it faded she seemed to find reprieve.

For the first time in hours she looked him in the eye, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. Her face was expressionless, but the shadows under her eyes betrayed how tired she was…not that it stopped her getting out of the pool almost completely unassisted. She held his hand only to steady herself, continuing to hold it as she stood on a towel and let the water drip down. Yet another contraction came, one that made her cry out while her legs trembled, but she refused their efforts to help her.

"What time is it?" she asked, her hand literally holding him back.

"Just after five."

"Five…" she murmured, looking down at the floor as she panted to catch her breath. "On Saturday?"

"Saturday," he confirmed, releasing her hand so she could clutch the towels around herself. "No Friday the thirteenth baby."

She blinked in surprise, glancing at his wrist as if not believing him, but then she slowly nodded her head. "Thank God," she sighed, taking a few tentative steps towards the door. "Thank fuck…"

Her steps were timid, legs shaking, but she walked unassisted back to their room, this feat only reinforcing how much Rick was in absolute awe of her.

* * *

It was so much worse than she could have ever prepared herself for.

As the hours slipped by the contractions somehow worsened, coming at greater speed and rolling in to one another until she felt for sure that she had to be dying. She was convinced that something was terribly wrong, that no human could ever endure this and survive. Her very insides were twisting around, it was a cruel torture that made her want to tear her skin off, to escape her body by any means necessary. Time no longer had any meaning, for she couldn't remember ever not feeling this pain.

Foggy and disoriented, she spent much of her time in the inflatable pool feeling completely dependant on Rick to hold her up, to make sure she didn't slip under the water and drown. She had begged him to make it stop, to let her have a break just for a little while, but there was nothing he could do to help her. In time she started to forget why she was doing this, that it was for her baby…she was losing sight of that.

When she walked back into their room it was one staggered step at a time, but somehow she made it. In the peace and warmth Brea helped her into a clean tank top and one of the new fleece robes Tara had put in her gift basked. The contractions continued to come, but finally she was getting rest between them. They were no longer coming one after the other, no longer piling up until she was sure she couldn't take it any longer. Now though, her body was telling her to rest a while, it was the only thought in her head that she could make sense of. Rest.

The bed looked warm and inviting, but she couldn't fathom the idea of laying down, somehow knowing that was the last thing she needed. Without conscious decision she lowered herself to her knees, leaning sideways against the bed frame and stretching one of her legs out. Naked from the waist down she felt cold until Rick tucked a thick blanket around her, lingering close at her request. He knelt down behind her, his arms around her waist and his body warming hers.

Unlike before when she could barely tolerate his touch she now craved it, and she found herself leaning back into his arms as she felt a contraction coming on. Giving in she moaned as loudly as she needed to, her mouth open and eyes closed, and though it lasted forever the intensity had blessedly waned. There was reprieve now, her body giving her time to recover her senses, to catch her breath.

"Brea," she groaned, her hoarse voice feeling like it didn't belong to her. "Am I ready yet?"

At her question Brea joined her on the floor, passing her a glass of water and straw and encouraging her to take a sip. "You tell me. Do you feel like you're ready?"

The answer to this was clear, and so after managing a sip of water she shook her head. "No…but am I?"

"You should push when you feel ready, but you tell me when," she said firmly, patting her on the hand. "Just stay hydrated and keep breathing like you have been. Your baby's going to be here soon."

These words felt like little comfort right now, the thought of it all being over feeling unattainable. Needing to rest she moved closer to the bed and laid her head down, but she didn't allow Rick's embrace to falter. Ever dutiful he continued to rub her lower back and murmur soft words of encouragement, but she drew comfort from the fact that he was as nervous and worried as she was. She could hear his heart racing, could feel that he was shaking, and it was this that reassured and comforted her. She was grateful that he was there with her, and she wished she could find the words to tell him that. For too long she had prepared herself to face this without him, to do it alone, but there was no way she could have made it this far without him by her side.

As her body rested her mind wandered, and she tried to focus on why she was doing this. The baby she had fought like hell for was going to be here soon, and these were exactly the circumstances she had been fighting for. They weren't trapped at the Sanctuary, she wasn't giving birth on the floor of a cell with no one to help her. They were both safe, and they weren't alone…that's what she had working towards.

Gradually she felt a change coming over her, as if a veil was lifting to rouse her from a deep sleep. When her eyes fluttered open she felt unexpectedly revitalised, her mind feeling clearer than it had been in hours. Nevertheless she lay there a few moments longer, breathing through another contraction and then resting when it was over. She could hear Rick and Brea murmuring something, but his presence behind her hadn't abated, nor had his firm hands disappeared from her lower back.

An intense pressure began to grow, and in response she pushed herself upright with a low groan. One hand clutched the blanket on the bed while the other reached back for Rick's, squeezing it hard. "I think it's coming," she gasped, unable to articulate anything else.

A flurry of activity followed this declaration, Brea bustling around to bring over the supplies she had ready, while behind her Rick was asking her what she needed, but she was only half listening. She felt paralysed with indecision, feeling like she needed to move more, but too afraid of the pain that would come. But before she could think it through she felt herself pushing against her will, and she couldn't stop even if she tried. The agony of the contractions returned in full force, eliciting a full bodied cry from deep inside her, but finally something felt right. It still felt like her insides were tearing apart, but she wasn't nearly afraid as she had been before.

"How was that?" Brea asked, kneeling down in front of her. "How did it feel?"

"Good," she groaned through gritted teeth, for although it was torturous it felt like it needed to happen, that it was supposed to.

"We're going to help you focus," Brea said loudly, commanding her attention. "Listen to what your body needs, and I'm going to help you breathe."

"You can do this," Rick murmured, pulling the hair back from her face. "It's almost over now."

Pushing herself away from the bed she settled onto her knees and held onto his hand to steady herself, and though it wasn't quite right she started to push again, unable to deny her body what it wanted. Behind her Rick's support never wavered, his words of encouragement exactly what she needed to hear, yet she pushed him away.

When he didn't move she shoved him, trying to find the words in the midst of her contractions. "I want you to do it," she said in a rush, taking a deep breath and then trying to pant, trying to follow Brea's coaching. "You said you'd do it."

"Do what?" he asked, but judging by the sense of dread in his tone he knew exactly what she was talking about.

Still trying to find something that felt right she leaned forward onto her hands, closing her eyes and trying to breathe. "The baby," she said shortly, not wanting to argue about this. "You're doing it."

There was a moment of silence before she heard him swearing under his breath, muttering something that only he could hear. But a moment later she gave her hand a tight squeeze before letting go, and she opened her eyes to see him getting to his feet beside her, looking at a loss for what to do.

"Change your shirt then wash your hands," Brea instructed him, keeping things on track. "Use the soap in the green bottle."

"I want Carl here," she managed to gasp, forced to repeat herself when they didn't understand her jumbled words. She didn't care what state she was in or how scared he might be, he had asked to be here when the baby was born. He had been there for Judith, and she wasn't going let him miss this one.

To her relief Rick seemed calmer than she thought he would be, but he was a stark contrast to Carl. When he came in from the other room he was shaking from head to toe, nervously turning his hat around in his hands as he looked at the scene before him, at a loss for how he should help. As the minutes passed and she pushed again she caught glimpses of him by Rick's side, both changing their shirts and cleaning up. They were talking quietly together, Carl nervously looking at her over his shoulder, and in that moment she was startled by the reminder of what had happened to Lori. No wonder he was scared, the last time he'd seen something like this his mother had died.

She couldn't dwell on this for long, the next surging contraction compelling her body to respond, to push. She rocked herself forward in search of relief, certain that she could make it all stop if she just found the right position, but it was no use. When she felt Rick's presence in front of her she blindly grabbed at him, using him and his strength to pull herself up onto her knees again. Carl was behind her now, voice wavering as he told her she was doing well, but she could hardly hear him over the rush of blood in her own head. He was dabbing her forehead with a wet cloth, smoothing her hair back and offering ice. When the robe slipped down from her shoulders he quickly lifted it back up, but she just as quickly pushed it back down, warm enough in only her tank top and modesty be damned. With one hand gripping the bed frame beside her the other flailed about until Carl grabbed it, giving her what she sought.

Nothing she did came from conscious thought, though her mind was clearer than it had been in hours. With each contraction and every push she was rearing back against Carl, his body holding her at bay and giving her resistance. Contractions came and went, none of them feeling completely right until she brought one leg up, half kneeling and half standing, and she struggled to focus her attention on Rick. She was watching him as he knelt before her, trying to hold his gaze as she listened to his encouragement. She closed her eyes and submitted, yelling hoarsely as the pain and pressure threatened to overpower her.

Push, push push. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Nothing else existed in the world but those tasks, and it was never going to end. She was too tired now, too weak to even hold her head up, but her body was forcing her to keep going…she couldn't stop even if she wanted to.

"You're doing great Carrie, you're nearly there," Brea was saying loudly, though her voice sounded distant. "It's time to rest a little, just rest."

"I can't."

"Yes you can. Rest now Carrie," she implored. "Big breath in and then let it out, slowly. Gentle…gentle…"

She could hear Rick's voice murmuring softly, but he wasn't talking to her, and she couldn't open her eyes to see him. It took everything she had to just breathe, to resist the urge to bear down with all she had because she just wanted it to be over. But soon she couldn't take it anymore, she had to push even though it felt like her body was going to break in half. It was too much pain, too much everything.

Carl was moving around behind her, taking her arm and draping it over his shoulder so he could hold her up, and in the midst of everything her eyes fluttered open to look at him in surprise, wondering when he had become so strong. She felt herself pushing again, her body in complete control leaving her powerless to do anything other than elicit a groan from deep inside her chest. Even Rick's words of encouragement and praise were lost on her, meaning nothing in the face of such pain.

Soon the mood in the room changed. There was excitement in the air. She could hear it in Rick's voice, could feel it in the way Carl tensed as he held her, holding his breath. A curse word that she normally would have reprimanded him for slipped from his mouth at the same time Rick laughed joyously, and then Brea was trying to get her attention.

"Open your eyes Carrie," she said, gently jostling her shoulder. "Look."

Her eyes flew open and looked down, widening when she caught sight of the mirror Brea was drawing her attention to. She knew exactly what she was seeing, that she should have rejoiced and celebrated her progress, but she couldn't really comprehend what it was. Rick was talking to her, his voice overjoyed as he told her that their baby was almost there, but she could hardly hear him.

"That's the hardest part done," Brea praised her, patting her on the hand. "Give me one more push and then it's over."

Bracing herself against Carl she gave it her all, letting loose a visceral yell that could not be contained. It was excruciating, the very act of pushing both a relief and torturous at the same time.

"Another push. One more."

"No," she protested, reaching out and seizing Rick's shoulder. It wasn't fair…she already said one more.

"It's nearly here," he said loudly, glancing up at her. His features were high with elation, and he beamed at her in that split second before he had to look back down, to concentrate on what he was doing lest he miss the moment. "One more push, you can do it."

She couldn't do it, she absolutely couldn't, but her body was doing it for her, taking complete control and bearing down...then before she could even think about it she was crying out in relief. Without warning it all stopped, and there was a full bodied sense of release as the pain vanished. She was liberated from the agony, the release allowing her to body to sag as she listened to the exclamations of joy, but she could only pant and whimper in relief. It was over. That was the only thought she could comprehend, that it was over now.

Joyful words of celebration were overshadowed by a cry unlike any she'd heard before, and in the back of her mind she knew it was her baby, that it was calling to her. Still panting for breath she opened her eyes and looked down, briefly taken aback because it was nothing at all like she had expected. Purple and bloodied, her baby lay there in the crook of Rick's arm, their face screwed up as Brea wiped its mouth and nose. The cry it made was more like a pitiful gurgle, a squawk at best, but it was communicating its discontent quite clearly.

Rick looked up at her now, his face alight with rapture. "It's a boy," he announced, his voice wavering. "A boy."

Indeed it was, and though she knew in advance she still looked at him in disbelief. His little body was tense and quivering, limbs pulled back to his body as his mouth wobbled around a full bodied cry, one that really expressed his displeasure. She reached down expectantly, making her only demand.

"Give him to me."

Her hands felt as strong as her voice, and when Rick lifted him up to her she finally took hold of her baby. She fumbled for a moment, not expecting his tiny body to be so slippery, but with Rick's help she brought him up to her chest and held him close. A long sigh escaped her lips, her eyes closing as she was taken by an unexpected surge of peace. Laying against her chest the baby continued to cry, his limbs squirming as he wailed nice and loud to announce his own birth. While the fuss died down someone was helping her, pulling back her tank top so she could hold him even closer, and then they were both engulfed in a thick blanket.

Warm and comforted the baby settled, allowing her a few more moments to collect herself before opening her eyes again. When she studied him the world outside the two of them quietened, problems like the Walkers and Negan ceasing to exist. He had stopped crying now but continued making sounds as if testing them out, soft grunts that she could feel reverberating inside his little body. The longer she looked at him the more the pain of the world faded away, and as she learned his delicate features for the first time she felt a growing sense of familiarity. It wasn't that he had been inside her for nine months, but that somehow she had known him her entire life, that he was inevitable for her…he was no stranger.

In the background she could hear Rick talking to her, telling her how proud of her he was, but he sounded far away. As if in a trance she tore her eyes away from the baby and glanced up at him, her eyes drifting closed as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. But she spared her husband only a moment and quickly turned her attention back to the face she never wanted to look away from. The baby's cheeks were full and his lips pink, but it was his dark blue eyes gazing up at her that entranced her. Eyelids opening and closing slowly he grunted a few more times before holding her gaze, almost as if he too couldn't look away.

"Is he okay?" she asked softly.

"He's great," Brea said warmly, slinging a stethoscope over her shoulder. She had already listened to his heart and lungs, but Carrie hadn't noticed a thing. "He's just resting. It's hard work being born."

Indeed his eyes were beginning to close, but still she couldn't bear to look away from him. It felt overwhelming to see how genuinely beautiful he was, his features delicate yet distinct, though at first glance she wasn't sure who she saw in him, herself or Rick. Certainly his mess of dark hair could only be attributed to his dad.

At this thought she sought out Rick again, an unbridled sense of joy and euphoria rising up inside her. "He's perfect," she beamed, fumbling for Rick's hand. "Rick, he's perfect."

"Yeah, he's perfect," he echoed.

Paying attention now, she felt his presence at her side, felt the warmth of his body as she leaned back into his embrace. Reaching around her Rick tentatively pulled back the blankets and her tank top, his touch timid as he found the baby's hand and stroked his miniature fingers. Together they lingered in peaceful silence, not needing to say or do anything else to celebrate the birth of their son.

In those moments Carrie didn't care if she ever walked, ate or slept again…it didn't matter what happened to her now. After everything she'd been through her baby was safe, right there with his parents, and no matter what other mistakes she'd ever made, he was absolute perfection.

* * *

The birth of their son came with a profound feeling of peace, the sense that all was right in the world.

In the daily grind of life it was easy to forget to appreciate the small things, easy to forget how it felt to hold his children as babies. The weight of his newborn son against his chest was a wonderful feeling, his little body so tiny and fragile. He lay naked against Rick's skin, and having never left the arms of one of his family for even a moment he seemed content and happy.

For well over an hour Carrie had knelt exactly where she had given birth, holding the baby close to her body while she rested a while. Though Rick longed to hold his son he had waited, unable to bear the thought of separating them, of taking the baby from her even for just a few minutes. He had waited this long, and he could wait a little more. Instead he knelt with her and allowed her to lean back against his chest, letting their son hold the tip of his finger in his tiny hand and watching every moment. They had named him Calvin, a last minute suggestion he had made weeks ago. In the space of a brief conversation they had circled back to it, and somehow it just felt right, like it had been his name all along.

When she felt ready Carrie had passed Calvin to him, letting him take his first actual hold since helping her deliver him. That feeling…Christ, he had forgotten that feeling of holding a child for the first time. The world felt complete now, like their family had been waiting for him to make them whole. Laying in the crook of his arm Calvin felt impossibly small and fragile, reigniting that protective instinct he knew well, one that had kept his children alive for all these years. There was nothing he wouldn't do for his son, nothing he wouldn't sacrifice for him. Barely an hour old and Rick longed to get to know him, to see who he would become, where life would take him…he had to make sure he was there to see it.

"Thank you," he murmured, looking at Carrie before giving her a gentle kiss. "He's perfect."

She nodded silently, perhaps unable to find the words to express how she too felt. Though she didn't yet ask for him back, Rick could tell that she felt lost without him in her arms, that she didn't quite know what to do with herself now. Despite this she soon ushered Carl over to join them, making sure that he too got to hold his new brother without further delay, but she didn't seem content again until she had her baby back in her arms.

Eventually though, she had to get up. With Brea's help she rose up onto shaky legs and slowly made her way into the bathroom, insisting that Rick bring Calvin so they didn't have to be apart. He waited in the threshold holding him while she cleaned up in one of the stalls, letting Brea help her with a bucket of warm water. She was trying to work quickly as if the thought of being apart from Calvin was objectionable, but at Brea's insistence she took her time, for which he was grateful. When she returned she was wearing clean pyjamas and had brushed her hair, looking visibly refreshed from the long labour that had run her ragged.

At Brea's encouragement she laid down to rest, and her only condition was that Rick and Calvin lay down with her, that she got to keep him close. She had tried to stay awake, but at present she seemed to be dozing, though every time Calvin made even the smallest of sounds her eyes would flutter open, so hopelessly in love she couldn't sleep. Meanwhile Calvin was content laying naked against Rick's chest, kept warm with a light blanket as he grunted and cooed to himself. Every now and then he noticeably smacked his lips as though he could still taste his mother's breast from when he had nursed, but for now he was content. Though he had slept for some time he was now awake and alert, occasionally moving his arms and legs as he tried to adjust to the strange new world he had been brought into.

Rick wasn't quite sure what was going through his head right now, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that it had happened, that their baby was here. Things like pride and awe for Carrie were sure as hell top of mind. Women had been giving birth for thousands of years, it was done every day, but never before had he seen it like this. He couldn't get over what it was she accomplished, that she had endured such agony to give them both a child. She had struggled, had called on him for strength and to relieve her pain, but she made it. Carrie was stronger and more powerful than he had ever known…no one wold ever call her weak.

At the time she had first suggested it he hadn't been completely on board with the idea of delivering the baby himself, feeling that it should be entrusted to someone more experienced, but when it came down to it there was no arguing with what Carrie wanted. Brea had been great, literally taking his hands and guiding him with what to do, somehow encouraging Carrie while also making sure he had every instruction he needed. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, but though he remembered Abraham's joke that it would be like watching his favourite bar burn down it hadn't felt like that at all. Instead it was astonishment, sheer awe at what Carrie was doing to bring their baby into the world. In hindsight he was glad that she had made him do this, that he had been the first person to ever hold their child.

In the bed beside him she was starting to move, giving a long sigh as she roused from her light doze. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused for a few moments until she looked up and saw Calvin nearby, and he was witness to the way she remembered what had happened, that her baby was there. The corners of her mouth twitched a little, her brow softening as she looked at him, practically gazing in exhausted adoration.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded, slowly smiling. "I think I could climb a mountain."

"A mountain?" he chuckled, endeared when the baby started making noises against his chest. Had he heard his mother's voice? "What kind of mountain are you thinking about?"

"A really big one," she smiled. Reaching over she fussed with the blanket a little, making sure no cool air reached Calvin. "I want to take him out and show everyone. It's tradition here."

"I've heard. Take the baby out, parade it around, and Ezekiel gives his royal blessing. You want all that fuss?"

"Yeah," she beamed, still gazing down at him. "I want everyone to see him."

Understanding the desire to show off ones child to anyone who would look, Rick didn't argue against it. "We should let Daryl see him first."

"Where is he?" she asked, lifting her head a little.

"I'm not sure. He and Lana aren't around."

She gave a small laugh now, laying her head back onto the pillow. "Might have scared them both away," she chuckled. "Can we send Carl out?"

"He's already looking."

Murmuring her thanks she moved closer, adjusting her pillow before snuggling up against his side, but when she reached out and put her hand beneath Calvin's blanket he began to feel bad. "Do you want him back?"

She was silent, and her delay was the only answer he needed. Ushering her to move over he slowly sat up and brought Calvin into his hands, marvelling again over how tiny he was. While Carrie got herself comfortable he looked down at their son, studying every inch of him as he scrunched up his face and began to protest the change.

"He's long," he commented, trying to remember if Carl and Judith had been long as newborns. Hell, had they ever really been this small?

"With parents like us, he's not going to be short."

Opening the buttons of her shirt Carrie reached out for Calvin, comforting him as he let out a few full blown cries. She took him confidently and settled him on her chest, quickly bundling him up again and kissing the crown of his head. As if she'd been doing this for years she patted and rubbed his back, talking to him as she leant back into the pillows she had piled up. When his cries began to settle she looked up at Rick, a short jerk of her head ushering him to come closer. They shared a light kiss, Rick lingering close and kissing her a second time before putting his arm around her.

"Love you," she murmured, looking at him fondly before leaning into his embrace and getting comfortable.

"I love you too."

Peaceful silence resumed, and when Carrie closed her eyes Rick made a point of keeping his open, grateful that despite having been awake for more than a day he felt alert and energised. Though he stroked Carrie's hair just the way she liked his gaze was focused on their son who still lay awake, comfortably laying between her breasts as her chest rose and fell with each slow breath. He was curled up with his legs tucked close and hands by his chin, and Rick simply couldn't get over the sheer perfection of him. Though not quite yet focused Calvin was looking up at him, his dark eyes blinking lazily every little while. Unable to help himself he reached out, stroking the side of Calvin's face, tracing the shell of his ear that was folded over but which would correct in a few days. His skin was impossibly soft and new, cheeks and eyelids a little swollen, but still perfect.

A short while later Calvin too was asleep, his chest rising and falling as he sucked on the back of his hand, making Rick suspect that he was ready to nurse again. He checked his watch, hoping that if Carl couldn't find Daryl he would at least bring back something from the cafeteria. Calvin wasn't the only one who was hungry. Dwelling on his empty stomach rather than his tiredness he tried to keep his mind active, to resist the temptation of falling asleep, but he knew he wasn't long for it. Twenty minutes passed before he felt himself nodding off, his head drifting forward until his chin touched his chest, and after forcibly rousing himself three times he gave in. Keeping his eyes open long enough to check that Carrie and Calvin were both resting comfortably he carefully extracted his numb arm around around her shoulders, relieved when she roused only a little before closing her eyes again.

Rick lay down beside her and closed his eyes, happier than he remembered ever being. Not one thing is on his mind today but his family, how damn happy they are, and how damn happy they're going to be together. This was what he needed for the war, the reminder of why he had to persevere and risk it all.

* * *

Feeling like he was actually walking on air, Carl was roaming about the Kingdom with a permanent smile etched onto his face. His cheeks hurt from his constant grinning, the scars over his right eye socket pulled tight from the excessive strain, but he couldn't stop. Word had spread quickly as it tended to do around here, and everywhere he went people were calling out to him, congratulating him on his new little brother as if it was something he had achieved, but he didn't bother correcting them.

Today had to be one of the best days of his life, for he hadn't been able to bask in this incredible feeling the day Judith was born, no matter how much he loved her. Finally the baby had come and it was over now. He didn't need to be scared and worried any more, he didn't need to read up on things like pre-eclampsia and breech, and nor did he have to anticipate today with feelings of dread. He had been worried for the entire pregnancy as if Herschel's birth wasn't proof that it could be okay, that it didn't always have to end like it did for him mom. Thankfully, it was over now. Carrie was safe, and he had a little brother…a little brother!

He wouldn't have said anything about it, and nor would he have felt unhappy if it was a girl, but secretly he had been hoping for a little brother, that he was lucky enough to get one of each. Perhaps it was the world rewarding him for all the shit he'd been through and all that he had lost, and now Judith and Calvin made the perfect set of siblings, all for him.

The actual process of the baby being born had nearly proven too much for him, for it was too confronting to see Carrie in so much pain. While his dad had long ago explained the basic mechanics of how a baby was conceived and born he had made a point of properly investigating the subject when he learned of Carrie's pregnancy, wanting to not only prepare for the worst, but to actually understand what was going to happen. But reading up and asking Denise a myriad of questions hadn't prepared him to face the actual reality. Reading in a book that contractions were painful and seeing it firsthand were two very different things.

Very quickly he realised that he had gotten himself into more than he could handle. He couldn't take seeing Carrie in so much pain when there was nothing he could do to help her. She'd tasked him with holding up the laptop so she could watch Gilmore Girls, but by then the contractions had become so painful they could barely hear the DVD over the sound of her moaning. As his heart pounded and his palms became sweaty he kept finding himself looking at her hands, watching her knuckles turning white as she gripped the back of the coach. Intermittently he looked at her belly, still not quite believing that any baby that fit there was going to come out of… _there_.

By the time Carrie's water broke he had made a retreat, hoping that no one paid attention to him wigging out. He had retreated to Daryl's bedroom, feeling like an awkward third wheel between him and Lana, but it was a whole lot better than being with Carrie and watching her in pain. Still they could hear her, the deep moans that echoed down the corridor made set them all on edge. For most of the night she was down the hall in the blow up pool, but that was when Carl had been called to help again, tasked with schlepping to and from the cafeteria to keep a good supply of hot water for pain relief.

This was a task he could handle, one that allowed him to actually do something without feeling completely useless. Still it made him feel nauseas with fear seeing her like that, kneeling in the water in excruciating pain, barely able to hold herself upright. He had to avert his gaze because she was completely naked, and though he'd jokingly harassed her for as long as he could remember to see her tattoo, this wasn't how he wanted to catch a glimpse of Tinkerbell.

When Carrie got out of the pool he had retreated back to Daryl's couch again, laying there anxiously listening to her next door, hearing every cry of pain. Daryl and Lana too were awake, no doubt listening in horror. One day they were going to go through this, but that was a whole other set of drama that Carl hadn't wrapped his mind around. But barely an hour after making his retreat his dad came in, telling him to get up and put on a clean shit. In the minutes that followed he seriously regretted asking Carrie if he could be there when the baby came, for he really doubted he had the stomach for what he knew was about to happen.

"What do I do?" he asked quietly, pulling on a clean shirt as he joined his dad to wash his hands.

Looking just as nervous as him his dad let out a low breath, rubbing soap all the way up his forearms. "Just, hold her hand," he said quietly, eyes darting back into the room as Carrie cried out again. "Tell her she's doing a good job."

"What else?"

"Tell her it'll be over soon."

Carl stood there in disbelief, pouring copious amounts of soap onto his hands before washing them under the running water. Was that all he could do? Hold her hand and say good job…was that really it? When he finished up he tentatively made his way back inside, his palms becoming clammy again when he looked at her. She looked deranged with agony, her hair in disarray and sweat pouring down her face. On her hands and knees she was rocking back and forth, moaning a deep cry he'd never heard a person make before, and he looked around to Brea and his dad. Why weren't they helping her? What wasn't anyone doing something?

To his relief Brea gave him something to do, handing him a wet cloth and telling him to wipe Carrie's forehead, and with a clear task he set about the job, relieved to have something to do. It felt stupid telling her that it was okay, that she was doing a good job, and he didn't think she was even listening to him, then a few minutes later she grabbed him by the hand and wouldn't let go.

Her arm was around his shoulder, using his body for counterforce with every push, and he had to admire the strength she had in her. More than once she had nearly pushed him over when she reared back against him, clinging to him for balance as the baby got closer and closer to being born…and then he looked down at the wrong moment. All along he'd made a point of not looking down, unsure of the line between being creepy and genuine interest in learning about this kind of thing, but he wasn't given a choice, he just saw it. When he realised what he was seeing he couldn't help but stare, his mind boggled, completely dumfounded. It was actually happening…

In horrified fascination he watched the whole thing, feeling faint when the baby literally slipped out into his dad's hands, purple and bloodied. But in that moment he didn't feel joy or happiness, it was a heart stopping fear that made him freeze. The baby didn't move or cry like in the movies, it was completely limp as his dad brought it into the crook of his arm, but blessedly the moment passed quickly. Not looking at all worried Brea simply moved in and started rubbing his face and chest, jostling him with more force than he'd expect on a newborn baby, but then his arms and legs jerked as he gave a gurgled cry.

Carl was sure he'd been holding his breath the whole time, that he didn't breathe properly again until Carrie was holding the baby. The chaos and anxiety faded into the background, replaced by a feeling of peaceful serenity, nevertheless Carl retreated. He lingered long enough to cut the cord at his dad's suggestion, but once he finished with that he quietly stepped away, letting them kneel there on the floor marvelling over he baby. This was all he'd wanted, the only thing he'd been trying to guarantee the day he went to the Saviours and surrendered to Negan. Carrie and the baby were both safe and together, and his dad hadn't missed it…that was all he wanted.

From there he lingered in the background, helping Brea clean things up and occasionally pestering her with questions which she dutifully explained. While Carrie and his dad were fully occupied with the baby Carl turned his fascination to the placenta, Brea letting him hold it as she showed him the different parts, explaining how it worked. It was bigger and heavier than he expected, more complicated too, his thirst for knowledge compelling him to study the umbilical cord's arteries and veins. This was when he asked about his mom, having known that her death was caused by a problem with the placenta, but never quire understanding what was wrong. But Brea had explained, and as his thirst for understanding only grew he knew that this was the kind of thing he wanted to do. Maybe one day he'd be Alexandria's new doctor.

In the afternoon his brother was now an incredible eight hours old. He'd held him more than once, was given the honour of not only cutting the cord but then changing his first diaper. Now though Carl had a different task, one that he'd not been successful in all day. Carrie was itching to get out of their room and show Calvin to everyone at the Kingdom, but she wasn't willing to do that until Daryl saw him first. Family got that kind of honour on days like these, and it had fallen to Carl to track him down and summon him back. Problem was, just like usual no one knew where the hell Daryl was.

It wasn't until the afternoon that he finally got a call over the radio, one of the Kingdom's watch stations seeing him and Lana returning on foot. Though he wanted to stay with Calvin, because damn his baby brother was cute, Carl hastily threw on his jacket and rushed to the gates, not wanting to keep Carrie waiting any longer. He got there just as the gates swung open to let Daryl and Lana back inside, both of them wearing body armour and carrying a pack each, but to his relief they weren't covered in the usual amounts of gore. With Daryl's injuries and Lana's pregnancy they were supposed to be taking it easy. Daryl wasn't even supposed to go out very far.

"Where the hell have you been?" Even as he tried to be stern Carl couldn't stop smiling.

"Non'ya," Daryl retorted, taking off his armour and stowing it in a nearby garden shed.

"Non'ya?"

"Non'ya business," he said bluntly, taking Lana's armour too.

Carl laughed shortly, liking that Daryl still messed with him. "So, I guess you don't want to know about the baby then."

This got Daryl's attention, his mouth twisting into what looked like an actual smile as he and Lana shared a glance. "Go on then. Tell us, yah little brat."

He could have strung him along a little longer, could have messed with him and made him really work for it, but Carl couldn't help himself. He wanted to shout to the whole world, and it was already taking all the self-control he had not to shout it at Daryl. "It's a boy."

"Shit 'ay," Daryl remarked, looking appropriately impressed. "A little brother. Good for you."

"I asked Santa for a puppy, but a brother will do."

"What's his name?"

Carl shook his head, knowing he wasn't allowed to tell just yet. That was Carrie's honour. "You're gonna have to come and find out yourself. They want you to see him first before they bring him out. Both of you."

Lana seemed to hesitate, touching her fingers to the back of Daryl's hand to get his attention. "We don't want to intrude."

Shaking his head at them Carl turned on his heel, ushering them to follow. "They've only been waiting for you _all day_. Where have you guys been?"

"Out Woop Woop," she answered.

"What?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Woop Woop. You've never heard of it?"

"You're making that up," he accused as they fell into step alongside him.

"It's out yonder way," Daryl added, struggling with his new crossbow before Lana gestured for it, carrying it over her shoulder instead.

At this Carl gave up, for that was the answer his dad gave when he didn't want to answer. Quickly making their way across the Kingdom they returned to the block where they had been housed, heading first to Daryl and Lana's room. At his instructions they agreed to change their clothes first, and before he left them he pointed out the green soap in the bathroom, and the hand sanitiser, making sure they would remember to use it. The last thing his little brother needed was whatever diseases the Walkers were carrying.

"They're here," he announced.

Sitting on the couch, Carrie was eating a late lunch. "Finally," she moaned in exasperation, setting her food aside.

She seemed a little weary when she got up, but as if nothing was amiss she reached into the crib beside her where Calvin lay. Content, he was stretching his arms and legs out, getting accustomed to what he could do outside the confines of his mother's body. With his dad's help she quickly got him bundled up in the white blanket she had apparently brought with her all the way from Alexandria, to the Sanctuary and then to the Kingdom. Ready to be presented Calvin yawned, his tiny mouth opening comically wide before he blinked in surprise once it was over.

"Where were they?" his dad asked, downing the last of a cup of coffee.

"Yonder."

"Ahh," he nodded, understanding. "Nice place that."

Looking a little unhappy Carrie nudged his dad's arm, saying something quietly so that Carl couldn't hear. A moment passed as they seemed to share an entire conversation without words, his dad simply shrugging his shoulders at her. When he spoke it was inaudible again, but Carl got the gist. _How am I supposed to know where he's been?_

Not a moment too soon there came a knock at the adjoining door, Daryl and Lana tentatively standing in the threshold. Looking genuinely glad to see them his dad went forward, the two friends sharing a happy smile as he gave them the good news and invited them in. As expected the entire focus quickly turned to the baby, Daryl appearing to hold his breath when Carrie came forward with him.

"This is Calvin," she said softly, passing him into Daryl's arms. "Calvin Daryl."

There was a comfortable silence around the room as Daryl held the baby in his arms, expression impassive as he looked down at him. It took a few moments, but with his free hand he tentatively pulled back the blanket a little and took a better look at him, coaxing him take his pinky finger in his hand. Calvin didn't make a fuss even once, completely content to be passed around so long as he was warm and safe. For a few long moments they all simply watched and waited, letting Daryl enjoy the moment.

"You don' have to name him that," he said quietly, glancing up at Carrie.

Having anticipated this, she glanced at his dad and then held her ground. "We want to honour you."

At this comment Daryl took a deep breath, his shoulders tightening as he looked down at Calvin again, then he murmured something soft, something only Carrie could hear. It was then that Carl started to feel like he was intruding, that this needed to be a private moment between only the two of them. He didn't quite understand why it seemed that way, but then Carrie moved closer and embraced him. Just at this moment his dad gave him a gentle nudge, the two of them stepping away and allowing Carrie and Daryl to have a few moments to themselves. When she let him go they began talking quietly, Carrie pulling back the blankets and showing him the police onesie Calvin was wearing, the item of clothing making Daryl laugh a little. On their other side Lana had also drawn away as if she too realised she was being a third wheel, and Carl couldn't help but notice the wistful expression in her eyes.

A few minutes later Calvin's eyes closed as he drifted off to sleep, and by then it seemed Carrie and Daryl had said all they needed to say. There was a rare smile on his face as he turned to Rick and congratulated him, and he was still smiling when he went to Lana and passed the baby over to her. Quickly the atmosphere became lighthearted and cheerful, Daryl soon popping a bottle of champagne he had taken from the store room and declaring a round of drinks to celebrate. They poured the warm champagne into whatever mugs or glasses they had nearby and toasted to Calvin's birth, even Carl getting a large mug of the bubbly drink that was surprisingly tasty.

Not until hours later that night, when he lay on the couch listening to the rare silence as all four of them slept, did something occurred to him. Carrie had been in labour all of yesterday and last night, while today had been spent marvelling over Calvin and showing him off to the people of the Kingdom. In all of that time, not once had any of them spoken of the impending war with the Saviours, not even a passing mention.

It was a strong reminder that it was days like these they were going to be fighting for.

* * *

A/N So, what did you think? Please don't forget to leave a review!


	66. Chapter 66

A/N Ahhh I'm sorry for the delay - it's been a tough few weeks travelling back and forth for work and family, I just wasn't able to finish writing this chapter (it wraps up pretty quickly). Thanks for your patience everyone.

* * *

Tuesday, March 17

It was approaching dawn when Rick finally laid down on top of the bed next to Carrie, kicking off his boots as he sank into the pillows. He had been out for the last few hours, him and some others meeting up with Arat at the same place near the Sanctuary, but that wasn't the only reason he hadn't found a wink of sleep. He felt himself dozing, listening to the sound of Carrie's slow, deep breaths beside him, but that was all the peace he was afforded, a few measly minutes. On the other side of the bed came a familiar sound, and for a few more moments he lay there in the dark, his head fuzzy with exhaustion as he waited for the baby to settle again, to go back to sleep.

 _Please…please go back to sleep. Just for a minute…_

It wasn't to be, and soon Calvin's quiet fussing turned into discontent, and so Rick rose from the bed, hissing when his feet touched the ground and started to ache. His whole body was sore right now, weeks of fighting the Saviours taking its toll on him, and they hadn't even started the real fight. Persevering he hastened to get to his son before he roused his mother. With only the soft glow of the night light to guide him he rounded the bed to Carrie's side, peering into the small crib she had pulled right against the bed. She slept with her hand reaching in, an unwanted pacifier still looped around her little finger just in case she needed it. Calvin lay within arm's reach, but his face was screwed up as he grumbled unhappily.

"Hey there," Rick whispered softly, reaching in to him. Letting the weight of his hand rest on Calvin's chest he gave him a soft nudge, trying to comfort him. "What's going on, huh? What's the problem?"

At his touch Calvin forced his eyes open, gazing up at him before screwing them shut again. He was swaddled in his blanket, head kept warm with a knitted cap, but something had disturbed him, and so Rick didn't hesitate to pick him up. Some would say that he shouldn't, that babies should be able to settle themselves, but he didn't give a damn. Bringing his son into his arms he bounced him a few times, talking to him softly as they swayed back and forth just the way he liked.

"He's not hungry," Carrie mumbled wearily, not even opening her eyes. "He just nursed for an _hour_."

"Again?" he sighed, looking down at her and noticing her shirt was completely askew, that she had been too tired to even button herself up.

She mumbled a reply of some kind, but that was the extent of the effort she could manage. As she went back to sleep he pulled the front of her shirt across, knowing she would be embarrassed if Carl caught an eyeful. Making sure she was resting comfortably he turned his attention back to their son, and in the midst of his own exhaustion he was still able to marvel over what a miracle he was. Flesh and blood that had come from nothing, from a risky quickie…but even so he knew that their son was always meant to be, for it felt like he'd always been a part of their family.

When Calvin started to cry he quickly sought to settle him, also conscious of Carl on the couch, who despite offers to help during the night was more often found sneaking into Daryl's room to get some peace and quiet. But that luxury was going to have to change, for after tonight Carl would need to step up, to be there for his family…but it wasn't time for that yet.

After freshening up his diaper Rick gave Calvin a quick rub down with some lotion, massaging his sweet round belly just in case he was gassy after nursing. In the peaceful comforts of their room Calvin barely made a peep, not even protesting the cold air when he was freed from his swaddle. Instead he lay there contentedly as Rick rubbed him down, eyes gauging him in effort to memorise his face, to recognise the features of the father who comforted him. A short while later they moved to the rocking chair together, Calvin stoically refused to go to sleep but instead laying with his head against Rick's shoulder. He fussed and grumbled away, quietened only by the vigorous yet gentle pats on his back, and then finally the cause of his fussiness made itself known.

A robust burp erupted from his mouth, eliciting a relieved smile from Rick. "Was that the problem?" he whispered, loving the way Calvin sighed and finally put his head down. "You feel better now?"

There was a dampness on his shoulder, the familiar smell of spit up, and without thinking twice he used the clean part of his shirt to wipe Calvin's face clean. Knowing he should have remembered the dedicated cloth he set about wrapping him back up in the swaddle, hoping he might get him back to sleep. It took another twenty minutes, the two of them walking back and forth about the room as Rick struggled to keep his eyes open. He had a long day ahead of him, and it wasn't going to be easy…he needed to sleep. In the midst of his joy and love was a sense of frustration, the natural aggravation that came from tending to the needs of someone who couldn't return the favour.

When Calvin's eyes were finally closed Rick bided his time before risking it, but eventually he had to take a chance. Returning to the bedside crib he slowly moved Calvin away from his chest and lowered him in, holding his breath as he reminded himself to watch his head, to make sure there was as little movement as possible. Carl hadn't minded being put down as baby, but in her early weeks Judith would rouse at even the slightest jostle of her head. It seemed Calvin was much the same, because the moment Rick slowly pulled his hand from beneath his head his eyes flew open, looking up at him accusingly before he clenched his eyes shut and opened his mouth.

There was a torturous moment as he looked down at him, his son's mouth wide open but silent, and he prayed for mercy, that it was only a yawn and not a cry. But there was no mercy, not this time anyway. It was far from the volume of cries he would learn to make over the coming months, but Calvin gave it his all by letting out a full bodied wail, one that immediately roused Carrie. She rose from her slumber with a whimper, hands blearily reaching into the crib before her eyes had even opened. Over on the couch Carl was giving a heavy sigh as he turned over to face the other direction, pulling the blankets over his head to block out the sound.

"What's wrong?" Carrie asked, giving him the same accusing look Calvin had.

"I tried putting him down," he apologised, already scooping him back into his arms. "Go back to sleep."

For a moment she considered it, watching him with a blank expression, but then she shook her head. "Give him to me."

Turning onto her other side she settled down and got comfortable, gesturing for her baby a second time. Doing as she asked Rick came over and set him down, watching in admiration as she simply got on with it all. Even half asleep she unwrapped Calvin from his swaddle and brought him to her breast, the two of them fumbling around for a few minutes until they were situated, and then…peace.

"What do you need?" he asked.

"Get me the other blanket," she requested, gesturing vaguely behind herself. "The one with the elephants."

Hastening to find it he brought it over and helped tuck it around Calvin, taking the time to check he was warm enough. Nursing yet again he was finally content, arms stretched out as though hugging Carrie's breast to his body. Feeling guilty for waking him in the first place, he passed her some water and reminded her to drink, and when he joined her back in bed he sat up against the headboard instead of laying down. He needed to stay awake for them, to relieve any more wind before trying to settle Calvin back to sleep, and this time he wouldn't make the mistake of trying to put him back in his crib. They'd sleep together in the rocking chair if they had to.

"He shouldn't still be hungry," Carrie murmured. "He's been feeding _all night_."

Hearing the tone of her voice, that she wasn't just exhausted but anxious too, he sought to reassure her. "You're doing a great job," he said, meaning it. He reached over and stroked his hand over her hair, letting his fingers trail through it just the way she liked.

She didn't say anything else, making him wonder if his words had helped at all, but with the feeling of peace setting in again he decided not to disturb them. Moments like this were what would get him through the coming weeks, the tender look of adoration in Carrie's eyes. Weary and exhausted, yes, but for their son it was all worth it. She was holding him close as he nursed, her fingers stroking the side of his face while she talked to him, and Rick couldn't help but watch them. How could he possibly look away?

Not unexpectedly he dozed off at some stage, his head lolling forward until his chin touched his chest, and when he roused it was with a jerk of the head. Hissing at a lingering pain in his bruised shoulder he rubbed his eyes as he came around, seeing light streaming through the gaps in the drapes. A quick glance at his watch suggested it was after dawn, another night of broken sleep having passed their family by. At this thought he looked down at Carrie by his side, glad to find that she was asleep, head still propped up on her hand. Asleep beside her was Calvin, still at her breast.

Unable to help himself he reached down and stroked the side of Calvin's face just as she had been doing, admiring the intricate shape of his ears, but the touch seemed to rouse him. He jolted a little, eyes fluttering open as he started nursing again, his jaw moving up and down as if Rick had reminded him he had to do something more important than sleeping. But his efforts lasted no more than a few minutes, and though his eyes remained open his sucking stopped, finally satiated. Releasing Carrie's breast he smacked his lips together, an adorable expression of satisfaction coming across his features.

"Hungry little devil," he said affectionally, reaching over and pulling Carrie's shirt across her front.

Feeling the need to get outside, for he had the feeling that the weather was nice, Rick once again rose from the warmth of his bed to dress, and then he set about preparing the stroller. Making sure he had everything he needed he scooped Calvin up from the mattress, taking advantage of his fully belly to ensure Carrie could continue sleeping. He checked his diaper and then swaddled him up again, making sure he would be plenty warm for their venture outside. Though Brea hadn't been concerned he had a mild touch of jaundice about him, noticeable only in the yellowish tinge in his eyes. Taking him outside when the weather was mild enough as an imperative, and so he took the opportunity now.

It seemed he had overestimated how deeply asleep Carrie was, for the moment he turned the door knob she was lifting her head from the pillow, turning to him when she found the bed next to her empty.

"Where are you taking him?" she asked expectantly, though not because she mistrusted him.

"Coffee run," he answered. "Stay and get some more sleep."

Not to his surprise she shook her head at this, giving another sigh as she sat up and threw the blankets back. "I'll come with you."

"We'll be fine," he assured her, bringing the stroller over and gesturing inside. Calvin lay there content, eyes half open as he looked around having now heard his mother's voice. "We'll be fifteen minutes. Twenty at the most."

Insisting she stay he grabbed the blankets and threw them back over her, and it seemed that was enough to make her decision. For a long moment she lingered there with her hand on the stroller to stop him from leaving, but she relented. Laying back down she grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest, pulling the blankets up to her neck.

"Get some breakfast?"

"Of course."

"Make my coffee decaf," she added next, her voice heavy with sleepiness. "And can you check on Judy's cake?"

"It's all under control," he assured her, leaning down and kissing her cheek. "We won't be far."

She mumbled something in reply, and so Rick took his leave before he disturbed her any further. It was a welcome relief to step out into the morning sunshine, the warmth on his face helping him to feel a little more human after a long night. Retracting the hood over the bassinet he watched as the sunlight fell across Calvin's face and watched the way he drank it all in, still looking milk drunk as he turned his head towards the light.

"You like that, huh?" he asked, loving the way Calvin seemed to also turn his head towards him, seeking out a voice that he knew brought comfort and safety. "It's your sister's birthday today," he said next, talking just so Calvin could hear his voice. "There'll be a party when we get there."

The Kingdom was already abuzz with activity, for they too were early risers by nature, accustomed to making the most of every minute of daylight, especially during the winter months. As they made their way to the cafeteria he and Calvin attracted the usual interest from those around, the Kingdom adoring the newest addition. Carrie got her wish the day he was born, and after a few hours resting in the privacy of their room they ventured out to show everyone their son, parading him around for the well wishers as was tradition here. Not one custom was overlooked, with Jerry making the fuss of announcing Calvin's birth like an old time town crier, while King Ezekiel bestowed what he called a Royal Blessing. For every minute Carrie had been beaming, proudly showing their baby to everyone and walking around as if she hadn't just spent over a day in labour.

In the cafeteria he was promptly ushered to the front of the line for coffee, someone he recognised only on face value hastening to help him collect a flask of decaf for Carrie, and regular for himself. The Kingdom had been taking exceptionally good care of them, having not only accommodated Carrie and Daryl in the days following their escape and then through her labour, but through the days that had followed. All of their meals had been delivered to their door, Carrie receiving extra rations to support her and Calvin, while tasks like their laundry were also taken care of. Each day the shower block was cleared for Carrie to come and shower in absolute privacy, allowing her to take her time while Rick waited in the next stall with Calvin who she insisted on brining with her. The Kingdom were going above and beyond to look after them, and had brushed off their gratitude saying this was how things were done around here. He supposed it would have been much the same in Alexandria too, for the days and weeks following Herschel's birth Glenn and Maggie wouldn't have lifted a finger to do something as mundane as empty the dishwasher.

"Breakfast, yes?" Chef asked loudly, stepping out from the kitchen. "What you want?"

"Just what everyone else is having, please," was Rick's answer, the same he had given at every other meal. "You don't need to go to any trouble."

"We make eggs for her," Chef decided. "Two egg omelette, good protein."

"Tha-"

"And bacon too. Crispy for Daryl, yes?" he asked, looking at him urgently. "Crispy bacon, eggs and oatmeal."

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"You wait," he instructed, his face softening a moment as he glanced in at Calvin, but only for a moment. "We make for you, five minutes. Wait."

As they waited he turned the stroller to face the cafeteria line, letting everyone look at him as they reached the end of the line and collected their breakfast trays. As could be expected a bottleneck quickly formed, everyone stopping to admire him even though he was doing nothing more than breathing. Nevertheless men and women young and old stopped to admire him, and Rick couldn't help it…God damn he was proud.

The fuss over Calvin and his family continued when the kitchen workers came out, loading the stroller's basked with bakeware dishes full of food for him to take back to their room. But before he could leave Chef came back out, checking everything was in order before ushering Rick to follow him.

"Come look," he encouraged. "Almost finished now, Gino just mixing the next buttercream."

Leaving Calvin under watchful eyes, Rick followed Chef into the kitchen, knowing what he was being summoned for. Among the chaos and mess of preparing the breakfast service there was one kitchen counter that was clean and orderly, everyone giving it a wide berth as they carried pots and pans past to dump them in the sink. Standing at a mixer was Gino, scraping the sides of the bowl before adding in a few drops of purple food colouring, while on the counter before him was a number two shaped cake covered perfect white frosting.

"We kept it plain, purple and white only," Gino explain when he saw he had an audience. "That way you can take the credit."

"She's going to love it. Thank you."

"I have food in cooler too," Chef informed him, ushering him out of the kitchen and back to where Calvin and his fans were waiting. "Ready food for mama, and staples for everyone else. You take with you today."

"We're taking two cars, we'll have the room," he assured him. "Keep track of the resources you're using. When this is all over, the Kingdom will be made whole again."

"Yes, yes," he said off handedly, no doubt trying to brush him off. "Go now. A new mama must eat a good breakfast."

With the stroller laden with food and coffee while Calvin continued to sleep peacefully Rick took his leave, wanting to get the food back to their room while it was still good. As he made his way through the community he noted that it was a little after eight thirty, that this was about the time the younger kids were convening for their classes. But they weren't here anymore, they were down at Oceanside. All that were left at the Kingdom were those able to defend themselves and their home, but he took comfort in the fact that there was a greater number who had stayed behind than had left.

The meeting with Arat had gone about as well as they could have hoped, for though they hadn't made any progress with what was to happen next, nothing terrible had happened either. With their people being spread thin between Alexandria, the Kingdom and Oceanside he had only been able to bring with him Cyndie, Sasha, and Jerry, but had refused Daryl's repeated requests to join him. It didn't matter that he had recovered well and had regained much of his strength, his presence could very well serve to exacerbate an already fragile relationship with Arat. Whether she was on their side or not, there was no need to flaunt the Sanctuary's escapee in front of her, and privately Rick worried that Daryl wasn't quite up to it. Arat had been a major part of what happened at the Sanctuary, to both Carrie and Daryl…he worried how Daryl might react if things started getting tense.

While the meeting itself passed with only even tempered discussion, little progress had been made. Arat had no solid plan to protect the innocent people inside the Sanctuary, while Rick's people had yet to form a cohesive plan to wage war. Right now they were disorganised, the leaders of each group scattered about with Jesus at the Hilltop, Rick and Ezekiel at the Kingdom, and Cyndie going back and forth from the Kingdom and Oceanside. Their lack of progress lingered in the back of Rick's mind, reinforcing the importance of what he was doing that day.

He had just spent a week at the Kingdom, and four blissful days shut away with his family who rightfully had claim over his attention. But that was coming to an end now, for the importance of him being there for Carrie and their newborn was overshadowed by the impending war. There was no more time to waste, and Rick needed to focus his attention on bringing together the communities, on leading them to form a cohesive plan of attack…but it came at a cost for Carrie. Today she was going to Oceanside, and they would have to say goodbye to one another.

When they returned to their room they were met at the door by Carrie, who had clearly been watching the clock throughout their absence. "What took so long?" she asked, peering into the stroller.

"It's only been ten minutes," he said, kissing her on the cheek and not taking her less than welcoming greeting to heart. "He slept the whole time."

Seeing that she was half dressed he ushered her away, moving the stroller over into the corner and draping a light blanket over top. He knew better than to try moving him into the crib, and confident he would sleep for a while longer he unpacked the breakfast food from the basket. By the time he was pouring the coffee Carrie retuned fully dressed, while Carl traipsed in behind her blearily rubbing his eyes.

"Tough night?" Rick teased as Carl slumped into a chair at their small table.

Carl instantly perked up, not wanting to complain about his poor sleep when he'd clearly had more than the whole lot of them. "Nah, just wakin' up."

"Did you tell Daryl breakfast is here?"

Carrie shook her head, she too taking her seat. "He's not in his room. Lana either."

"What time did they go out?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, helping himself to some oatmeal. "Can you pass the coffee?"

Carrie gave him a puzzled look, but passed it nonetheless. "Since when do you drink coffee?"

Carl just shrugged again, giving another _I dunno_ before taking a sip. Rick and Carrie exchanged a glance before shaking their heads, both of them wondering when exactly that had happened. Enjoying the simplicity of eating breakfast together they didn't push the subject, each of them instead sitting back and engaging in idle chatter, passing the time as they ate. As time ticked by Rick couldn't help but wonder if this would be the last time they ate together like this, if perhaps the coming weeks and months would spell the end of him. It might not even be him that was taken…it could be Carl, it could be Carrie…going to Oceanside protected them, but not from everything.

"I bet you're looking forward to seeing Enid," Carrie mentioned, peering at Carl as she sipped her coffee. She was on her second cup now, perhaps pretending it was caffeinated in the hopes that it would help anyway.

"Yeah," Carl nodded.

"You've probably missed her."

"Yeah."

"A lot."

"I guess so."

Carrie paused, glancing at Rick. "She's your girlfriend, right?"

Looking at the table Carl groaned dramatically, his cheeks reddening. "Dad…make her stop."

"Hasn't she been your girlfriend since Valentines day?" Carrie pressed, trying to coax an answer out of him. "Right?"

"None of your business," he cringed.

"It's just, you should do something nice for your one month anniversary."

There was a slight pause before Carl looked up, this having captured his attention. "Why?"

"Because it would be nice."

"Do you think she's expecting something?"

"I don't know. Is she your girlfriend?"

Avoiding this question he turned to Rick now, giving him a look that pled for help. "If she was your girlfriend, flowers on your one month anniversary would be a nice gesture."

Carl did not seem convinced. "You gave Mom flowers once and she threw them at you."

Struck by the sudden memory Rick smiled to himself as he sipped his coffee. "To be fair, I think I deserved it."

"Should have given her a bigger bunch?" Carrie teased.

"Yeah, I was probably being a tight ass."

She grinned, nudging him beneath the table with her foot. "Sounds about right, since you've _got_ a tight ass."

While they burst into laughter Carl groaned, looking at them both in disgust. "That's it," he muttered, taking his last piece of bacon. "I'm outta here."

Still laughing at his expense they watched as he collected some clean clothes and slipped into the adjoining restroom to change, and they were still laughing at his expense when he came back through. Ignoring them he grabbed two of their bags and a box of diapers, getting a start on loading the car without having to be asked. Once he was gone Carrie set down her spoon and got to her feet, and Rick watched in dread as she approached the stroller where Calvin was sleeping.

"Do not wake him," he warned, though he understood the desire to just take a little peek.

"I just want to see him, that's all," she murmured, pulling back the blanket that kept it dark for him. She was silent as she reached in and adjusted the swaddle, but she quickly withdrew her hand and let him be. "Why is it the moment he sees daylight he goes to sleep?"

"It's a cruel trick," he said, nudging her chair to usher her to come back and finish her breakfast.

She joined him again, and though she seemed content overall he could feel the dread lingering in the air. As hard as this impending separation may feel for him, for her it was going to be feel much worse. She would be stuck in a completely foreign place without any way to contact him, and though some friends and family from Alexandria would be there it was sure to be a lonely experience for her. Even with Carl there to help out with Judith and changing the occasional diaper, she was going to be caring for Calvin largely on her own. Nights like the one they had just made it through were going to feel longer and harder alone.

Trying not to think on that too much he let his mind wander, thinking back to the way she had been earlier as she lay in bed nursing Calvin. Throughout her entire labour he had been in awe of her, humbled by what she had endured to bring their child to the world, and those feelings hadn't faded in the days that had passed. He was still in awe of her, trying to remember a time he had ever loved her more than he did right now.

Having noticed his rapt attention she quirked her eyebrows, looking at him suspiciously. "What?"

He only smiled, taking a sip of his coffee as he looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Nothing."

Not believing him, Carrie shook her head with a heavy sigh. "Don't look at me like that," she warned. "Last time you did that, you did that," she reminded him, gesturing to the stroller.

Rick smiled again, wishing they could stay right in this moment forever. "It wasn't so bad."

"Wasn't so bad?" she questioned, her eyes wide as she gave him a playful kick beneath the table. "Four days later and I'm still sitting on an ice pack."

He cringed at this comment, and then appropriately sobered his expression. "We could stay another night," he suggested, half hoping she would agree to it.

The suggestion was no doubt tempting, for she appeared to ponder it a moment, but she shook her head and resumed eating. "It's Judy's birthday. I don't want to miss it."

"She doesn't know. We could celebrate tomorrow."

" _We_ know it's her birthday," she said emphatically, and now she was staring into the bowl of oatmeal. "We've been apart long enough, we're not missing her birthday too."

With this he had to agree, though a growing part of him was disappointed, having hoped that Carrie would give him an excuse for them to stay longer. Making the most of one another's company they finished eating breakfast, lingering as long as possible before making any effort to get the day under way, but the day wouldn't wait forever. Having finished eating he rose and started to clear the table, conscious of the time. When he passed the back of Carrie's chair he slowed, finding his hand reaching out to her shoulder.

Needing it, he let his hand rest on her shoulder as he leant down, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. Lingering there a moment he relished the way she turned towards him, nudging him until he kissed her properly. It was a nice moment, the feeling of her lips on his making him feel like it was just any other day, a cursory kiss before they each went about their day.

"That was nice," she murmured, touching the side of his face and bringing him in for another. "I needed that."

"Me too," he replied, kissing her again. "Try to get some more sleep?"

Letting him go she nodded her head, though she didn't seem to put much faith into the idea. Getting on with it he set about collecting the rest of the things Carrie and Carl would be taking with them to Oceanside, glad to find the portable crib was easier to disassemble than first expected. He left their room with all he could hold, glad to note Carrie sinking back into bed to try and get more sleep while Calvin was restful.

Out by the gates were the two vehicles they would drive down to Oceanside, a large SUV and a flat bed truck to be loaded with supplies. Much of the packing was already underway, Carl, Dianne and Jerry having made an early start. Stacked on the ground were the supplies, plastic tubs full of staple goods, barrels of gasoline and extra solar panels, generators, new mattresses and bedding, various tools and hardware, firewood and two bicycle washing machines.

"Have you seen Daryl around this morning?" he asked as Dianne hauled an enormous bag of winter blankets up to him. "Carrie won't leave until we say goodbye."

"He went out just before dawn, he won't be long."

"Out, where?"

Dianne shrugged, but he noted she was averting her eyes. "I hope you don't think you're driving today," she changed the subject, gesturing for him to get down and help her with a mini fridge. "You've got the _baby kept me up all night_ look."

As if on cue he had to stifle a yawn. "I'm not the only one who had a late night," he reminded her, for she too had been to the meeting with Arat.

"I've had more sleep than you and Carrie combined," she insisted, climbing onto the truck and dragging the mini fridge into place. "Besides, can you even drive a stick?"

Grateful for the light hearted teasing he threw it back at her, almost an hour passing by as they loaded up both vehicles, though when she offered to install the car seat he refused. When Carl was small this had been a task for him as the new father, and it had been the same case for Judith too, but the third time around it would be different. This time he was going to be separated from his child, and so Carrie would have to be able to install a seat with as much ease as he did, just in case. Having all the pieces ready he set them out so he could talk her through the process, and just as he was getting ready to fetch her from their room she arrived.

Little more than an hour of sleep had been gained, but she looked refreshed and better rested, the shadows beneath her eyes and blotchy complexion having cleared up. She looked more like herself now, and as she strode through the gardens with Calvin in the stroller and her coffee cup in hand he had a sudden vision of what she would have been like in the old world. No doubt she would have been one of the yummy mummy's striding around the streets of New York with her designer stroller, making life with her newborn look effortless just as she did now.

"Is it in yet?" she asked, gesturing to the car seat's box.

Though a dirty remark that would have made her laugh came to mind, today he kept it to himself. "I was waiting for you, I need to show you how to install it."

To his surprise she shook her head at him as she secured the foot brakes on the stroller. "What makes you think I don't know how to install a car seat?" she queried, looking into the back seat where all the pieces were waiting.

"Because you've never don…" he trailed off into silence, watching as she looked over the base and then extended the underside latches. With ease she found the anchor points and clipped in the base, giving him a smirk when she extended the support bar to the floor to safely secure it.

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

"How did you know how to do that?" he asked, inspecting her work to ensure it met his satisfaction.

"You underestimate me."

"I should know better," he acknowledged, accepting her kiss on the cheek before turning to Calvin. "He's been sleeping the whole time?"

"Yeah," she nodded, releasing the brakes on the stroller. "No doubt he'll wake up when we're ready to leave and want to nurse again."

"That's our boy."

"I'm going to say goodbye to a few more people. My suit case is still in the room."

"I'll get it for you."

She thanked him with a chaste kiss on the cheek, Rick glancing into the stroller where Calvin lay bundled up in his blankets. He was fast asleep, his tiny fingers curled into a fist by his face, thumb outstretched as if he had been sucking it as he dozed off. For a few moments he lingered there watching him, Carrie letting him look a few moments longer before kissing him on the cheek and getting on her way. No doubt she understood the desire to watch his every moment, even if he were only sleeping.

"Carrie," came Carl's shout in the distance, breathlessly rushing to catch up with her.

Having barely made it five yards she slowed to a stop in exasperation, looking at him over her shoulder. "What?" she asked in exasperation, turning the stroller around and coming back to meet him. "If this is about Judy's cake, it's already organised."

Carl slowed to a stop, his face flushed with exertion as he looked at both of them, and then without a word he looked back the way he had come. Following his gaze Rick too looked, and when he saw Daryl and Lana emerge from around the corner he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Walking by Daryl's side as though it were any other day, was Carol.

She looked well enough given her long absence, though he quickly noted that she walked rather slowly, like she was nursing injuries she was trying to hide. But even the relief of finding her alive and well didn't register, for in that moment he only felt resentment. Carol had left Alexandria without so much as a goodbye, without giving the people who called her family the respect of telling them why, and leaving them without closure. Her selfishness had allowed her to avoid the entire ordeal with Negan when she should have been with them, suffering alongside the family who needed her.

It seemed not one thought of resentment crossed Carrie's mind, for when she saw Carol she gave a low cry of joy. Fumbling to secure the brakes on the stroller she rushed over to Carol without second thought, their mutual relief clear for all to see. Carol had been approaching them in apprehension, unsure of how they would react to seeing her, but she softened at Carrie's reaction. When they embraced Carol clenched her eyes shut, holding her friend tightly as they relished in the sweetness of reunion. Unsure of what to say or do Rick stood there, one hand restlessly fiddling with a clasp on his duty belt as Daryl joined his side.

"So this is where you've been running off to?" he asked. "Looking for her?'

"Found her easy enough. She's been ten minutes away whole time," he muttered, lighting a cigarette and backing away from where Calvin slept in the stroller. "Ran into the Saviours same day we did. Ended up hiding out in the city."

"Why didn't she come back to warn us?" he asked angrily, clenching his jaw. Carol and Carrie were still embracing, and he could see Carrie physically shaking as she held her friend close. "If the Saviours were out on the roads, th-"

"It weren't nothing we didn't know already," he argued, his tone suggesting he had prepared for this resistance. "They caught her near the city, she told 'em she was from the Kingdom, and they roughed her up a bit. That's it."

 _Was it really so simple?_ "She should have come back."

Carrie and Carol had separated now, Carrie still shaking as they spoke quietly to one another, and Carol's face filled with anguish as she listened. Seizing Carrie by the arms she shook her a little, looking her in the eye and saying something only they could hear. What were they saying? Were they talking about Glenn and Abraham, or what happened at the Sanctuary?

"It's done," Daryl muttered, standing his ground. "She's here now."

When Carol turned to him he could see that she was sorry for what she had done, the regret evident in her eyes, but there was only one thing he could do. Tears of joy were streaming down Carrie's cheeks, and as Carol hesitantly approached Carrie was making her position on the matter perfectly clear. He really had no choice in the matter, for others had already spoken for him, indicating that there was only one acceptable response from him. All was forgiven, and there was to be no arguing about it. Doing it for Carrie's sake he held back his resentment and anger, keeping it all at bay as he too embraced Carol. He welcomed her back even though it felt like too little too late.

"I'm sorry Rick…I'm sorry."

 _For leaving? Or for being found?_

"Look," Carrie implored, bringing Carol's attention over to the stroller. "This is Calvin."

Without a second thought Carrie pulled back the blankets and scooped him up, beaming with pride as she brought him into Carol's arms. Much like Daryl had the day he was born Carol held him in her arms and looked at him silently, readjusting his swaddle before stroking his round cheek with her fingertip.

"He's beautiful," she said sincerely, looking up at both of them. "He's just beautiful."

Never turning down the opportunity, Carrie launched into a lengthy recap of his few days of life, Carol hanging on to her every word. Meanwhile Rick was seething on the inside, struggling to hide his true reaction. It was only for Carrie's benefit that he didn't say what was on his mind, for if she wanted Carol forgiven then that's how it was to be, but he didn't have to agree with her.

"I'll get your suitcase," he murmured, touching her on the shoulder as he excused himself.

He had to walk away before he showed what was really on his mind, the resentment and anger. Carrie didn't need to be dealing with that right now, he couldn't burden her with that. Instead he walked with his hands clenched and head bowed, avoiding the gaze of those like Dianne who must have known all along, who had expected him to be overjoyed. To his frustration Daryl's heavy heavy footsteps came behind him, and he quickly fell into step alongside Rick. He glanced up at him as they made their way across Central Park, the tension thick in the air. It felt awkward, neither of them really knowing what to say.

"When you gon' be back?" Daryl asked, wincing as he moved his crossbow to his other shoulder.

"Tonight," he said shortly. _Probably tonight_.

"You got enough people goin' down?"

He nodded, knowing that Daryl was itching to get out of these walls, to make himself useful. "We can't get caught with you. And we need you here," he added, feeling his tone had been a little blunt.

Perhaps he was giving up on trying to smooth things over, for Daryl's pace slowed as they reached their building, allowing Rick to go inside alone. When he entered their room he could feel and see the difference, the room devoid of almost all evidence of the family that had occupied it. By the couch was Carrie's suitcase and another box of diapers, but gone were the scattered toys and children's books, the new crib and rocker. But some things remained, Judith's drawings on the walls, an unwanted pacifier under the couch, a stack of new polaroids on the coffee table.

When he returned alone tonight, this was all that awaited him.

* * *

A/N Any thoughts on the first episode of season 9? Some interesting developments, I'll be sticking around for the entire season, but still feel it's lacking the excitement and uncertainty of the good old days. Loving Carol's shorter hair do!

Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, I'm so thrilled that everyone enjoyed the birth of Carrie and Rick's son!


	67. Chapter 67

It felt strange and peculiar to be out in the world again, to feel the rumble of the car's engine as the world went by. These days travel by car was undertaken only for supply runs and absolutely necessary journeys, with today's journey serving both needs equally, but still it felt unsettling.

In the back seat of the car Carrie was trying to get some rest, to put her head back and close her eyes, but she just couldn't bear it. While normally she might look out the window to enjoy the scenery, hoards of dead notwithstanding, today her only interest was her newborn son. It was impossible not to stare at him for hours on end, to look at something as mundane as the passing scenery when she had him instead. Seated next to him in the car she had her arm draped over his capsule, hand resting on his tummy to provide a comforting weight on top of him. It seemed to have worked, the weight of her hand having finally settled him after he had held them up for over two hours.

When they finally got on the road they barely made it out of the city before Calvin started to fuss, and no amount of comfort or pacifiers would soothe him. Within minutes his unhappy grumbles turned into a full blown wail, his cheeks turning red as he screwed up his face. It was immediately clear to Carrie what he wanted, and as if the way he tried to shove his hands into his mouth wasn't enough his cries elicited a newfound sensation in her breasts. Barely a minute later her bra was soaked, and with two very distinct wet patches on her shirt she asked Jerry to pull the car over.

While everyone else stepped out to keep the area clear of the dead Carrie was forced to sit in the back while Calvin nursed, struggling against his own eagerness in order to get him feeding properly. It took over an hour for him to be satisfied, an hour of them sitting out in the middle of a small town that was too populated with the dead to make it a convenient stop. But even then Calvin had been content only for another thirty minutes, and after filling his diaper with his most sizeable poop yet he cried for her again, forcing their small convoy to come to another stop.

"Don't worry about it," Rick implored, standing by the rear passenger door to keep her company as she nursed. "We planned for a few stops."

"I'm going to have to find a bathroom," she murmured unhappily, feeling some foreboding cramps in her belly. "I think I'm going to bleed through my jeans."

"There's an alleyway a block back, it looked clear."

Looking around at him she cleared her throat expectantly, and he visibly cringed under her withering glare. She had relived herself in a wide variety of places the last few years, but right now she was entitled to a little privacy. Getting the hint he hurriedly assured her they'd find somewhere more suitable, setting Carl to guard the car while he and Dianne went looking for somewhere.

To say she was feeling stressed and anxious was an understatement, made no better by the journey that was not as straight forward as she had hoped. She expected Calvin to sleep the entire time, to be comforted by the rumble of the car's engine and the movement which he seemed to relish. Not once had it crossed her mind that she would breastfeed twice and bleed through her jeans, that she would find herself changing her clothes in a gas station restroom whose walls were covered in the disgusting viscera of the Walkers that had once occupied it.

It felt like she was walking a tightrope, that at any second she was going to fall off and go plummeting to her death, and despite her eagerness to arrive at their destination, doing so brought her closer and closer to Rick's departure. The last five days together had been wonderful, but now they were returning to reality, and Rick was going to war. She hated that they were going to Oceanside, wishing that they could simply abandon everyone and take their family far away. They could settle down somewhere, just the five of them, and everything would be okay because they'd be together.

The more she dwelled on their situation the more it felt like they had been robbed, more specifically that Negan had robbed them. He had taken away what should have been the happiest time in her life. Calvin's birth was wonderful, and it was genuinely the best day of her life, but it was marred now. Rick couldn't stay to bask in it with her, and Negan was the cause. He had robbed her of the opportunity to enjoy her final weeks of pregnancy, and had robbed Rick of the first weeks of Calvin's life, maybe even the first months. If they got it right the war with the Saviours could be over in a matter of a few days, but if things went wrong it would be dragged out far longer…and more people would die.

Even Carol's return wasn't quite enough to stem the growing feeling of dread within her, though the sight of their friend walking through the Kingdom towards them had literally taken Carrie's breath away. It didn't matter that Carol had left with a pitiful note to explain, it didn't matter that she wasn't there for Lana or for her…she was there now, and she was alright. Rick seemed standoffish and cool the entire time, but as if reading her mind he swallowed down whatever it was he was feeling in favour of keeping the peace. She didn't care what he thought about the situation. Carol was back, and that was all that mattered to her.

When she felt the car slowing down Carrie roused from her day dreams, tearing her eyes away from Calvin who was awake again. Peering down the road she looked at the brake lights shining on the rear of the flat bed truck, and she held her breath with anticipation as they continued to slow before making a left hand turn.

"We're nearly here?" Carl asked from the front seat, turning to Jerry.

"Nearly there, little man," Jerry replied jovially, looking eager to arrive. "Five minutes out."

Both looking forward to and dreading their arrival, Carrie reached over and gave Rick a gentle nudge, rousing him from his light sleep. As he sat up he rubbed his eyes, apologising for having fallen asleep, but she didn't mind. It wasn't his fault that Calvin had needed to be fed twice, nor was it his fault she hadn't taken the same opportunity to sleep that he had. She drew his attention back to their son, and though he was noticeably looking out the windows and preparing himself for their imminent arrival he turned to Calvin. His features softened into a warm smile when he saw he was awake, and the hand that had been reaching for his gun now reached for him instead.

"You awake little guy?" he whispered, putting his finger into Calvin's hand and waiting for him to grasp it. "You ready to meet your sister?"

"You're going to love her," Carrie added, enjoying the way Calvin looked at them when they talked to him. "She might take a little bribery to warm up to you though."

Though he gave no response other than blowing a few bubbles of spit her heart just about burst from her chest when he gave a fleeting smile. She knew that it was unintentional, that at his age it was just a reflex, but she didn't give a damn. The little smiles he gave her were like an instant boost, like he did it just to make her feel better, and she suspected that at times it would be his smiles that kept her going.

"Did you see that?" she asked Rick proudly. "Did you see him smile at me?"

"I did," he murmured, using his finger to tickle the corner of Calvin's mouth, trying to encourage him to smile again.

Calvin refused to repeat it, but they were soon distracted from their focus by their arrival at Oceanside, and Carrie looked up just in time to see them pass under the Oceanside Cabin Motor Court sign. She felt the atmosphere in the car change, Carl sitting up a little straighter as he looked around, and then he was smiling as ahead of them a group of people appeared.

While Dianne brought the flatbed around into the large parking lot Jerry continued forward, following the directions of a woman waving them through. Having found something of interest outside the car Carrie tore her attention away from Calvin and looked at her new surroundings, feeling surprisingly endeared by the dense trees and sandy roads flanked by wooden logs. It was for all intents and purposes a standard holiday park, the road bringing them past a log style building marked Reception, outside of which was an expansive garden overlooked by a large children's playground. The play equipment was bright and colourful, the swing sets and see-saws looking well maintained, and it was made all the more appealing by the sight of the three toddlers happily playing on it, their shouts and squeals of delight audible even from inside the car.

Unable to help herself Carrie started grinning, always feeling taken aback and surprised to find other people living their lives in this world, to find a community that had taken back control and made something worth living for. As they continued past the gardens and playground they slowed down again, their car passing another log style building marked Cafe and Convenience Store, and they passed what must have once been a recreation area. The wide open space was now occupied with an arrangement of garden beds and picnic tables at which children sat with books and pencils, no doubt in a school session, but the moment their car approached they looked up in excitement.

The arrival was met with great enthusiasm, the children dropping their pencils before scrambling to get up from the picnic tables, while elsewhere adults were already converging on them. When Jerry brought the car to a stop Carrie breathed a sigh of relief when the people stopped before getting too close, having had brief visions of their car being mobbed as if they were the adoring fans of rockstars. It took only a brief glance to differentiate who were the hosts and who were the refugees. Faces she recognised vaguely were from the Hilltop or the Kingdom, interspersed with the familiar faces of the Alexandrians like Barbara and Aaron. Those she didn't recognise were the Oceansiders, the people Lana had helped escape from Negan…Arat's family.

While most people kept a polite distance from the car, a certain few came forward without hesitation, and the moment Maggie emerged from the crowd holding the hand of Judith Carrie all but lunged for the door. The interior locks disengaged the moment Jerry brought the car to a complete stop, allowing her to rush out and go straight towards her daughter, unable to think of anything other than bringing her back into her arms. She knew she had missed Judith, that after their too brief reunion she had been looking forward to seeing her again, but seeing her in the flesh made that desire even stronger.

A brief look of surprise crossed Judith's face, for though she had been looking at the car in curiosity she hadn't been prepared for Carrie. But her face instantly lit up when she realised, and she gave a beaming smile as Carrie picked her up with a low groan of exertion. She was heavier than she remembered, perhaps having forgotten after days of holding Calvin who felt so light in her arms, but with no problem at all she brought Judith up into her arms and held her close. Not giving a damn that tears were springing up in her eyes she peppered her little girl's cheeks with kisses, overcome with joy when she laughed and cringed in response.

"Oh, I've missed you Judy Pie," she gushed, smiling at her before looking her up and down. "Mommy missed you so much."

Judith beamed in delight, giggling unabashedly as Carrie peppered her with kisses again.

"She knew you were coming, just not _when_ ," Maggie explained, giving her a welcoming hug. "She's been talking about you non stop."

"Talking non stop?" she chuckled, looking at Judith who was indeed yabbering away. "Did you know it's your birthday today?" she asked, continuing when she frowned. "It's your birthday. You're two now."

"Two now," Judith murmured, looking to Maggie for clarification.

"That's right, you're two," Carrie repeated, jostling her playfully before turning around to find Rick. "You're a big girl, you're not a baby any more."

"I _am_ big girl," she proudly insisted, this having been a recent assertion.

"You're two," she repeated again, coaching her to say it herself. "Say, I'm two."

At the car Rick had taken Calvin's carrier out, holding it as Tara tied a dozen of the helium balloons around the handle. She looked beside herself with excitement, hands trembling as she divided her focus between tying a secure knot and cooing down at Calvin, not noticing when one of the balloons went astray and floated away. Meanwhile Rick glanced up and caught Carrie's eye, the two of them sharing an endearing smile, proud of how excited everyone was for their new addition.

It took quite some time for the fuss of their arrival to die down, the Oceansiders literally herding their people to move back and give them some space, meanwhile the Alexandrian's came forward to look at Calvin, asking for his name and then excitedly congratulating them. The entire time Carrie stood there with Judith on her hip, waiting for the chaos to die down before bringing her closer to her new baby brother. She let Carl say hello to her, Rick taking a kiss and cuddle before he took his turn to hold her a while, he too having missed her.

"How are you feeling?" Maggie asked her, standing by her side as the fuss died down. "You doing okay?"

Carrie took a moment to think on this, conscious that her emotions were all over the place right now, that the warnings of mood swings had not been exaggerated. She watched on as Carl continued showing his brother around, Calvin having closed his eyes and gone back to sleep while everyone gazed at him adoringly.

"I think I'm okay," she said honestly, conscious that however she answered Maggie would understand. "It changes hour to hour," she joked lightheartedly. "But I think I'm okay."

"Good," Maggie sighed, patting her on the shoulder. "I'm glad you're here safe. All of you."

As if to echo this sentiment, Herschel who she carried on her chest let out a loud squeal, perhaps not understanding why the usual attention wasn't focused on him. For the first time ever he had been upstaged by his cousin, which was perhaps how Judith felt upon his arrival several months ago.

Around them things were in full swing, people already setting to work to unload the supplies from the flatbed truck. While the children had all been ushered back to the picnic tables where they would finish their lesson, most others had resumed their former occupation too, not that there weren't plenty of curious glances their way. Going about what needed to be a delicate process, Rick was holding Judith by the hand and bringing her over to Calvin, quickly glancing over his shoulder and ushering Carrie to join them. Thanking Maggie one last time for taking care of Judith she hastened to join them, adoring the look of cautious interest in their daughter's eyes.

"This is your baby brother," Rick said gently, encouraging her to come closer. "His name is Calvin."

Judith's lips moved as she murmured something, and though she looked at him long and hard her attention was momentarily captured by the balloons floating above his carrier. Her eyes widened as she looked up at them in desire, but at Rick's encouragement she turned back to the baby.

"Look," he said, pulling back the blankets and showing her Calvin's small hands. "He's just like Herschel, but little."

"Liddle," she repeated, looking at him a little uncertainly.

Without warning she bent down and reached for him, and Carrie held her breath in apprehension, ready to lunge in order to protect Calvin from his sister's accidental harm, but it wasn't necessary. With Rick coaching her she tentatively touched her brother's hand, giving a loud squeal of delight before quickly jumping back. She grinned and stamped her feet, looking up at Carrie and awaiting her praise as if she had completed a task, praise which was freely given.

"His name is Calvin," Rick repeated, trying to help her understand. "He's your baby brother."

"Baby?" she asked, turning around and pointing to Maggie and Herschel.

"He's going to live with us," Rick clarified. "He's _our_ baby brother, so he lives with us."

Judith's brow furrowed as she tried to connect the dots, to create meaning from what he had told her, and just as Carrie had braced herself for an unhappy reaction, Judith pointed upwards.

"A buh'loon," she eagerly requested, looking to Rick. "Buh'loon."

"Calvin brought you these balloons," Rick told her, acquiescing by untying one of them from the carrier's handle. "Calvin brought these balloons for your birthday."

"For me," she agreed, grinning excitedly as Rick tied it around her wrist. "Mom, look!"

Before Carrie could do her the honour of admiring the balloon Judith was racing around to show everyone else, excitedly waving her hand around and watching as the balloon bobbed up and down. It was a relief that the introduction seemed to have gone so well, that she was more excited about the balloons than the significant life event of becoming an older sister. Tempted by the balloons the other children had abandoned their schoolwork and rushed over again, ignoring the protests of their exasperated teacher.

"That went well, I think," she said to Rick, watching as he untied the rest of the balloons and handed them to Carl to distribute.

"I think so too," he agreed, rising and picking up Calvin's carrier. "Let's see how it goes when she realises he's staying forever."

Though she dreaded having to deal with that realisation, particularly as it would be her alone to manage Judith's reaction, but she managed a smile. In no time at all Maggie was ushering them to follow her, the news that they were being shown to their cabin coming as a relief to Carrie. Now that the excitement was dying down she was coming back to herself again, remembering how tired and spent she was, how uncomfortable her body felt.

Letting Rick carry Calvin in the carrier she walked on ahead behind Maggie, she and Carl holding Judith's hands as she walked between them. Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest with happiness, for though she dreaded Rick's imminent departure she had forgotten the sweetness of reunion, of how right it felt being back with Judith. This had been what she wanted all along, for her baby to be born safely, and for their family to be together. Rick notwithstanding, she had exactly that.

The cabin they were taking them to seemed like it was right on the edge of the camp, and it backed onto the dense trees that surrounded them. But while at first she worried the sound of a crying baby might be too risky at the edge of camp, when Maggie commented that her cabin was right next door she felt a little more confident. Nonetheless she found herself constantly looking into the trees, feeling rather vulnerable without walls and fences to provide protection.

"You don't need to worry about the woods," Maggie assured her, having noticed where her focus lay. "The trees are so dense the Walkers rarely get through, and there's plenty of wire and spikes to keep them back."

"It's a no go zone if you want to take a walk anywhere," Tara added. "The spikes practically come up from no where. Stick to the paths."

Not commenting that a walk through Walker infested woods was the last thing on her mind, Carrie nodded and listened, trusting their reassurances. Everyone else seemed completely at ease, small children wandering around and playing without concern. There were no Walkers here, and while there were people quite clearly on guard for threats both dead and alive, everyone seemed not to be worrying.

"Where's the leader?" she enquired, having anticipated that they would be there to greet and scrutinise the new refugees. "Natania?"

"Probably at home," Maggie said, she and Tara exchanging a glance. "She's been keeping mostly to herself."

"She didn't want any involvement in this," Tara explained. "Anyone who volunteered to fight went against her wishes."

"Does she not want us here?"

"She hasn't said that outright," Maggie assured her. "But I don't think she'd mind if we left. It's why we're bringing so many supplies. We're trying to smooth the waters in case this becomes long term."

"What's she going to do, kick us out?"

"She could try," Rick said darkly, his tone an assurance that it wasn't going to happen.

"You'll see her later today," Maggie continued. "She's fond of Judy, so I'm sure she'll be at her party."

When they arrived at the quaint cabin that would be Carrie's home indefinitely she found it difficult to express any enthusiasm or gratitude. She ought to at least be grateful she and her children had somewhere safe to seek refuge, that there was a warm place for them to sleep at night without fear of Walkers or Saviours, but it was hard to feel anything other than frustration. This wasn't where she wanted to be…it wasn't where she was _supposed_ to be.

Wrenching her hands out of Carrie and Carl's grip Judith raced off towards the cabin, calling Carl's name as she strode up the two steps onto the small porch. She wished she could be like a two year old, that she could see this as something new and exciting to be explored, but it took everything she had to follow. The porch was large enough to hold a coffee table and two deck chairs, the beach decorations on the walls old and weathered, but endearing nonetheless. On her left was a small window through which she could see a cramped kitchen, one from which she would be able to see out towards the rest of the camp.

"You okay?" Rick whispered, coming to her side and slipping his hand into hers.

She nodded, stalling for a moment before doing anything. Maggie had opened the front door to let Judith and Carl inside, and before Carrie followed them in she squeezed Rick's hand and then let it go, trying to get used to the idea of not having her partner by her side. She entered into a living area, two small bedrooms opposite and the kitchen around to her left. In appearance it was a typical beach shack, the white wood panelled wall bringing a comforting charm from the world before, and while overall it was a little worn and rough around the edges it was clean and inviting. The couch in the living room seemed soft and comfortable with no shortage of cushions, and the small table near the pot bellied fire place would be just large enough to seat a family of four.

"Look!" Judith called out to her, rushing into the corner where a plastic tub of children's toys awaited her. With great delight she tugged at the lid, stamping her feet in excitement as Carl helped her take it off. "Mom, look!"

Hiding a sigh of exasperation, for the last thing she wanted to be doing was looking at children's toys, Carrie followed her over and looked. She was glad she did, feeling her heart warming as Judith rejoiced over a few simple toys, her face lighting up when she found the pieces to a wooden railway set. As she appeased Judith's need for her attention Rick set Calvin's carrier down onto the coffee table and dropped the baby bag onto the couch.

"I'll get the rest of our stuff," he murmured, brushing his hand over her side as he passed her by.

For a moment she had to stifle the urge to ask him not to go, feeling like a clingy teenager who needed to be with her boyfriend every minute of the day. Leaving Judith to continue perusing the box of toys she let Maggie show her around a little more, taking note that the kitchen was equipped with a microwave and a large canteen marked _drinking water_ , while sitting under the counter was a brand new mini fridge still in the box. When she and Rick had reunited with Judith, Dianne and Jerry had set about unpacking and getting this place set up for her, while Maggie and others had been preparing for her arrival for days now. There were boxes of food stored in the open shelves, tea and coffee set up by an electric kettle and a toaster. Nearby a glass jar was crammed full of cookies, the handwritten label reading _Lactation Cookies - New Mamas Only_.

"Do you want to see the rest?" Maggie offered.

Carrie nodded, looking at Calvin who continued to sleep peacefully in his carrier. With Carl keeping an eye on his younger siblings she followed Maggie as she showed her to the bedrooms. The smaller of the two was made up of bunk beds, the lower already made up with bedding, pillows and soft toys for Judith, while the top was unmade with a bare mattress and bedding tossed up. All in all it was as clean and comfortable as the rest of the place, exactly what Carl and Judith needed the coming weeks. The main bedroom was dominated by the bed, two night stands and a bureau, and as she looked around she grit her teeth in annoyance. Where was she going to put the crib?

"I was thinking we'd move the bed against the wall," Maggie suggested, somehow knowing exactly what was on her mind. "It's what I had to do in my room to fit Herschel's crib."

"It'll fit," she muttered, reminding herself that Calvin's crib was only a bassinet size, that he would be growing out of it in a few months.

"The bathroom has running water," Maggie continued, showing her through there next. "But only cold. If you want warm water to clean up with you can boil it, or someone can bring it to you."

"Okay."

"Those first few weeks I lived for hot showers," she continued sympathetically. "Especially when my milk came in."

"I think that's already happening," she said lightly, glancing down at her chest. It had only been a few hours since she changed her clothes halfway through their journey here, but she could tell that any minute now her nursing pads were going to be soaked through again.

"I'll make sure you get hot water twice a day," Maggie offered. "We have everything we need right here."

Carrie hesitated, unsure of what to say, for it was painfully clear that they didn't have everything they needed. Glenn's body was rotting Alexandria's cemetery, while Rick was about to go to war with the Saviours, and soon he too could be rotting in the ground. But this wasn't something she could near to say out loud, nor was she ready to acknowledge Glenn and Abraham's losses, so she turned their conversation to something else. In the privacy of the bathroom she voiced her concerns, the reassurances of Brea and Carol still not quite enough to put her mind at ease.

"Calvin is feeding every two hours," she said lowly, praying that Maggie would understand. "He's _always_ hungry. Always."

At this she sympathised, giving her a grim smile as she readjusted the way Herschel sat in the carrier on her chest. "Is he peeing and pooping?"

"Not as much as I expected, but he is."

"He's getting enough to eat," she said, looking her in the eye. "He's just got a tiny stomach, that's all. Herschel was the same. He might not even be hungry, he might just want to be close to you."

"I guess so," she murmured, turning around to look back into the living room. Judith had set aside her toys in favour of Calvin, and at Carl's encouragement she was talking to him sweetly as she peered at him.

"How are your nipples?"

At this Carrie chuckled, for that type of intrusive question was now common place. "Used," she said dryly, unsure of how else to describe them.

Maggie sighed, knowing all too well. "It will get better, I promise. Everything will get better."

"Thanks," she said quietly, feeling a sudden surge of emotion welling up in her. "I needed to hear that."

Anything else to be said was cut off by the arrival of their belongings, Rick, Dianne and Jerry arriving with their bags and array of baby things. Coming out of the bathroom Carrie thanked them as they did their best to arrange it all, their suitcases going into each respective room, while the majority of Calvin's things were dumped into the corner to be sorted.

"Is there much more to bring?" Maggie asked, jostling Herschel when he grabbed at her shirt and tried to pull it aside.

"This is the last of it," Michonne declared, carrying in a large plastic tub of preserved and prepackaged food. "The rest of Carrie's food is going to the main refrigerator."

"We should let them settle in," she suggested tactfully, turning to Carl. "We can show you around the cabins and the recreation area, and the beach is only a five minute walk."

"Really?" he frowned, his face lighting up with Enid nodded. "Let's go."

"Take your sister," Rick instructed, ushering Judith to zip up her coat before letting Carl take her out.

In a few short minutes everyone there cleared out but for the two of them, Jerry and Dianne closing the door behind themselves as they gave them some privacy. Relieved for the peace and quiet Carrie took a deep breath and made her way over to Calvin, annoyed to find that everyone's attention had roused him. He was waking up again, eyes slowly opening and closing as he looked around with a large yawn.

"What do you think?" Rick asked, trying to break the silence.

It took her a moment to answer, for she was starting to feel overwhelmed. She didn't want to tell him that it was fine, that it was okay for him to leave her here with their family…but nor did she want him to worry about them. He needed to be able to focus on fighting Negan, on staying alive, not worrying about her.

"I think it's good."

She tried to sound cheerful, but her voice betrayed her, and her words came out as a strained whisper. Everything started building up inside, tears welling up as she held back from asking him to stay, from begging him not to go. Seeing her state he approached her, seeking only to offer comfort, but the touch of his hand on her shoulder felt like it was burning her, as did his gentle kiss on the cheek. She shrugged him off and then cleared her throat, wishing he wasn't so attentive right now.

"I just need a minute," she muttered awkwardly, averting her eyes as she picked up the baby bag that served her needs as much as Calvin's.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks before she could even close the bathroom door, and she knew Rick had seen them, but to her relief he didn't follow, instead choosing to give her the space she asked for. Wishing there was a lock on the bathroom door she dropped the bag to the floor and allowed herself a few moments to cry, hating everything that was happening to her right now. It was bad enough that Rick had to go, but her body was in all sorts of discomfort right now, her ailments more numerous than she had expected, and it was all becoming too much. She felt strange now that she had given birth, the comforting sensation of her baby inside her now replaced by an emptiness. Instead of kicks she had painful cramps and constant bleeding, while her generous cleavage was now even more tender than before.

Though he was merely on the other side of the door she missed Calvin already, and wanting to get back to him she quickly tried to collect herself. For a few minutes she took care of her own needs, and as she redressed she touched her hands to her belly, lifting her shirt and looking at it. She still looked noticeably pregnant, and though she hadn't expected to snap back to her previous shape it was still disconcerting, her round belly only contributing to the strange emptiness she felt. Her skin was now mottled and unsightly, the silvery stretch marks even more pronounced. Other women had proudly shown her their stretch marks, Maggie included, but right now she couldn't imagine much worse than showing someone what had happened to her body.

When she came out of the bathroom she felt marginally better, having taken the time to wash her face with the cold water that came from the tap. Rick was waiting for her on the couch holding Calvin in his arms, and though he looked up at her in concern he didn't make a big deal of it. Instead he let her spend a few minutes taking another look around, noting that someone had already made up Carl's bed on the top bunk, while in her bedroom the crib had been assembled. The sheets and mobile were already in place, everything arranged just the way she liked it.

"You set his crib up?" she enquired when she came back, continuing when Rick nodded. "Thanks."

She joined him on the couch, but given her prior rejection of her touch he didn't reach out to her. Instead he simply moved a little closer, letting her gaze at Calvin who was presently sucking on his little finger.

"I think he's catching on that I tricked him."

"Was he hungry?"

"I'm not sure, he was just a little fussy."

He glanced up at her, and though he probably wanted to hold their son as much as he could he passed him over. Taking him gratefully she laid him onto her lap, watching as he spluttered unhappily now that Rick's finger was gone from his mouth. With the cabin feeling surprisingly warm for this time of year Carrie opened his blankets and then undressed him, leaving him in only his diaper. Feeling much more confident handling this tiny, fragile body than she had in those first few days she slipped him inside her shirt so he could lay against her skin, and his fussiness started to ease a little. But still he grumbled unhappily, even when she covered him with another blanket to keep him warm, and so she lowered the cup of her bra and let him nurse yet again.

"I love watching this," Rick murmured, reaching over and stroking Calvin's dark tufts of hair. "I could watch him doing this all day."

His comment took her by surprise, for although she had known him to be loving and tender, he seemed to have taken a largely utilitarian approach when she was breastfeeding. He would make a fuss of ensuring she had pillows and a glass of water, moving over the coffee table so she could put her feet up, but she'd not noticed him admiring it. Perhaps she had been too wrapt in Calvin to notice anything else.

"Maybe I can start expressing so you can feed him from a bottle."

"If you want," he said, still stroking Calvin's head. "Whatever works for you, do it."

Knowing what would work for her right now she ushered him to come closer, craving his touch. They settled in together, his arm around her shoulder while she leaned back into his embrace, all three of them kept warm by the blanket he pulled from the back of the couch. It was absolutely perfect, Calvin happily nursing while Rick was there by her side, watching every moment and admiring it as much as she did. Now the touch of his body was a comforting presence, and she remembered those nights at the Sanctuary when she put a pillow behind her back as she slept, needing to feel like he was there with her.

"Tomorrow, let's go to the beach. The five of us."

Carrie held her breath, poised between misunderstanding and hope. "Tomorrow?"

Rick nodded, bringing his face down so that he could nuzzle the top of her head. "I want to stay the night."

"You don't have to," she said tentatively, still holding her breath. "I…I know I was upset before, but you don't have to."

"I want to," he said emphatically. "I want to stay."

She didn't argue, she didn't tell him again that it was okay to go. Instead she fell silent again, knowing that she couldn't find the words to express what the change of plans meant to her. Now that it was time she had been dreading the thought of being without him, of going to sleep at night in an empty bed and being the only one to wake up and look after Calvin. Carl would a wonderful help, she had doubt in his commitment to his siblings, but it wouldn't be the same. But for one more night, she didn't have to worry about that, she didn't have to worry about the war.

* * *

The next morning came quickly…too quickly.

Having been awake for the better part of an hour Carrie watched on as sunlight crept through the drapes, softly illuminating their room. Despite another night of broken sleep she felt rested and peaceful as she lay there in bed, Calvin beside her warm and content, while on the other side of the bed Judith and Rick were sleeping soundly. Quiet moments like this were exactly what she had dreamed of those ten days at the Sanctuary, and reality didn't fail to deliver on the dream.

Gurgling happily Calvin was fed and burped, perfectly content as he lay there in his warm blankets. Unable to take her eyes off him Carrie gazed at him adoringly, feeling proud of the way he lifted his legs into the air and then lowered them down again, intermittently kicking out at nothing. Every now and then his mouth would widen as his eyes lit up, and though it was but a reflex the sight of him smiling still made her heart swell. Before he came she really had no idea how much she would love him, how she would chose to stay awake watching him rather than take the opportunity to sleep.

Putting her hand in the way she let him kick at her palm, catching his tiny feet and gently pushing them back up towards his body. He resisted her at first, making an effort to push back until she relented, allowing him to push her hand away. As they lay there together she wondered what he was feeling…safe and content, yes…but triumphant? Did he know how well he was doing? Did he know how great it was he could hold his head up already?

Their first day at Oceanside had gone well, surprisingly well in fact. As expected it took some time for them to really settle in, for Carrie to come around to the fact that this was her home for the indefinite future. But they were unpacked now, their quaint beach cabin becoming their home the moment Judith's toys were scattered about and their clothes were put into the wardrobe. They had eaten together last night, the four of them crammed around the table while Judith entertained them with her antics, refusing to let anyone help her with her knife and fork even though half her food ended up on her lap.

Her birthday party had been a roaring success, far greater than Carrie had anticipated. She had been prepared to cut the cake, open the presents and then call it a day, but their family and the Oceansiders hadn't allowed it to pass without fuss. Her plans had just been the start of it, for after Judith awoke from her afternoon nap a true birthday party began, the new two year old becoming the focus of attention as the kids played party games to celebrate her milestone. The picnic tables had been decorated with streamers and a Happy Birthday banner, Tara leading them through games and songs and generally keeping them entertained. The cake had been a success, how could it not be, and Judith had the time of her life, barely able to sit still when the all came together for a family picture, their first since becoming a family of five.

Fussing and grumbling a little, Judith was slowly rousing from her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open to find a beam of light across her face, making her cringe and whine as she rubbed her face. Remembering what she had been like lately Carrie reached over to the nightstand and then passed her bottle of water, coaxing her to take a sip when she was awake enough. As she lay there drinking her water Judith smiled at her sleepily, though it was marred by a look of surprise when she noticed Calvin next to her. She peered at him, having not expected to see him there.

"Do you need to go potty?" Carrie asked, having noticed already that Judith's diaper was dry.

She didn't answer, giving a heavy sigh as she set her water aside and then pushed herself up to her knees. Still giving Calvin a strange expression she shuffled over, necessitating Carrie swiftly move him out of the way lest he be stepped on. Not understanding, Judith swiftly took his place and laid down next to Carrie, snuggling up with her as she sucked her thumb.

She swiftly pulled Judith's thumb out of her mouth. "Where's your ducky?" she asked, rifling through the sheets for it.

Judith shrugged without concern, her attention focused on Calvin who was trying his hardest to look up at her. It was taking all his strength to do it, but he persistently turned his head upward to see her, his eyes wide as he looked her over, learning her face. Doing much the same thing Judith watched him in return, and though she sensed a small element of annoyance, Carrie didn't think she was outright jealous.

"Can you help Mommy?" she asked a few minutes later, peppering her cheek with little kisses. "Mommy needs your help."

Eager to be needed Judith looked up at her, listening closely as Carrie murmured a few words to her. Kissing her on the cheek she slowly rose from the bed and got to her feet, putting on her slippers and dressing gown while keeping close watch of the two children who lay together. Coaxing Judith to get up too she helped her into her own slippers and dressing gown, and while Rick continued sleeping she crept around their room to prepare for the day.

"Do you think Calvin did a poop?" she whispered, trying to sound excited about it.

Judith shrugged halfheartedly, watching on as Carrie laid him onto the foot of the bed and opened the bottom of his onesie, but the moment the cool air hit his skin he screwed his face up. Waiting for the cry Carrie braced herself, mentally preparing for the sounds of his distress that she was learning to shut out as required. Unhappy with the change he started to cry, mouth opening wide as he gave a loud squawk of discontent, and she tried to ignore the feeling of guilt. It felt like he was crying out to her in despair, asking why she wasn't keeping him warm.

"It's a poop!" Judith exclaimed, her eyes widening the moment Carrie opened the diaper. She pointed at him in astonishment and looked up at Carrie. "A poop."

"That's right, a poop," Carrie agreed, lowering her voice to encourage her to do the same. Rick's breathing had changed, a few movements suggesting that the excited shout had woken him. "Can you pass me a wipe?" she asked, trying to make her feel included.

"It's yeh-low," Judith said proudly, staring at it as if entranced. "Yellow."

"Can you pass me a wipe," she repeated, cringing when Rick moved again. "A wipe, Judy. Pass me a wipe, please."

Still somewhat astonished by what Calvin had done Judith slowly acquiesced, passing over a single wipe and watching on as Carrie cleaned him up. Though his crying necessitated that she make quick work of it, she couldn't help but feel proud that he had pooped, reassured that he was doing all the things a baby ought to be doing.

As she redressed him Rick lifted his head from the pillows, and he looked at her with a heavy sigh. "Wha' time is it?"

"Go back to sleep," she said, feeling bad that he had awoken. Though she had been awake three times to breastfeed, he had been the one tasked with winding and changing Calvin, with walking back and forth around the living room trying to get him back to sleep.

Rick rubbed his face now, considering the suggestion. "You sure?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "Get some more sleep."

Muttering his thanks he turned over onto his front and tried to get comfortable, but just as quickly as he settled he was grimacing in annoyance, digging around in the sheets before pulling out Judith's yellow duck. Unable to speak around a yawn he lazily tossed the duck towards Judith before laying back down, trying to get just a little more rest. Bundling Calvin back up to keep him nice and warm she tried to soothe him, gently bouncing him in her arms as she ushered Judith out. Leaving Rick to sleep in peace she made her way into the living room, glad to find that the fire was still smouldering, that he must have added another piece of wood during the night.

"We'll have oatmeal for breakfast," Carrie decided, still swaying back and forth with Calvin whose eyes were fluttering as he went to sleep. "Can you get the bowls, Judy?"

Setting her to a task Carrie directed her to set the table with two bowls and spoons, keeping her busy as she went about the delicate task of setting Calvin down. She knew she could carry him on her chest the way Maggie did with Herschel, but she hadn't quite gotten the hang of the wrap she used, and she didn't want to bother fumbling around with it while everyone else was trying to sleep. Instead she bided her time and then slowly lowered him into the cradle of the electric swing they had been gifted by the Kingdom, but the moment her hands left him his eyes flew open just as she knew they would. He gave her an accusatory stare, lips wobbling around a wail he was mustering up, but just as quickly she turned on the rocking motion and comforted him, stroking his cheek and then letting her hand linger on his chest.

At the sound of his fussing Judith came over and peered down at him, yet she was still giving her brother a strange look, wondering why he was there, why Carrie was tending to him instead of her. Nevertheless she waited patiently, and when he settled and Carrie got back to her feet she all but tugged on her sweatpants and pulled her into the kitchen.

"Breakfast," she enunciated clearly, always trying a little harder when she wanted something. "Please."

Praising her for her patience Carrie hastily set about preparing breakfast, feeling her own stomach rumbling in hunger. In the living room Calvin began fussing again, small whimpers that compelled her to come back to his side immediately, but before she could agonise over it for too long he fell silent. Pouring some oatmeal into a saucepan and adding water she set it onto the stove and gave it a quick stir, continually glancing into the living room as she worked. She could see his eyes drifting closed again, the rocking motion helping lull him back to sleep…typical. The moment dawn broke he was content to sleep, but had fought it with all he had for the hours prior.

"Some apple," Judith requested, trying to reach up to the counter where they had some fruit in a bowl.

"Apple in the oatmeal?" Carrie clarified.

"And some way-sins too!" she said excitedly, stamping her feet on the linoleum as she tried to look around for more ideas. "And peanuts!"

"Okay, okay," Carrie cut her off, trying not to laugh. "Apple and raisins, but that's all."

"That's all," Judith agreed, her excitement waning for a moment until Carrie lowered the fruit bowl and told her to pick an apple.

Wishing she had thought to boil water for a little tea she served the breakfast up, making sure to take an adequate meal for herself without rationing it too much. Everyone had been driving home that typical rations did not apply to her throughout her pregnancy and while she was breastfeeding, reaping the benefits of being able to enjoy as many calories as she damn well liked. While she was pregnant no one begrudged her for ploughing through cupcake after cupcake, and that wasn't going to change now.

With breakfast served she and Judith sat down together, the little girl refusing all help to get up onto the chair so she could sit at the table. She was enjoying no longer having a high chair to sit in, and she proudly sat at the table with her family as they ate dinner last night, though they had been making use of a booster seat so that she could see her food.

"It's good," Judith smiled, looking at Carrie across the table as they ate together.

"I'm glad you like it," she smiled back, agreeing thoroughly. "Do you remember how old you are now?"

She frowned for a moment, gauging the question before taking another spoonful of oatmeal. "I'm two."

"Good girl."

A comfortable silence came over them as they ate, and from her particular seat at the table Carrie could see everything. Peering through the door left ajar she looked at the bed where Rick was sprawled out asleep, while in the second bedroom she could see Carl's reflection in a mirror, his arm dangling over the side of the bunk bed, he too asleep. Calvin was in his rocking swing in the living room, still fast asleep with no sign of waking, but if her full breasts were anything to go by he'd be hungry again soon. The day's routine of eating, pooping and sleeping would continue, meanwhile Carrie, Judith and Carl would prepare for Rick's departure, which she knew had to couldn't be delayed any longer. He had already spent the night instead of returning to the Kingdom, she couldn't ask him to stay much longer than he already had.

Distracted from her breakfast, Judith was looking over her shoulder at Calvin, brow furrowed as she observed him, and Carrie longed to know what was going through her head right now. Had it hit home yet that her baby brother was there to stay? That this was his home now? Or was she caught up in feelings of displacement, worried that she wasn't a priority anymore?

"Judy," Carrie said, repeating her name until she looked around at her. "I love you."

Though it was a distracted mumble, for her attention immediately went back to her breakfast, Judith returned her words of affection, looking content as she continued eating. Every now and then she kept looking back at her brother, Carrie repeatedly telling herself that it was out of curiosity, not feelings of displacement. Finishing her food first Judith climbed down from her chair and then made her way back into the living room, struggling with her dressing gown that had slipped down from her shoulders. For a few moments she looked at Calvin with a blank expression, but as if neither endeared nor bothered by his presence there she simply turned on her heel and came back to Carrie.

"Ahhh, more?" she requested, reaching up for her empty bowl. "More please."

Beginning to feel much better about everything, Carrie acquiesced. As she added a little more oatmeal to Judith's bowl and then watched her climb back up to her seat she felt strangely okay, better prepared for what was to come next. Rick was about to leave their family, to be gone for an indefinite period of time while he and their people fought a war against the Saviours. He might not come back…or he might not come back the same. But she felt better about the coming weeks than she had yesterday, having come to accept that they had to do this, regardless of the risks. Rick's part in this was fighting the war, and her part was to keep their children safe, all three of them. Divide and conquer, that's all they were doing.

With or without Rick, she knew she could handle whatever came next.

* * *

A/N Bit of a delay with the next chapter (it's a shambles) but I hope you enjoyed this one - please leave a review, I'm working super hard on the upcoming chapters!


	68. Chapter 68

Hi readers, thanks for your patience with this chapter - there's a lot going on, a lot covered, but an important chapter right before we get into the nitty gritty of the war. Enjoy!

* * *

Thursday, March 27

For once the weather had taken a particularly nice turn, for once actually feeling like a nice Spring day. But the convenient turn of the weather was lost on those who would normally enjoy it, for marring the day as usual were the Saviours. Holding back a yawn of exhaustion he watched as Arat prowled through the supplies to inspect their offering, wondering if she had set him up. He was giving them less than they did last week, it was a pitiful offering in comparison, but he was doing so per her instructions.

This was Alexandria's second tribute since he left Carrie and their family at Oceanside, and the second tribute that had been overseen entirely by Arat. Despite his insistence that he would be front and centre every time Negan hadn't shown since the day he and Rick reached an agreement of terms. He hadn't shown for the scheduled pick up last week, nor for any surprise visit he had darkly promised. Behind the scenes Arat had been working at him, encouraging him to keep his distance, all part of her plan to take up leadership of the outpost that would oversee Alexandria.

A week and a half had passed with unusual speed, the days slipping by faster than Rick could keep up with them. The allied communities had been meeting frequently, having pinned down the plan of using Walkers against the Sanctuary to force a surrender. Carol, Tara and Daryl were already out doing dry runs with small clusters of Walkers, nothing to the scale of the enormous herd that was currently going around in circles on the highway network, but they were making headway.

Regardless of who surrendered or was killed during the first confrontation, the Walkers were going to make it to the Sanctuary. The herd was not to be called off, and so it would be up to Arat to ensure that the workers and innocent people made it to the upper levels before they broke through. The allies had to buy themselves time to take out the other outposts, and they had to make sure that whoever surrendered had suffered enough pressure to make it a genuine submission.

When Rick and the others were satisfied with the surrender they would hit their emergency stop button, the Fat Lady. They needed to seize control of her the very day they attacked, bringing her nearby so that when it was time to pull the plug they could immediately free the people inside and take charge…that said, anyone whose surrender Rick didn't want to accept was going to die. Simon, Dwight, Gavin…they were going down if they so much as looked at him sideways.

Did that make him a dictator? A war criminal? He wasn't so sure where the line was, but was it so wrong to take a hard stance on who got to live in the new world and who was excluded? He couldn't make the mistake of killing Negan only for someone else to step into his shoes and take his place, to try and regain the Saviours' former power. Negan had some kind of sick control over his people, a loyalty to the cause that would not be easily broken.

It was this concern that called into question their plans for after. Many successful wars had ultimately been lost in the long term because of what happened in the aftermath, because of the chaos and power struggle that ensued. Were they going to leave the surrendered Saviours to go about their lives again, to risk them building up strength to fight back just as the allies had done? Rick wasn't so sure, but Ezekiel seemed confident in the future, as did the Kingdomers. Perhaps that was the way it needed to be. Rick would lead the war, while Ezekiel and the Kingdom would lead what was left after, setting the path for the way forward just as he had for his own people.

Despite his many uncertainties, everything else was coming together. They had divided into teams, people were preparing to fight together and rehearsing the plans. Most of the Oceansiders had taken up residence at the Kingdom where it was safest for them to hide out, where they wouldn't be discovered unless the Saviours were the first to break the long established Kingdom treaty. The Hilltop were making blades and armoured vehicles, the Kingdom dispersing body armour, suppled and labourers, while Alexandria was in charge of munitions. Eugene and Rosita were churning out thousands of rounds of ammunition each day, their enormous team working around the clock to be ready. Overseeing the finer details of production and workforce catering Eugene was on top of the world, a true Lord of his domain.

At their most recent midnight meeting Arat updated them on the Kingdom citizen Wilson, that he was still imprisoned at Simon's new outpost, the FedEx centre. He was well enough all things considered, they just hadn't allowed him to go home after his two week stint tending to the Saviours. Ezekiel had been complaining to Gavin at every opportunity, a planned protest to support the notion that he didn't know why his citizen hadn't been returned as usual. But Negan had refused to budge, fearful that Wilson would tell his King about the pregnant woman he had abducted from another community. If they wanted to maintain the pretence that Alexandria and the Kingdom knew nothing of the other, Wilson was going to have to wait it out.

Arat was still inspecting the offering they had made, looking rather dissatisfied. "Why is there food?" she asked expectantly, gesturing to the crate of canned preserves. "We don't take your food."

For a moment he hesitated, still worried that this was some kind of a trap she set for him. She had told him to do exactly this, to give them food. "We didn't have much else for you."

"So you're trying to pad it out?" she questioned. "Fill the space?"

"Yes."

She seemed to think on this, still looking rather unhappy about it, though he supposed for her that expression wasn't so unusual. But before she could say or do anything else one of the other Saviours was coming forward, openly sneering at him.

"What did you name him?" he asked, raising his rifle and resting it across the front of his shoulder much the same as Negan did with Lucille. "The baby. He had to have been born by now."

Rick grit his teeth, having already suspected they knew its gender. He did not want to have this debate right now, he was too damn tired. "Yes."

"What's his name?"

"Why the concern?"

The Saviour seemed to be enjoying this, and his sneered expression only grew as he turned to the others, sharing a low chuckle. "Negan wants to know what you named him," he said lowly, holding Rick's gaze as he came closer and closer. "Wants to know what to write on the greeting card for his visit."

"There's no need for this," he said in frustration, resenting their attempt to intrude on his family. Negan had no place asking for his son's name, he had no place even thinking about him.

"Negan wants to know the little tyke's name," the Saviour said forcefully, shoving him. "He's real curious to know. So you're gonna tell me, or we-"

"Chuck," Arat said sharply, her tone of voice commanding his attention. "Take these crates back to their pantry."

Though he had heard her instruction, the man made no move to do as he was told, instead lingering and holding Rick's gaze a moment longer, refusing to look away. But very quickly he had no choice but to respond, Arat having repeated her instruction with a bite of impatience. Finally he backed off and turned back to his superior, not saying a word when she pointed him to the two crates of canned goods. Silent in defiance, he stacked the crates and then picked them up, carding them back to the Pantry without a hint of struggle. Arat however turned her attention back to Rick, looking at him unhappily.

"I was hoping we could extend this out to every two weeks, but this is an insult," she said loudly making her way towards him. She faced him with her arms folded across her chest, looking at him expectantly before whispering in a low murmur, "Argue back."

Steeling himself, Rick went for it. "I'm trying my best here," he said quietly, sounding suitably chastised as he cast his eyes around to the other Saviours. They were watching their every move, holding their breaths as they waited for him to say or do something stupid. "I've got three supply runs going, but everywhere nearby has been picked clean."

"That's not my problem," she berated him. "And it's not Negan's fucking problem either. Do you know whose problem it is?"

He quirked his eyebrow at her. "Mine?"

"You're damn right. Make it happen, I don't care how."

"Do you expect me to pull it outta my ass?" he asked loudly, a little too much genuine frustration showing through in his voice. "Because I can pull something outta there to give to Negan."

Arat's reaction was swift, his defiance and insubordination necessitating she assert herself as his superior. She lunged and grabbed him by the arm, and even if she wasn't working for their side he couldn't have fought back against her, not when he was defenceless against all those armed Saviours. With a rough twist she spun him around and shoved him up against the walls, wrenching his arm behind his back and using it to hold him there. It was difficult to tell if she meant to hurt him or not, but already his right shoulder blade was in agony from where Oceanside had shot him, and he felt himself straining and panting against the pain.

She was yelling at him, holding him against the wall and not caring that she was hurting him, but he knew the play. He could feel her pressed right up against him, could feel her hand shoved between them as she concealed what she was slipping into his back pocket.

"Fall over," she murmured a split second before pulling him away from the wall.

She gave him a swift shove before he allowed himself to fall to the grass at her feet, hiding a hiss of pain as he cradled and protected his right shoulder. Catching his breath he looked up at her standing over him, seeing the gun she held in her hand. All around them the Saviours were still watching with bated breath, their silhouettes interspersed with his own people like Michonne and Rosita.

"Come up with something good, or there'll be another grave to dig," Arat lectured, pointing her gun to Rosita. "She's up next, you hear me?"

He nodded, clearing his throat as he pushed himself up a little.

"Do you hear me?" she shouted at him.

"Yes," he stated calmly. "I hear you."

"Good," she muttered, making sure to kick some dirt at him before turning to the others and directing them to start loading up the supplies. "Now, what do you say, Prick?"

Conscious that although the Saviours were working, they were also listening, he said what he knew he had to say. "Thank you."

As he waited for them to clear out Rick stayed down, watching on as the Saviours cleared the stuff and then got back into their vehicles, Arat being the last one to depart. When the engines started and the two trucks departed the gates everyone breathed an audible sigh of relief, another tribute meeting having come and gone without anything too terrible happening.

"That could have been worse," Michonne commiserated, taking his hand and helping him up. "You okay?"

He nodded, figuring he would make use of an ice pack on his shoulder until the discomfort settled down again. "One more of those, and then it's time," he murmured, reaching into his back pocket for what Arat had stowed there.

It was a folded piece of paper, one that he had been anxiously awaiting for over a week now. He passed it to Michonne and Rosita to look over the list of locations, the places the Saviours had stationed look outs around the Sanctuary and outposts. Some of the places they already knew they'd find someone on guard, but a few other locations came as a surprise to them, only further highlighting the value Arat was bringing to them. Whether he liked it or not, he really would have to give Arat her freedom once this was all over, regardless of what she had done to them.

Despite her value and contributions to the allies, Arat's role in this war was not so black and white. Unknowingly she had become the source of great friction among the allies…well, a select few anyway. While Daryl was ready to hang, draw and quarter her, Lana and the Oceansiders were staunch in their constant avocation for her. It was a persistent debate right now, their fear being that Negan would never believe Arat wasn't in on this once the Oceansiders were revealed as co-conspirators. Telling Negan they were fighting too risked throwing Arat under the bus, but Rick was determined that Negan would be made aware of the allies' enormous strength. If he didn't know what he was up against he might try to fight them, and that would cost lives.

In one week it would all happen. They needed to get through one more tribute meeting next Thursday, and then it would begin. The allied groups would converge on the Sanctuary, interrupting their monthly meeting when all the outpost leaders would be in one place. Once the Walkers had them pinned in without means of communicating with the world outside, the allies would break into their groups and pin down the outposts.

The process would be simple. Straightforward.

So why couldn't he get a wink of sleep right now?

* * *

Monday March 31

It was the early hours of the morning when Rick arrived at Oceanside, the break of dawn hours away at least. When he stepped out of the car his breath was like a fog in front of his face, the cold air compelling him to lift the collar of his jacket to shield his neck. But he didn't despair at the cold weather, for the chilled night was preceding a warm day, he could feel it.

"We weren't expecting you for another day," Ethan commented in concern, having vacated his post in order to meet them. "Everything okay?"

Rick nodded, reassuring him. "It's all coming together. How's things here?"

"Clock work," he answered, looking around at the other people getting out of the cars, raising his hand to greet Harlan Carson, the Hilltop's doctor who had made the journey. "Your little boy's getting nice and chubby. Melting hearts left, right and centre. Even mine."

"Didn't know you had a heart," Carson joked, coming over and embracing his friend.

Around them others were getting out of cars too, Cyndie and Bea having returned home to spend time with their families, but there was one in particular he sought out. Looking like a lost kid in a supermarket Daryl was standing awkwardly by the hood of the car he had arrived in, casting his eyes around the never before seen camping ground that he had heard much of by now. Rick hadn't really wanted to bring him here, preferring that he stay close to the Kingdom where he was less likely to be discovered, but he'd made a damn good point. If this place was safe enough for Carrie and his children, then it was safe enough for Daryl too…there was no arguing with him after that.

Getting Daryl's attention he waited for him to come over, and then he grabbed their packs and set off, having one place in mind. He needed sleep, and though he was unlikely to come by that in a small cabin housing a newborn, he also needed to be with his family. That had to be the reason he could barely close his eyes right now, for he hadn't expected to feel so painfully homesick like it was his first time at summer camp. Even amongst for the stress and burden of preparing to bring his people to war, there was still time to miss his family.

Using his flashlight to guide his way and to alert others of their presence, for it was easy to feel as though they was sneaking about here, he and Daryl made their way to the cabin where his family would be sleeping, heart soaring with every step closer he came. He passed the cabin next door where Glenn and Maggie were staying, their family…at this thought Rick's soaring heart fell. Moments like that were becoming commonplace, but that didn't meant they had stopped hurting. How many times had he turned to say something to Glenn only to find that he wasn't there? How many times had he paused during conversation for a rude remark from Abraham that wasn't going to come?

Trying to put this out of his mind he went to the cabin his family occupied, passing the flashlight in to Daryl as he used one of the master keys to open the door. It was warm and cosy inside, the burning embers in the fireplace casting a warm glow around the living area that was filled to the brim with the hallmarks of family life. Judith's toys were scattered about, the room largely dominated by the baby swing, bouncer and play mat that took up much space, while the kitchen was a mess from last night's dinner and and empty bottles of breastmilk. All was silent, a blissful but unusual sound for a home occupied by a small baby.

Taking off his boots he first made his way into the second bedroom to check on Carl and Judith, though his heart faltered when he found their bunk beds empty. For a moment he was in a state of uncertainty, fearing that something terrible had happened to take his children away from him, but he knew that wasn't the case. The beds had been occupied at some stage, the sheets and blankets pushed back when they were vacated, and so he went into the main room.

Rick stumbled over a stray plastic block, cringing in pain as the sole of his foot bore the brunt of the corner, but his discontent passed in a split second. The main bedroom door was ajar, the room illuminated by the nightlight in the corner, and he could see all of them in there together. Carrie was sleeping on her side facing into the crib, the side lowered and her hand reaching in, while Judith snuggled up against her lower back. On her other side Carl was sprawled out, taking up more space than any of them. It was an amusing sight to behold, particularly when he came in closer and saw a stain on the front of his teeshirt that was likely spit up. He knew Carl would do his best to help out with his baby brother, and it seemed he had stepped up just as he had when Judith was born. For a moment he lingered there looking at Carl, glad that he was no longer wearing the bandage over his face, that he wasn't hiding the scars anymore.

Sneaking over to the crib he looked in, and though it made him ache to see how much he had missed he knew that it had been for the right reasons. Calvin had changed so much already, his cheeks becoming plump as his features became more defined, but still he recognised him…he would recognise his children anytime, no matter their age. Though he was wide awake he appeared content, happily laying there in the dim light knowing that his mother was nearby, and so Rick slowly backed away. It was tempting to lean down and give him a kiss, just a little one, but he didn't want to risk disturbing him.

In that moment he realised he had woken Carrie, that her eyes were fluttering open, and not wanting her to find someone leaning over her baby in the middle of the night he backed up a few paces. Her eyes fluttered open as she looked up at him sleepily, and though he could see that she recognised him she was very much still out of it, her eyes glazed over and unfocused. She mumbled something, reaching up and rubbing her face, but before she could really wake up he went to her.

"Go back to sleep," he implored, kissing her on the forehead. "I'll see you in the morning.

She mumbled something else, but she quickly relaxed back into her pillow and closed her eyes, perhaps too exhausted to put much thought into who she had seen. Wanting her to be warm he pulled the blankets higher up her shoulder and then backed away, looking forward to going to sleep himself. The last few days had been productive for them, but hadn't allowed for much in the way of rest, and his body was crying out for it.

"Take Judith's bunk," he murmured to Daryl, waving him away from the small living room couch.

Too tired to argue Daryl just muttered in agreement, he too kicking off his shoes and leaving them by the front door. Rick lingered just long enough to watch Daryl set his crossbow and weapons up onto the top bunk before all but collapsing onto the bottom, and then he too went about much the same process in the main bedroom. Taking his time he divested himself of all weapons, placing his gun and knives atop the closet where Judith wouldn't be able to get them, and then he divested himself of his belt and jeans. Going to the far side of the bed where it was pushed up against the wall he lifted the blankets and searched for Carl's foot.

With a few nudges he ushered Carl to stop stretching out, giving him enough space to squeeze in beside him. As he rolled over he began to rouse, his eye fluttering open and blearily looking up, but he didn't seem surprised to see him.

"Hey, Dad," he murmured, rubbing his face as he moved over again.

Returning the greeting Rick lay down beside him, thanking him when he moved his pillow over to share it. "How are you?"

"Tired," he answered, his throat croaky.

"Me too," Rick admitted. As he settled in and tried to relax he got a whiff of a familiar smell. "You smell like spit up."

At this Carl moaned, turning onto his front. "I don't have any clean shirts left," he whined morosely.

Their bed at home in Alexandria would have comfortably accommodated all five of them, whereas this made for a tight squeeze. It wouldn't be the first time his family had slept in close quarters, and as he settled into the warm bed next to Carl he thought about those nights at the prison when he would come into his cell complaining that his was too cold. For the first time since he had left his family twelve days ago he went to sleep without delay, relaxed and content for once.

It felt like no time had passed when he felt himself coming around, but his warm and relaxed body told him that he had been sleeping for sometime. Nevertheless he didn't open his eyes, and in his half asleep state he tried to just relax and go back to sleep, but something else was compelling him to come around. He could feel movement, the weight of someone getting into the bed next to him, the sound of soft voices.

Weary and worn out, Rick managed to open his eyes, rubbing them to clear up his blurry vision. In the bed beside him was the familiar shape of his wife, though it took a few moments for this to really register. She was watching him patiently, and when she saw the recognition in his eyes she smiled and reached out to him.

"This is a surprise," she said warmly, running her hand through his hair.

He closed his eyes, relishing in her touch. God, he had been homesick. "A welcome surprise?" he mumbled in response, tilting his head up into her hand.

"Of course."

Catching her hand he brought it to his lips and gave it a small kiss, that being the extent of the affection he could afford right now. Already he had turned his attention to Calvin who lay between them on his belly, propped up on a small cushion so he could more easily lift his head. He had turned towards Rick now, eyes fluttering as he did his best to focus on him, and Rick wondered if he remembered his voice, if he knew who he was.

He reached out and touched Calvin's hand, slipping his little finger into his palm and waiting until he clenched it around him. "How's everything going here?"

"Perfect."

Settling in for a long stay she lifted the blankets up to keep herself warm, and as if not even thinking about it she placed her hand on Calvin's back to gently pat him. For a few minutes they simply lay there looking at their son, admiring the way he persevered to lift his head up, marvelling over the soft little sounds he made. Rick couldn't get over how much he had grown, and he admired the chubby rolls of fat on his thighs as Carrie gave him a run down of the last twelve days.

"He's already heavier than his birth weight," she said proudly. "Over eight ounces now. He's up all night and sleeps during the day, but he's such a happy little guy I don't even mind."

"He's happy?"

She nodded, practically beaming as she gushed. "Don't get me wrong, he howls the roof down when something's not right, but for the most part he's content. And Judy loves him too, she just took a little warming up."

"Where is she?"

"Carl's just getting her dressed. She'll have her morning cuddle with Calvin, it's non negotiable," she added with a smile. "And then he'll take her to day care for a few hours."

"Day care, huh? How much damage is that doing to my wallet?" he asked playfully.

"We're getting very good rates. Besides, all of the Oceansiders love Carl, even Natania. He even convinced them to take the supplies out of the old pool and let the kids learn to skateboard."

Pessimistically he suspected it was Carl's gender they liked more than him as a person, just as had been the case when Henry and other boys from the Kingdom and Hilltop arrived here. Nevertheless he didn't comment, not wanting to draw attention to that. Instead he waited contentedly, hearing Judith's voice from the adjoining room as she and Carl debated something. Taking the peaceful moments where they came he turned his attention to Carrie, taking note that although there were shadows beneath her eyes she looked well in general. Her hair was in disarray, her pyjama's mismatched and ill fitting as her body recovered from nine months of pregnancy, but she looked wonderful.

At this thought he pushed himself up a little, leaning over Calvin so that he could properly kiss her. They lingered with their lips touching before deepening it a little, both of them enjoying the simple intimacy of a kiss. In moments like this it felt like _before_ , when they didn't have the spectre of Negan and the Saviours hanging over their heads, mornings when they lay in bed together feeling the baby in her belly, hands roaming amorously. That's where they ought to be right now, at home in their own bed enjoying the new changes to their family.

From the other room came the sound of Judith howling in displeasure, Carl hastily trying to calm her down as she started sobbing. Eager to see her again Rick sat up in anticipation, her cries softening a few moments before they appeared in the threshold of the bedroom. She immediately stopped the moment she set foot inside, having not actually shed a single tear, and she was beaming by now.

"Hi Judy Pie," he said warmly, reaching his arms out and waiting for her to come to him. "Come here."

Despite Carl ushering her over to him, Judith's attention was focused on one place only, and she barely spared Rick a glance as she climbed up onto the bed. "My turn, now?" she asked sweetly, looking down at her brother.

"Can't Daddy have a kiss first?" Carrie suggested.

"It's my turn," she shook her head insistently, looking at her brother.

Laughing apologetically, Carrie moved Calvin over to clear a space for his sister, and well practiced in this routine Judith carefully laid down beside him and settled in. She was beaming as she snuggled up close, cooing to him under her breath as she put her arm around him, while meanwhile Carrie kept careful watch over them both.

"Calvin loves her," she commented fondly, using her fingers to neaten Judy's curly hair. "He can't take his eyes off her."

Indeed he couldn't, Rick's heart warming when he noticed that Calvin's attention was focused solely on his sister's face. He gazed up at her, blinking slowly as if he were struggling to stay awake, but even what Carrie nudged and talked to him his attention stayed solely on Judith. They lay there together for the longest time, Rick too fighting the need to fall back asleep, but the moment was too nice to waste on rest. In the background he could hear Carl out in the kitchen and living room, bustling around as he tidied up some of the chaos that had been left in the wake of the previous night.

"Has Carl been helping you out?"

"He's been incredible," she assured him. "The nights are still hard, but he gets up and helps as much as he can. During the day he mostly keeps Judy occupied so I can sleep. Cal's going to pass out any minute now I think. Me too, for that matter," she added, sounding apologetic.

"Don't stay awake on my account."

"I feel bad," she apologies. "You came all this way to see us."

"I'm staying the night. There'll be plenty of time to see you."

Instead he leant over and gave Judith a kiss, not bothered by the way she ignored him in favour of her brother. She was still cooing at him sweetly, and taking the opportunity where possible he also pressed a kiss to Calvin's forehead, lingering a moment to relish that newborn smell.

"Judy, tell Daddy what you can do now."

Entirely entranced by her brother it took Judith a few moments to acknowledge that Carrie was talking to her, and even longer to actually respond. She looked up in confusion, querying the instruction until Carrie leant over and whispered into her ear. As she understood she gave a beaming smile, and without warning let go of Calvin and hurried to her feet.

"Look!" She fumbled around for a few moments, excitedly repeating herself until she managed to pull down her leggings with a great flourish.

Instantly understanding, Rick gave a dramatic gasp. "Where's your diaper?"

Grinning with great pride she came closer, proudly showing her underwear before bouncing up and down on the bed. She babbled her explanation to him, Rick only just managing to catch her before she tried getting off the bed with her leggings around her knees. Fixing her clothes he let her get down and go running out of the room, waiting until she proudly returned with the bright blue potty.

"You were right about her being ready," Carrie commented, sitting up when she saw Calvin sucking on his hands. "Once we settled in here Carl managed to get her to sit on the potty, and it just kind of happened."

"Many accidents?" As he asked this he passed over another pillow, noticing that she was bringing Calvin to her breast to feed him.

"Plenty, but I think they helped. She figured out pretty quickly she doesn't like wetting her new underwear, and she's only wet the bed once."

"That's pretty good. What are you doing with her at night?"

At this Carrie sighed, perhaps having hoped to avoid this subject. "She wakes almost every time Calvin does, and she won't sleep in the other room with Carl. She's not getting her usual ten hours, so she's gone back to having two naps during the day."

Rick paused, knowing he normally would have been displeased with this kind of change in Judith's sleeping routine. "Are you all surviving?" he asked, trying to keep his expectations realistic.

She nodded, settling in with Calvin as he hungrily nursed from her. "Yeah, we're surviving."

"That's all that matters. Why won't she sleep in the other room?"

"I don't know. Either she likes being with me, or she's getting a little jealous of Calvin. I'm not really sure."

"It might be nothing," he assured her. "Maybe she just doesn't like the other bed."

"Maybe. I'm trying to spend plenty of time with her, and I'm making sure she feels involved," she started anxiously. "Even w-"

"You're doing a great job. Don't worry about the details."

Carrie managed a small smile, but he could still see that she was anxious about it. "Thanks."

"I'd better get out there," he murmured, hearing Judith calling to him. "Should I bring you breakfast?"

"No, thanks, I just ate."

Leaving them to it he got out of bed, and he slipped on his jeans and checked the weapons atop the closet, paranoia compelling him to check they were still there. As he secured his duty belt he watched Carrie and Calvin laying in bed together, noticing that his eyes were indeed drifting shut, his hunger having died down already. Out in the living room he added another piece of wood to the fire, listening and nodding as Judith continued babbling at him, proudly showing him the rest of her underwear. Trying to keep her quiet he peered through the gap of the ajar door into the smaller room where Daryl was sleeping, noting that she had already been in there to disturb him. He was still sleeping, but his exposed forearm and cheek was covered in stickers, while carefully lined up on top of him were a dozen stuffed animals.

"You couldn't keep her out of there?" he asked Carl.

"She's sneaky," he admitted. "By the time I figured out why she was being so quiet it was too late."

"A quiet toddler is never a good sign," he reminded him, teasing. "How's that breakfast coming along?"

Tossing a piece of toast onto a plate he slid it across the kitchen counter, quickly following it up with a jar of marmalade. "There. You're welcome."

"I see a Michelin star in your future."

"A what?"

"Nevermind," he said, taking pause to embrace his son, greeting him properly. He held him a few moments longer, relishing it. "How's things here?"

"Good," Carl assured him, the two of them moving to stand in front of the fireplace together.

"I hear your brother is keeping you up."

Though he nodded Carl smiled, his face lighting up as the mention of _his brother_. "He cries a lot at night, but it's okay. He eats and sleeps and poops, pretty much just the same as Judy did…" he trailed off with another smile, laughing under his breath. "Except Judy never peed on my face when I changed her diaper."

They laughed together, Rick remembering all too well the challenges of changing a baby boy's diaper. "How many times has that happened?"

"Only once to me, but yesterday he got pee on the ceiling. And he's pooped on me too."

"I see you've been puked on," he chuckled, gesturing to the shirt that still smelled bad.

"Yeah, plenty of times," he shrugged. "You kind of get used to the smell."

Dwelling on all this for a moment Rick peered through the bedroom door, watching as Judith tentatively made her way back in before climbing up onto the bed. She had settled down now, knowing the rules for how to behave around her little brother, and she disappeared from his sight as she lay down next to Carrie.

"I'm grateful for you being here," he said quietly, turning back to Carl. "Being here to help out…it's important."

Despite these words of encouragement, Carl was as eager as ever to change things. "So, am I coming back with you today?"

At this he hesitated, suddenly less sure. It had been a tentative plan for Carl to come back with him that day, for him to serve a very specific purpose of buying them time should they have to enact Plan B…but he hadn't yet dared to tell Carrie.

"Well…we'll find out soon enough."

* * *

Though she felt bad for sleeping half the morning the very day Rick arrived, Carrie couldn't pass up the opportunity. Calvin had slept for three and a half blessed hours, his longest stint yet, though when his cries woke her it still felt like barely a minute had passed. But as usual she managed to find energy from somewhere, reaching into the crib and bringing him to her before she had even really woken up. His diaper needed changing and his stomach was empty, but capable of tending to at least one of those problems Rick quickly stepped in so she didn't have to get out of bed.

Rick hadn't seemed to mind that she slept most of the morning, having turned his attention to keeping Judith occupied before taking her out to their daycare at nine o'clock, her usual session. When he came home he too succumbed, laying down on the bed beside her to get some shut eye. Though he hadn't been caring for a newborn, she didn't doubt that good sleep was hard to come by when he was preparing to bring war to the Sanctuary. She had roused upon his return, eager to snuggle up to him, but she was too exhausted to do anything other than clumsily reach one hand out and pat his face. He got the hint though, kissing the back of her hand before moving over and cuddling her. He smelled of sweat and dirt, his beard scratchy against the back of her neck, but the warmth and comfort of his embrace made up for it.

When Calvin awoke the usual routine started again, Rick changing his diaper before Carrie brought him straight to her breast to ease his ravenous hunger. He fed for more than an hour this time, Carrie switching him back and forth while Rick winded him intermittently. It must have been his experience and confidence standing out, but Rick seemed a little more vigorous with winding him. He bounced him and patted his back as they walked about the room, and in no time at all he elicited a sizeable burp that would have taken Carrie and Carl much longer. When the wind was out Calvin's eyes seemed to roll back into his head, and he gave a heavy sigh of relief as he closed his eyes and started rooting again, still hungry.

When he finally went back to sleep Carrie managed to get herself out of bed, feeling surprisingly awake. She knew there would be a group going to the beach at one o'clock, and she needed to get out of this cabin, to feel the sun on her face. Besides, she needed to get Calvin out too, for they had hardly left home for the last few days. It had been tough going for them lately, really putting into perspective that surviving the newborn stage was not an exaggeration.

"Why aren't you locking the front door during the day?" Rick asked, helping her back a bag of baby supplies.

"Carl's constantly coming and going," she murmured, folding the long piece of fabric that she would use as a wrap for Calvin. "I'm not constantly getting up to let him in."

"I'll give him one of the master keys," he murmured unhappily, checking they had everything. "And you should use the chain lock."

"That would negate the point of giving Carl a key, don't you think?"

"You should at least use it at night. Daryl and I walked in straight in last night, and not one person woke up. We could have been anyone."

Carrie started to narrow her eyes, certain she had heard condescension in his tone…but perhaps that was her exhaustion talking. She was tired and irritable, understandably so, and had found herself snapping at Carl for no good reason. Thankfully just like Rick did, Carl understood when to just shut up and let it go.

"I will remember the chain at night," she said, keeping her tone even and sensible.

"Thank you."

Glad that moment had passed, Carrie looped the wrap around her waist and over her shoulders, taking her time to ensure she tied it correctly. "Can you get the stroller and swap the capsule for the bigger seat."

"What for?"

"Judith."

"It's not far, she can walk."

"Rick…"

When he heard the bite of impatience in her tone he quickly got the hint, heading out to the front porch to retrieve the stroller and do as she asked. She was glad that he had gotten the hint, for using the stroller was less about Judith's convenience, and more about her own reassurance. It had long been a fear of hers that she wouldn't be able to protect two small children on her own, a fear that had only compounded with a terrifying dream she'd had a few nights ago. In her dream she had been fleeing on foot, alone with Calvin in one arm and Judith's hand in hers, struggling to stay ahead of whatever it was pursuing them. With both children crying she had tired quickly, and had momentarily put Calvin down in order to help Judith…but when she turned around he was gone.

She had awoken from that nightmare in tears, so terrified she could have thrown up, and since then the stroller had been like a safety net for her. When they went further than the motor court she had Judith in the stroller and Calvin carried in her chest, making her feel more confident that she could protect them. It something terrible happened while they were out the would be okay, they would make it.

As Rick added some towels and a picnic blanket to the stroller's undercarriage she crept into the bedroom, glad that Calvin was still sleeping soundly. Gently she unwrapped him from the swaddle and picked him up, and though his eyes fluttered open she was not alarmed. He started to fuss, but with a few kisses to the top of his head he quickly settled. Well practiced by now she carefully slipped him into the folds of fabric that would cradle him against her chest, double checking the knots and readjusting him until she knew he would be comfortable. By the time she and Rick set off to collect Judith from daycare Calvin was sleeping again, warm and content against her chest.

When they departed with the other group of people heading to the beach, Carrie couldn't help but feel like this was a family outing just like any other. It didn't feel like they were in a world ruled by the dead, nor that they were about to go into war…it just felt normal. With Carl pushing his sister in the stroller Carrie and Rick walked hand in hand, and when they made it to the beach they settled onto the picnic blanket while Carl and Judith headed for the wet sand nearer the water. She looked positively adorable in her full bodied wetsuit, the best way to keep her warm given the weather was still cool, and it was an absolute joy to watch the two siblings playing together. Enid was there with them too, she and Carl helping Judith fill buckets with sand and upend them to make a castle.

All around them were the others, people having fun with their families while others kept watch. Well practiced in this the Oceansiders were standing guard in all directions, taking particular care with each wave that rolled in. When a Walker emerged from the water a few yards in no one seemed scared or surprised, those on guard simply waiting until it got closer before going forward to kill it. Today, it was business as usual.

"In the summer time they go swimming," Carrie said, making conversation with Rick who sat beside her. "It's easier to see if the water's clear, and there's an ocean pool a mile north."

"It's nice here," he agreed, sounding wistful as he watched the kids playing. "Lori and I used to take Carl to Brunswick in the summer. We had friends who lived there."

"It'd be nice to go back one day," she murmured, trying to imagine Carl as a young boy. "Take Carl back for a vacation."

Rick smiled, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "If we're taking a vacation down memory lane, we're going to your mansion in the Hamptons."

"So the Hamptons this year, and Georgia the next?"

"Sounds good to me."

Neither of them acknowledged that these vacations were never going to happen, that this conversation was only the kind of wistful thinking that allowed them a brief escape from reality. Nevertheless that was the purpose it served, and she liked seeing the lingering smile on Rick's face as he thought about taking their family on vacation one day.

Now that he had awoken Carrie carefully freed Calvin from the wrap, feeling guilty for hogging him. She didn't want Rick to feel like he couldn't hold his own child, and so she passed him over and then reached into the bag for a blanket to keep him warm. Setting him out on his lap Rick let him soak up the sun, the two of them watching as he closed his eyes and relished the warmth on his face. His mouth opened wide, and though it was only a yawn Carrie caught a fleeting glimpse of what felt like a smile, and she knew that Rick had noticed it too.

"He's so long," he commented, gently extending Calvin's legs.

"Check out his toes. They're just like yours."

"How so?" he questioned, studying his minuscule toes now.

"They're long and slim. They remind me of yours."

Rick laughed under his breath, looking at Calvin. "And here I hoped you'd have my rugged good looks."

"He does," she assured him, moving closer and reaching out. She touched her fingers to his lips, stroking them a moment. "I think he has your mouth."

"You think so?"

She nodded, certain of this. "He has your mouth, your dark hair. I just wish he had a little more of your temperament."

"Well, we can't have everything now, can we," he murmured, he too taking a closer look at Calvin's mouth. For a few happy moments they lingered on this note, Rick playing and talking with their son. When he started to sound discontented he turned him over onto his belly, coaxing him to lift his head and use his arms.

At the sound of footsteps in the sand behind them Carrie looked over her shoulder, bracing herself for a stray Walker, but she needn't have worried. It was merely Daryl coming down the path, but her brow furrowed as she looked at him. Something was different…something strange. He had been out for most of the morning, having grumbled only a little when he discovered he had become a canvas for Judith's stickers, and this was the first she had really seen of him. He seemed lighthearted…cheerful.

"Hey Daryl."

He jerked his head towards her and gave a short but friendly grunt. "'ey."

Still taken aback her confusion only grew when he sat down in the sand and pulled off his boots and socks. Unaware that he had her full attention he tossed the boots aside and then rolled up each leg of his jeans to above the knee, exposing the colour of a few lingering bruises from the Sanctuary. Without a word he got back to his feet and then made his way past them towards the beach. Judith waved at him excitedly, reaching up expectantly until he swooped her up from the sand and carried her down towards the edge of the water.

About to voice her confusion to Rick she turned to him, but he seemed not to have noticed Daryl's unusually good mood. Instead his attention was on Calvin who lay in his lap, stroking his dark hair as his eyes fluttered closed.

"He must really like you," she commented. "He hardly ever falls asleep if he's not swaddled or held."

"Just lucky I guess."

Further down on the sand Judith was shrieking in delight, she and Enid laughing as Carl climbed into a hole they had been digging.

Down at the water's edge Judith was shrieking in delight as Daryl held her over the water, letting her toes trail in the water with every wave that came in. Further up on the sand Carl and Enid were on their hands and knees digging deep, both of them completely covered in sand. They were laughing together, and for a moment it looked as though they were leaning in to kiss one another before they chickened out, perhaps a little embarrassed in front of everyone. Instead Carl seated himself in the deep hole they had been digging, while Enid heaved the sand onto him and covered all but his shoulders and toes. It was nice seeing him having fun, especially in light of the fact that he wasn't wearing his bandage anymore. Six months ago this would have been completely out of the question for Carl.

"He's really glad you're here," she commented. "He's been missing you, I think."

"That's always nice to hear," Rick murmured, but something in his tone of voice made her feel odd.

"What is it?"

It was a few moments before Rick answered, his attention divided between Carl and Judith playing, and Calvin in his lap. "I was thinking about taking him back for a while."

"Carl? Why?"

He glanced at her, already looking uncomfortable with the conversation. "To help defend Alexandria."

In that instant her good mood vanished. There was a long pause, and slowly it clicked that he wasn't asking her…he was telling her. For the longest time they'd had a particular understanding when it came to Carl and her relationship to him. While she was a mother to Judith in all respects, it wasn't the case with Carl, with the important decisions and day to day parenting solely handled by Rick. It was an understanding that worked for all three of them, a necessity given Carl's age and his relationship with Lori. Normally she accepted that, she hardly ever had reason to discipline Carl anyway, but now? This time, things were different.

"No."

Another brief pause came to pass now, and she could tell Rick was surprised by her answer. "I know he's helping you here, but I need him back home," he said apologetically. "I can talk to some of the others. Make sure you've got someone to help you out."

"This is not about me needing help," she said shortly. "He's not going."

Again Rick seemed surprised, and he looked at her strangely before continuing. "We need him."

"Bullshit," she said bluntly, ready to go toe to toe with him about this. "If this war can be won or lost on the presence of one person, we shouldn't be fighting it. You don't need Carl. Take someone else if you need more people."

"We need _Carl_ ," he said heavily, emphasising his name. "It's about Negan."

The very mention of his name made her skin crawl, for she had spent days actively not thinking about him, putting him right to the back of her mind. But now Rick had brought him up, and the conversation could not be avoided.

"We've been wracking our brains trying to think of every scenario possible," he explained, sounding like he needed to get a lot off his chest. "Trying to be prepared for everything that can go wrong."

"And?"

"And if for some reason we needed to talk Negan down, the best person to do that would be you."

Carrie blinked dumbly, her lips formed around words she couldn't get out. It took her a moment to collect her thoughts, to realise she hadn't misheard. "Me?"

He nodded, looking apologetic. "He liked you. More than he should have," he commented, sounding uncomfortable with that. "You said that you could get through to him on some things, that he let you argue."

"So you'd want me to talk him down if something went wrong?" she asked skeptically. "To negotiate with him?"

"No," he assured her, placing his hand in hers. "No one would put you in that position. But if it couldn't be you, then-"

"Carl," she interrupted, understanding now. "You think Carl would get through to him."

"I think he'd have a chance to at least buy us some time. Negan likes him too."

"He likes Judy, are you going to take her into the war?"

There was a pause at this comment, and she could see Rick's jaw flexing as he tried to think of what to say. "Please, don't be like that."

"What do you expect me to say?"

"I…" he murmured, looking lost for words. "I don't know."

There was another long pause, and she could see him looking at her from the corner of his eye, working himself up to justify a decision he had already made. "I'm not taking him into the fight itself," he argued, trying to make her understand. "I just want him close in case we need him."

"There's no point. Negan would use Carl against you in anyway he could. He knows you'd never sacrifice your own son."

"Carrie…"

"I'm not comfortable with this," she said plainly. "You do not have my blessing."

The silence that followed this statement was excruciating, for it had been a long while since they'd disagreed about something so important. The debate had gotten them no where, neither of them ready to budge from their position, but both had made themselves vehemently clear.

"I understand," Rick murmured, lowering his gaze to look at Calvin.

The happy atmosphere of their reunion was tainted now, though she knew that the tension would pass. She knew Rick, and was resigned to the fact that if he thought it was the best thing to do he was going to take Carl whether she gave her blessing or not. She just hoped that he wouldn't come to regret it…they would never recover if something happened to their son. But he wasn't going until the morning. She still had time to change his mind.

"How's everything been going otherwise?" she asked, trying to break the tension.

At the change of subject she could see Rick's shoulder's relax a little. "Arat's been running the tributes, just like she planned. Negan hasn't showed."

"At all?"

He shook his head, starting to look a little more at ease now. "He's still asking about you though. He wants to know what we've named Calvin."

"What have you told them?"

"Nothing."

Carrie was glad to hear this, resenting that they knew anything at all about their son. "So, this Thursday?" she asked. "I heard talk of postponing it until next month."

"We thought about it for a while," he acknowledged, pausing when Calvin moved around a little, but when he settled he continued. "We were worried we might not be ready."

"But you are?"

He nodded, assuring her. "We will be. Besides, the longer we wait the more time there is for something to go wrong."

"What's going to happen to the workers there? The kids?"

"There's a plan."

"What plan?" she pressed.

Though he looked annoyed that she insisted on knowing he explained for her benefit. "We'll confront Negan, tell him to surrender or we'll attack. Arat will pretend to panic, she'll go inside and get the kids out."

"And the wives? The workers like Gloria?"

"They're going to have to take care of themselves," he said heavily, averting his eyes for a moment until he managed to look back at her. "I'm sorry, I know they were kind to you, but this is just the way it is. People are going to die. Some of us…more of them."

"Innocent people too?"

"Glenn and Abraham were innocent."

"And no one else matters?"

"No," he said bluntly. "No one else matters but our people. Our family."

At this she chose not to say anything else, not liking the fact that she actually agreed with him. She cared about what happened to many of the people at the Sanctuary, innocent people like Gloria, but they were not her priority. If something happened to them in the fight because Negan wouldn't stand down, then that was on him, not them.

The weight of it all was starting to weigh on her again, and she had tried hard for days to separate herself from all this, to focus on the things that she did have control over. Trying to change the subject she turned her attention back to Daryl, who had now brought Judith back to Carl and Enid and was helping her fill a bucket with sand.

"Daryl's in a good mood," she commented, still watching in disbelief. She'd never picked him for one to play in the sand at the beach.

"Yeah, he's in a good mood."

"It's weird, right?"

At this Rick managed to crack a smile, and when he took a deep breath she briefly saw the weight of the world release him. "Yeah, it's a little weird."

"Things are going okay for him?"

"That's the thing," he mused. "It's not going so well. He and Lana just had a blow up last night. A big one. It's why he came here with us. Practically laid down in front of the gate so we couldn't leave without him."

"What was the fight about?" she asked curiously, unable to help herself.

Rick didn't answer at first, instead choosing to mull over his thoughts for a few moments. "Lana…she's been throwing a few spanners in the works."

She waited expectantly for him to continue, frustrated when he didn't. "What spanners?"

Again he mulled over his thoughts, his gaze focused on Calvin who slept soundly in his lap. "We have to show Negan what he's up against. We have to show him that we've got Alexandria, the Kingdom, Hilltop and Oceanside. If we don't, he's going to think it's just a dozen idiots with a death wish, and he'll fight us."

"We'll beat him if he does," she said confidently, believing this without question.

"Any unnecessary fighting will come at a cost," he reminded her. "We need the Sanctuary to stand down, not to fight back."

"So what's Lana's problem?"

"Telling Negan about Oceanside will pretty much blow up in Arat's face," he admitted. "Either he won't believe she wasn't in on it, or he'll use her as leverage. Either way, it's not so great for Arat."

Carrie just looked at him blankly. "So?" she questioned unkindly. "As long as she sabotages the armoury and gets the kids out, it doesn't matter. Let him kill her."

At this Rick gave a heavy sigh, looking at her as though the problem was obvious. "That's easy for you and I to say. Lana and Oceanside feel differently. She's their family," he reminded her when she tried to brush this off. "They want her to escape with the kids. I want her to stay and convince Negan to stand down."

"Then she stays and does her job," Carrie said bluntly, feeling anger and resentment resurfacing inside her. This had been something she tried to avoid lately, the lingering effects of her imprisonment at the Sanctuary. "It doesn't matter what happens to her."

"It does," he said heavily. "She is the reason Oceanside are fighting with us…if something happens to her, they could very well pack up and go home. They could kick our people here to the curb."

She scoffed at this. "I'd like to see them try."

"Either way, it's a pain in the neck I don't fucking need," he said bluntly, his cursing uncharacteristic for him.

Noting the frustration in his tone of voice she figured it was time to let the subject lapse. She didn't want his time here to be marred by this kind of debate…what if this was the last hours he spent with their family, and they spent it talking about Arat?

"Daryl and Lana will be fine," she said lightly, trying to change the mood. "They sort their shit out, just like you and I do."

"They'd better," he muttered darkly, but he too made an effort to change the mood. "She did throw a shoe at him last night, but it's nothing you haven't done to me."

"That's true," she said affectionately, placing her hand on his.

As if they hadn't just had a difficult conversation about Carl, the war and throwing Arat under the bus, they shared a brief kiss. That moment Carrie had needed very much so, and she got the feeling that Rick had needed it too. Though they pulled away he quickly leant back into kiss her again, properly this time. As they kissed she wanted to freeze the moment in time, to be right there forever. The touch of his lips against hers, the simple intimacy of their hands entwined…she wanted him to never go, to just pack up their family and flee the war all together.

"We're heading back in five minutes," Tonya announced, walking past them as she circled the perimeter yet again. "A few too many Floaters further up."

Disappointed, Carrie sighed as she pulled away from Rick. The nice weather could have been enjoyed for hours more, but the conversation and growing presence of Walkers left a lot to be desired. Beginning to prepare she called out to Carl who was still buried shoulder deep in sand, watching as he gave the news to his little sister. At first she seemed to ignore him, still piling sand into the plastic bucket and turning it over with Daryl's help, but reality hit home the moment Carl arose from the sand and brushed himself off. Judith berated him, angrily telling him to get back into the hole he dug, but when he ran off and dove into the waves she burst into a loud wail of discontent.

"Judith, come here," Rick called out, coaxing her over.

Making a swap Carrie took Calvin from his lap and then passed over Judith's towel, each of them taking the needs of one child. While Daryl and Enid trailed behind collecting the toys Judith cried as she staggered up the beach towards them, quickly growing red in the face as she lamented that Carl had ruined the sandcastle she was building on top of him.

"Come here," Rick soothed, engulfing her in the towel and bringing her to his lap. "Tell Daddy all about it."

Indeed she did, crying inconsolably as babbled her problems, and it seemed her comfort was hard won. Even as he bundled her into his arms and held her close she continued to cry, while in Carrie's arms Calvin had roused. Whether it was the sound or being moved that disturbed him she wasn't sure, but to her relief he seemed to be mostly content. He fussed and grumbled as she put him into the wrap, but once comfortable he snuggled against her chest he settled again, liking that he was close to her. Awake, his eyes were open and head turned towards Judith, perhaps wondering what she was making so much noise about.

When Carl emerged from the water he was no better off than before going in, sopping wet and still covered in sand. His too long hair was plastered around his face, and he walked bowlegged up the sand as he tried in vain to brush himself off, but great clumps of sand were stuck to him. Nevertheless he was still as cheerful as he had been all day, and it was nice seeing him so blatantly happy. For a few moments it felt just like any other day from before, like they really were just a family on a day out at the beach.

"Tokyo's that way," Daryl teased, gesturing back to the water.

"Ha ha," he said sarcastically, lunging for a towel as he violently shivered. "Fuck it's cold."

"Hey," Rick and Carrie said in unison, looking at him in disapproval as Enid hid a laugh.

"Watch your language."

"Sorry," he muttered unconcerned, picking at his boardshorts and trying to pull them away from his skin. "God, there's sand everywhere," he complained.

"We'll hose you off when we get back to the cabin," Rick assured him, but the smirk betrayed his amusement.

"No way, it's too cold!"

Carrie huffed in disapproval, thanking Daryl when he helped her up from the sand. "I don't care what you do, but you're not coming inside like that."

"We can strip you off like your sister," Rick commented, divesting Judith of her wetsuit before wrapping her in another dry towel so she'd be warm. "Do a nudie run like you used to do back home in Georgia when you'd play in the mud."

While Carl rolled his eyes and walked off in a huff, Daryl and Enid following and laughing at his expense, Rick and Carrie fell into step alongside one another. She wanted to hold his hand as they walked together, but with him pushing Judith in the stroller she had to settle for looping her arm around his elbow. In one collective group everyone was returning to the cabins, the extensive wires and spikes throughout the surrounding woods keeping them safe and without concern. Not one single Walker was to be seen, making it an all the more pleasant walk back home.

The war would begin in three days…time was running out fast.

* * *

A/N Next chapter, the war begins! There's going to be a hiccup of course, and a great face off with Negan and Lana that I just loved writing! So many dynamics at play, so much unfinished business! How do you think it's gonna go?


	69. Chapter 69

Thursday, April 3

Today, the war began.

They were ready for this, Rick was confident of that, but still he couldn't help but be afraid. No matter how prepared they were, they were going to lose people…but who? None of them were immune to flying bullets and Walker bites. Would it be Carol, or Michonne? Daryl? Himself? At this thought his stomach turned, and not out of a sense of self preservation. Even two years later the agony of losing Lori was still a painful wound. Is that what he was going to do to Carrie? Would he leave her widowed with a newborn? He couldn't bear the thought of subjecting her to that, of his children having to go on without him…but it might happen.

Earlier that week he had spent the night at Oceanside, being with his family as much as possible in the final days leading up to the battle. He was grateful that he was able go down there, that his own people had insisted he make the trip. It felt wrong at the time, that he shouldn't be skipping off at the last minute while they were preparing, but he had to trust that people could handle this. Nothing would fall apart without him. If he dropped dead today, God forbid, the attack on the Sanctuary would go ahead regardless. The war would be won.

Being there with his family was a nice reprieve, allowing him to clear his head and mentally prepare for what was coming, even in the midst of a needy toddler and a newborn. That night he had stayed awake with Calvin, bottle feeding him while Carrie lay in bed getting some much needed sleep. Just as she had warned him would be the case Calvin had spent most of the night awake, sleeping only in short bursts. He roused frequently, needing to be held and comforted, demanding he be fed only to fall asleep after only a few ounces…and then the process started again. Carrie had awoken only once during the night, bringing their son to her breast to comfort him during a particularly loud bout of cries, though the peace that followed was only short lived.

But it didn't matter to Rick that he barely got a wink of sleep. He had forgotten how wonderful it felt to have his newborn child in his arms, his beautiful eyes looking up at him as he walked in circles around the living room, trying to settle him to sleep. Every moment was relished, for lingering in the back of his mind was the fear that this would be the last time. It was still hitting home that he was a father of three now, though in many respects it felt like Calvin had always been part of their family, that he wasn't a new addition. But none of that mattered if he was going to be there for him…

As morning approached a change came over Calvin, a sense of peace. Finally appearing a little more settled he managed to drink his whole bottle before succumbing, falling asleep in Rick's arms for what must have been the tenth time that night, but this time he didn't rouse. Just to be sure Rick continued to hold him a little longer, the two of them curled up on the couch together, and then with great caution he settled him into the crib beside Carrie.

"You're the best," she mumbled as he lay down in the bed beside her. "Thank you."

Of course she was awake. She had probably spent most of the night laying there awake, unable to completely relax and let down her guard. He didn't say anything to her gratitude, simply doing his part to take care of their child…besides, he was too damn tired. Instead he kissed the back of her shoulder, taking her hand in his and holding it as he too tried to get some sleep. To their mutual relief Calvin slept for almost three hours, and even Judith who had spent the night in bed with them slept in that morning.

When he left Oceanside he took Carl back with him, conscious that it was against Carrie's wishes…hell, it was explicitly against her wishes. But it was a risk he felt they had to take, and by the time the idea was in Carl's head there was no talking him out of it. Rick tried to reassure himself that he was taking all necessary precautions, that he wasn't bringing his son directly into the fight. In fact, he was doing to do everything in his power to make sure Carl didn't have to get involved, but he had to be prepared for the necessity.

The weekly tribute had been taken from Alexandria that morning, but it was to be the last there ever would be. Now, Alexandria was empty but for Carl and a few others keeping watch of the place. If the Saviours got out they would come straight to Alexandria, Rick would make sure of it, and that would be when Carl was called into action.

Checking his watch, Rick took a deep breath to steady himself. The first car bomb on the highway would explode in precisely two minutes from now, signalling the start. From there every move was to be heavily regimented…there was room for error, but they weren't going to need it. Repeating this mantra again and again he looked down at himself, annoyed to find spots of blood on the toe of his boot. It was from that Saviour on watch, the one he had disposed of barely thirty minutes ago.

 _"Your…your boy's gonna die," he gasped, his threat weakened by the whimper that followed. "They're gonna take that baby from 'er…"_

Putting these words out of his head Rick looked around at the other people present, the Kingdom's best shooters who were going to be watching the Sanctuary while the rest of them were taking care of the outposts. They were ready and in position, well stocked with all the supplies they would need over the coming hours and days. Kept ready at hand were thousands of rounds of ammunition, all ready to feed into their rifles and sub-machine guns thanks to Eugene and his factory. Dictator he may be, but Eugene and his team had produced far more rounds than they could possibly fire in this war. But in the back of his mind Rick knew that in the wrong hands their greatest asset could become their greatest threat…they had to keep their ammunition cache out of the Saviour's hands at all costs.

The faint sound of a disturbance set them all on edge, sending a flurry of nerves through each of them there on watch. Glancing at his watch again Rick took comfort in the sound, confident that it was the car bomb, that all was going according to plan. They were now under radio silence, there was to be no communication among their team lest they risk the Saviours listening in, so he couldn't check in with Carol and Daryl out on the highway. He had to trust in them, he had to have faith.

"You think that was us?" Marvin asked, bracing himself as he cautiously moved into position by the window. "The car?"

"It was us," Rick assured him, cautious of letting his own nerves show.

As if to support this statement Arat's voice came over the radios next, sending a convoy of Saviours out to investigate the explosion. Keeping close to the walls Rick peered out the windows at the streets below, watching on as two cars and some motorcycles went racing away from the Sanctuary. The first line of the defence had vacated, soon to be taken out permanently. Looking through a different window now he watched as Arat came down and hauled the two gates closed again, slipping a heavy chain through each of them to keep them secure, but she did not lock it. It wouldn't take much at all for the RV to break through that, and from there it was a clear shot straight to the Sanctuary walls. As if she were in no hurry Arat slowly made her way back where she had come from, no doubt unconcerned that she was temporarily absent from the meeting Negan would be hosting with the outpost leaders. They were all in there right now, hosting the monthly meeting that Carrie had eavesdropped on while she was imprisoned there.

"Wait for her signal," he reminded the others as soon as Arat left his line of sight. He needed to say the words out loud. He waited a minute or so, but was quickly becoming impatient with not knowing. "Is she smoking yet?"

There was a pause, Tyler at the other end of the building having the best view. "She's lighting up right now…we ready gents?"

"Ready," the others confirmed, taking their position.

A few more moments elapsed in silence, and then finally Tyler gave the count down. In quick succession three shots were fired, and though they were utilising silencers the sound felt too loud.

"They're down," Marvin confirmed, his voice wavering as the relief showed. "All three of them."

"Good work," Rick praised, getting up from his spot. "Arat?"

"She's already back inside. Didn't even finish the smoke."

This too was good. Clasping Marvin on the shoulder he wasted not a second longer, hastening to make his next move. He slung his satchel over his shoulder and departed without another word. Three floors down the vicinity was clear, the convoy of Saviours who had so recently departed having not even attracted any Walkers. Taking a good look around he turned away from the Sanctuary and raised one hand in the air, giving the signal that it was all clear.

The allies emerged, their convoy of armoured cars creeping down the streets and splitting off in two directions. Their approach was slow and quiet, the driver's letting momentum propel them down the road rather than depending on the engine to keep them going. It was both an effort to conserve gasoline for what would be a long day, and to conceal their arrival for as long as possible. When the armoured RV approached him Rick looked at it forlornly, feeling nostalgic now that it was going to meet its end. Many memories were created in that back bedroom, he and Carrie frequently utilising it for privacy in the early days of their relationship, though they hadn't been the only ones. Abraham had affectionally dubbed it Pussy Palace, a name that had stuck, and Rick hoped he would understand why it had to meet its demise.

Letting the RV pass him he turned to the vehicle behind, letting it slow before reaching for the passenger door, but he faltered when he saw it was occupied. His breath stopped, caught between a sigh of exasperation and harsh words of anger. Sitting in the front seat with a rather sheepish look on her face was Lana, someone who was not supposed to be there that day.

"Shot gun," she said apologetically, holding his gaze a moment before looking away.

Gritting his teeth Rick moved to the back seat instead, wrestling with the door that was heavier than usual thanks to the metal sheeting it carried. Jumping into the back he quietly closed the door and let Dianne resume driving, quickly catching up to the convoy ahead of them.

"You going to shoot straight through your morning sickness?" he asked tersely, showing his disapproval.

"It comes in the afternoon."

"Convenient for you." He looked at Cyndie who sat to his left, suspecting she had been a part of this. "She's with you today, got it?"

"Yeah. Got it."

Having said all he could he chose to then keep his mouth shut. Lana's choice to be here was none of his business…the fact that she was pregnant was an argument for she and Daryl to have out, not him. He didn't need to ask to know that she hadn't told him she was coming that day, that she had gone back on the agreement she had only reluctantly made. While he was out there on his motorbike drawing the herd to the Sanctuary Lana was going to be right there in the thick of it, and in that moment Rick knew he would have to pay particular attention to her. There wouldn't be much he could do to protect her, but he had to at least try.

Too quickly they arrived at the Sanctuary, meeting the other convoy of cars that had come from the other direction. Their arrival felt less jarring than the times before, for he knew the place better now. Hell, he knew it inside and out though he had never set foot beyond the front exterior. The maps drawn by Carrie, Daryl, Carl and Lana were seared into his mind's eye. If he had to go in there for any reason he would know exactly where he was going, and he knew exactly where he might find Negan.

Their arrival was met by silence, the Saviours on watch having been taken out already, and there was no one else to raise the alarm. With only the fence Walkers to greet them they seamlessly moved into position, a few cars backing up to close gaps while the RV turned to face straight into the fence. Keeping low and quiet the allies were getting out and moving into position, four communities each identified by their armbands that signalled which group they were from.

While everyone moved into position Rick took a moment to steady himself by checking his bullet proof vest. It was burdensome and heavy, but he knew too well that it could save his life. Others were wearing vests too, body armour that would protect them from more than bullets, but from the herd of Walkers coming. Though she had been sneaky with her involvement today Lana had at least come prepared, wearing as much body armour as she could physically strap on. She would be well protected, the only skin available for Walkers to bite being on her face…she would be okay.

Seeing that everyone was ready he stepped back a few paces, ensuring they all could see him, and then he raised his Colt into the air. They followed suit, raising their guns to the sky and bringing their fingers to the trigger, but well rehearsed in every aspect of today they waited for his signal. When he swung his arm down they fired three rounds each, the sound of the perfectly synchronised shots bringing a much needed sense of reassurance. They knew what they were doing, they had every step down to a fine art…this was going to work.

The silence that followed was excruciating, and despite his confidence Rick's stomach was in knots. As they waited for those inside to respond he looked around at the people there, the people fighting for everyone's freedom. Ezekiel, Jerry, Dianne and people from the Kingdom, Jesus and so many from the Hilltop he could barely keep up with their names. It for his people from Alexandria he felt the greatest amount of fear, but to Cyndie's group that he felt the greatest responsibility. He was the one who brought them here, who begged them to help win this war, and while they were here risking their lives their people back at Oceanside were taking care of their refugees. Any death that occurred Rick would carry with him forever, but particularly so for the Oceansiders.

"Come on you arsehole," Lana murmured under her breath, staring at the door from which they knew Negan would come out. "Come out here."

When the door finally opened it was almost underwhelming, the slight creak sounding nonchalant and insignificant. But moments later there was Negan, already smirking as he stepped out onto the upper platform, the very place he had paraded Carrie in front of him that one night.

"Well fuck, I'm sorry," he said sarcastically, holding Lucille against the front of his shoulder. "I was in a meeting."

Through the small gap between metal sheetings Rick stared at Negan, studying him. Like always he carried that air of arrogant nonchalance, appearing completely unperturbed by their arrival or the gunfire. Behind him the others were emerging too, though they seemed a little more cautious. Simon with his head held high and his thumbs through his belt loop, looking as casual as Negan though he did it a little less smoothly. Next came Dwight, Gavin, Regina and Paula, each of them looking rather annoyed by the interruption, and then finally Arat. Rick looked at her for a few moments too, gauging her behaviour. By now she ought to have sabotaged their armoury, and today she was tasked with the responsibility of saving a lot of lives. But her most difficult task would come in the immediate aftermath of this…convincing Negan that she had nothing to do with it, that she was on his side…and then, she would have to convince him to surrender.

"I feel like we've had this conversation before, Prick…" Negan began, sounding disappointed. "I told you to fuck off, not come for breakfast."

 _That's right…keep talkin'._

"See, I'm not exactly seeing a reason for us to try throwing lead at each other," Negan lectured, sounding disappointed in them. "I care about my people. I don't want to march them into the line of fire because I wanna play my dick is bigger than yours. I'm certainly not gonna let my people fucking die over that fucking shit." Staring straight at Rick he lowered Lucille from his shoulder, pointing her at him and holding his gaze. "Like you're about to. So Rick…what the fuck can I do for you?"

Pleased with the way this was going he stepped closer to the metal panels that would protect him, looking through the gap to make eye contact with each and every person up there. "Dwight," he started, raising his voice to ensure that nothing was misunderstood. "You're name is Simon. You're Gavin. Regina. Paula. Arat."

A small pause came to pass, and he could see the way they uncomfortably shifted their body weight. They were surprised he knew them by name so easily, and they didn't like that he was calling on them individually.

"You six, and the Saviours inside. All of you have a chance to survive what happens next," he offered. "You all can live, if you _surrender_. I can't guarantee it any time but now. Right now."

Negan laughed, not at all worried about his lieutenant's loyalty. "So they surrender, and your little piss patrol doesn't kill them. That sounds like a good fuckin' deal," he said enthusiastically, but he sobered just as quickly. "What about me, Rick?"

"I told you. You know what's going to happen."

"I do. I do know what's going to happen," he mused, beginning to pace a little. "You don't. You have no idea the fucking shit storm that's about to go down. Let me ask you, Rick…you think you have the numbers for this fight?"

Already suspecting what was about to come next, Rick remained silence in the face of this question. He simply watched as Negan's smirk grew, murmuring something to Simon who promptly went inside. All around him the allies were collectively holding their breath, they too suspecting what was about to happen. They were prepared for this…the writing had been on the wall for a long time. Not to anyone's surprise Simon returned with Gregory in tow, the Hilltop's spineless leader cautiously stepping out and looking around. Pleased with what he thought was a wild card, Negan proudly ushered him to the front of the platform, putting his arm around his shoulder.

"What do you have to say to Rick and the piss patrol, Gregory?"

Though he dithered a moment, Gregory squared his shoulders as he prepared to speak, practically puffing out his chest as he put his hands on his hips and stood tall. "The Hilltop stands, with Negan and the Saviours. Go home now…or you won't have a home to go back to."

This proclamation was met with silence, and not doubting their alliance for a minute Rick made a point of looking around at the allies, seeing their faces set in determination.

"You heard the man," Negan added, releasing Gregory's shoulder. "Go back to separatin' wheat and shit. Or whatever the hell it is you people do."

Rick shrugged, turning back to Negan. "It doesn't look like anyone's going."

More silence came to pass, but he wasn't concerned. It was subtle, but even from a distance he could see that Negan was impatient. He turned back to Gregory, murmuring something else to him. Gregory gave a short nod of cooperation, bracing himself again as he drew a breath and repeated his assertion.

"The Hilltop stands, wi-"

"The Hilltop stands with Rick!" shouted Jesus.

These words were followed by more shouts from the Hilltop residents, their declaration of allegiance repeated by every single one present, and now Negan grew frustrated. Rick watched on in satisfaction they chipped away at what had been a united front between the Saviours and Gregory. That started to happen much earlier than he anticipated…were things already tense behind the scenes? Simon was coming forward now, growling something as he gave Gregory a rough shove, but Rick spoke up so as to properly clarify all details.

"Gregory, I'm sorry for the trouble," he called out. "We really do owe you a lot, what with your people saving Lana's life and all. It was a big deal to us, you letting her stay at the Hilltop, hiding her from the Saviours. We _are_ grateful."

The moment was everything he could have hoped for, and his lips curled into a smile when Negan's face fell. For a moment he simply looked at Rick with a strange expression, but when Lana stepped out into a gap between the cars his gaze turned to her. Lana had come here to confront him, to show Negan that he didn't rule her life anymore, that he had no control over her, and that message was clearly communicated. His expression darkened as he placed one hand on the yellow railing, the other maintaining a tight grip on Lucille by his side.

Speaking under his breath he seemed to relay instructions to his people, and while Simon gave Gregory one final shove to push him off the platform Arat turned on her heel and went inside. _Good_ , Rick thought to himself. He suspected that Negan had told her to prepare everyone inside, but it didn't matter what he wanted, Arat knew what her next move had to be. It was up to her to get the Sanctuary's children out of that place and into the safety of the truck Tara, Evelyn and Beatrice would have waiting one street away. Rick had faith in her, having seen for himself that she knew what was at stake. She wanted to go home to her family, and no matter the deal between Rick and Cyndie, if Arat didn't keep up her end of the plan to save those children, she wasn't going to make it out alive.

"This is a shame, Rick," Negan spat, his eyes narrowed in malice as he turned away from Lana. "This is a damn fucking shame, because I didn't wanna play this game with you. I really fucking didn't…but you're forcing my hand here."

"Because I lied to you about Lana?" he asked. "I should tell you I lied about Daryl too. He's fine. In fact…" he trailed off, looking over his shoulder at a second plume of black smoke that was emerging into the sky. "That was him."

Negan raised an eyebrow, but he didn't look surprised. "Sounds like shit is going down."

"It is," he agreed, glad to see that not only was Negan perturbed, so were his lieutenants. "I've got the numbers."

Now he scoffed under his breath, but Rick had gotten to him. Though he maintained an excellent poker face he was looking carefully at everyone he could catch a glimpse of, and when another person stepped into his line of sight his mouth twisted into a grimace of anger.

"Is that you, your Highness?"

"Tis I!" Ezekiel proudly declared. "Tis the Kingdom."

"Hear hear!" Jerry shouted, lifting his battle axe above the metal sheeting. "The Kingdom stands with Rick."

"And who else you got down there, huh?" Negan demanded, letting go of the railing and beginning to pace back and forth. "Who else are you going to make me kill, Rick?"

Having waited patiently for their moment Cyndie and Kathy stepped forward too, moving into the gaps where Negan could see them. "Remember us?" Cyndie asked bluntly, turning to Simon next. "Because we sure as shit remember you."

The flurry of discomfort among the lieutenants was clear to see, and Simon stepped forward with a darkening look in his eyes. Negan stopped in his tracks, white knuckling Lucille as he stared down at Cyndie and Kathy, and Rick could almost see him weighing up his options…give them Arat to make them stand down, or hold Arat hostage to achieve the same outcome. He murmured something to Dwight who promptly turned on his heel, but Rick couldn't allow them the opportunity to interfere with what she was doing.

"Don't take another step," Rick ordered, his tone of voice ensuring that Dwight obeyed. "Before you do anything, I got something to show you all."

When he produced a small package and showed it to them Negan looked at him suspiciouslt. "That a grenade, Rick? You expect me to catch my own death?"

"Not yet," he said lowly. "It's friendly."

Waiting another moment to ensure that Negan wasn't going to take a swing at the package with Lucille, he threw it up to him. Leaning over the railing he caught it with ease, apparently trusting the man who was literally bringing a fight to his front door. Still looking at him with skepticism he unwrapped the string that bound the polaroid photographs to the small rock, and then he started looking through them. His face was expressionless as he studied each photograph of his outposts, and he seemed unperturbed. In the background they heard another explosion, this one closer than the last.

"What am I supposed to do with this? You want me to fucking cower in fear? I'm not stupid," he berated him. "I know you've got intel on us," he concluded, gesturing at Lana.

"You ready for a war against us? With low ammunition, no outpost left standing…we're not accepting any surrenders, so it's going to be a slaughter. So, how about it?"

Negan was tossing the photos aside as he looked through them, but when he reached the last one he froze, staring down at it without a word. The photograph was of Carrie and Calvin, a topic that he suspected was still to be a sore spot for him, and judging by his reaction it was. It was one of the last he had taken, Carrie sitting in bed with Calvin curled up in her lap, happily cooing and gurgling at her. Negan stared down at it, moving his lower jaw as if trying to resist saying something he regretted. As he waited for his reaction Rick held his breath, knowing this was the important part, that he had to set them up for Plan B.

"I brought them home. To Alexandria," he said, lying through his teeth. "It's safe for them now, because you people are never setting foot there again."

The silence stretched on, but finally Negan clenched his hand around the polaroid, screwing it up in his fist. "What's his name?"

This question went ignored, Rick determined that he would never know more than he did. But his silence only stoked Negan's anger, which in itself wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

"Damn it to fuck, Rick!" Negan shouted at him, seething so much he could barely get the words out. "How are my people supposed to trust a word outta your cocksucking mouth? You can trust what I say, you know I'm a man of my word, but you?" He lingered on this question a moment, looking around at his lieutenants. "You expect these fine men and woman to surrender to you? How are they supposed to trust you?"

"It's a risk they'll have to take," he answered, he too looking at the lieutenants. "You've got twenty seconds left to decide. What's it going to be?"

While those up on the platform showed no signs of standing down, Rick and the allies raised their weapons in warning, getting ready. He would have preferred to keep waiting, to give Arat as much time as possible to get those kids out, but it wasn't really up to him. The third explosion had gone off moments ago, and the herd would be closing in on the Sanctuary.

"This is happening, now," he warned, giving them one last chance. But silence hung in the air, everyone waiting on tenterhooks for a surrender that was never going to come. "Shit…are you going to make me count?"

At this Negan's mouth curled into a cruel smirk, no doubt recalling what Rick was referring to. Staring him down he resumed his former position, one hand clutching Lucille by his side, the other gripping the yellow railing. He was standing his ground, staring Rick down and daring him to do it, daring him to start this fight. Negan didn't think he stood a chance, but he had no idea what was reaching the Sanctuary any minute now.

"Last chance," Lana called out, goading him. "Don't let 'em die for you."

"Ten!" he shouted, bringing his rifle into hand and getting it ready. "Nine…eight…"

 _Fuck this prick…fuck them all._

Rick was the first to fire, unable to stand the smirk on Negan's face, and then chaos ensued. While the others joined fire Negan dove for cover, Rick's gun following him as he went tumbling down the stairs while his ever loyal lieutenants fled inside, abandoning him. He could barely see over the muzzle flash, the gaps between the metal barricades better suited to random gunfire that was the point of today's attack, but he didn't cease. While others were firing on the facade and windows he laid fire at ground level, burning through his magazines as quickly as he could reload them.

Minutes passed too quickly, the Sanctuary ravaged with bullets with barely a window left unbroken, while the Saviours struggled to return fire. There was little need to conserve ammunition, they had more than they needed, and soon the ground was so littered with shell casings they could barely walk without stepping on them. Rick's ears were ringing from the sound, he'd be prematurely deaf from this life, and his forearms burned from the ejected shells of whoever was standing next to him, but he couldn't stop. Negan was somewhere in there, and he couldn't stop until he was dead, until he saw the proof with his own eyes.

There was a cry from above as a Saviour fell from a window, struck down as he tried to fight back, and Rick stopped to watch him fall as if entranced. Behind him came another explosion, the final one that would bring the herd right here, and he knew that by now the children would have to be long gone. If they weren't already they would be trapped here along with the rest of them, and no matter how much he had tried to prevent that from happening, it would be on him. But he could barely spare them a second thought, for just as the RV ploughed through the gate he caught a glimpse of Negan.

Hastening to follow him he moved into a new position, ignoring the others who were already fleeing in their cars, sticking to the plan even as he abandoned it. When Negan dove for cover he fired on him, stumbling over the shell casings and broken glass that littered the ground. He wasn't getting away, he was pinned now…he wasn't going anywhere without taking a bullet.

"Rick!" Gabriel was calling. "Rick, now! Blow it now!"

With a growl of frustration he lowered his gun, knowing what he had to do, the final part of their attack. Risking it, he tore his eyes away from Negan and fumbled in his pocket, finding the key fob connected to the dynamite in the RV. It was in position, the brick on the gas pedal making the wheels spin as it hit the fortified exterior of the Sanctuary. Gabriel yelled at him again, giving him the all clear to blow it, and so he pressed the button.

Though he was prepared for it the shockwave of the explosion made him stumble, the heat and sound always far worse than he expected, but it passed quickly. Discarding the key fob he raised his gun and turned back to Negan, catching him as he tried to make a run for it. As he laid fire again Negan retreated back to his hiding place, and he grit his teeth and watched as his rounds hit the scrap metal behind which he sought cover, never quite hitting their target. In the background he could hear Gabriel yelling at him, pleading with him to make a run for it, and when he felt his hand on his shoulder he brushed him off.

"Rick, let's go!" Gabriel bellowed, yanking him hard enough to make him listen. "We're the last ones, let's go!"

"I can't," he snapped, desperate to finish the job.

If he walked away today with nothing achieved other than Negan's death that would be enough for him. As he spoke these words he emptied another magazine, expelling it and locking in another in the same breath, but he barely started firing again when he saw that he really had no choice.

"They're here," Gabriel yelled at him, yanking him again so that he whirled around.

The Walkers were here, those leading the herd having appeared around the far corner of the Sanctuary. The stench of decay that accompanied them was evident, as was the familiar rumble of their collective snarls and snapping jaws. As if waking from a trance he looked around, seeing the Sanctuary in ruins, smoke billowing up from the smouldering RV as a second person fell from the upper floors, taking a bullet from their snipers. He looked back to Negan, torn between running over there to make sure he was dead and the need to keep firing on him. But he was still now, his shadow on the ground as motionless as the shoulder he could see peeking out from behind the barricade. Perhaps he was dead, possibly wounded and bleeding out, an ideal meal for the Walkers that were closing in…it might have to be enough.

"Is that everyone?" he asked, backing away and falling into step with Gabriel. As he ran he cast his eyes around, looking for any more of his people.

"I think so," he panted, leading him to the last car that had been left for them.

Letting Gabriel go on ahead Rick slowed, panting for breath as he surveyed the damage, looking around for anyone that might have been left behind. The gunfire continued in small bursts, their snipers in the other buildings laying fire onto the Saviours in the upper floors, but other than them and the approaching herd all was silent. Still he lingered, looking back and trying to see where he had left Negan, looking for any sign of movement or indication that he was still alive.

"Let's go!" Gabriel pleaded. "Rick, please!"

Calling quits on the first attack he hastened to join Gabriel, collapsing into the passenger seat of the truck as the engine roared to life. Rolling the windows up he put his head back and closed his eyes a moment, taking time to collect himself, to take stock of any injuries. But other than the warmth on his forearms from the hot shell casings he was completely unharmed, and he hoped the same could be said for the rest of his people. All in all, that had gone just about as well as it could have.

"Go around to Selby street," he instructed, opening his eyes and looking around again. "I want to make sure they're surrounded.

Not protesting Gabriel did as he was asked, and he sat forward in the seat as he scoped the area. As they circled the Sanctuary they drone tentatively, looking down side streets at the herd that was so eagerly following the sounds and smoke from the various explosions. Mentally ticking them off he kept track of which streets were populated with Walkers and which were not, picturing a map of the area in his mind's eye. It wasn't until five minutes later that he was able to relax, their snipers in various locations around the Sanctuary checking in over the radios, confirming the job was done. The Sanctuary was surrounded, while Tara, Evelyn and Beatrice had escaped with a truck load of children and their parents.

All in all, it had been perfect.

* * *

It had to be a bad plan if there were few people Lana could share it with ahead of time.

It was this notion that lingered in the back of her mind the entire morning, a conscious acknowledgement that should anyone know what she was planning they would do everything in their power to stop her. If this went wrong she would put the entire plan at risk, all of their hard work down the drain…so she had to make sure it didn't go wrong.

Rick's plan for Arat was going to get her killed, and she couldn't help but suspect he hoped that might be the result. He wanted her to stay in the Sanctuary, to convince Negan and the lieutenants to stand down should they refuse to do so, but it was never going to go that way. Negan would mistrust Arat without question, no matter how convincing she tried to be. The moment Rick flaunted the Oceansiders in front of Negan, Arat was screwed, any trust she and Negan had developed would be gone. He wouldn't hesitate to kill her.

This disagreement had been a major source of contention between Rick and Oceanside, but it had created an immediate divide among the allies. Alexandrian's and Daryl were the most vocal supporters for Arat to stay and finish her job in the Sanctuary, not that Lana could blame them for not caring about her safety, but it was a sentiment echoed by the Kingdom and Hilltop too. So when she saw that they had no support to protect Arat, Lana knew that it would have to be someone else…another plan would have to be put in place, and only she and Arat's family could know about it.

It wasn't ideal…the last place she wanted to find herself again was inside the Sanctuary, the place she had been forced to marry someone just to save her own ass. But saving Arat meant replacing her, ensuring that there was someone inside the Sanctuary who could influence the way things went. Lana knew how that place worked, how the _people_ worked…she knew just who to manipulate, and how. In the end, it was a no brainer that she was he one who took this risk, and confident that her pregnancy would be what protected her from Negan's wrath she volunteered without hesitation.

Nevertheless, she couldn't deny that she had more than one motivation here, that her taking this extreme risk was about more than helping to bring down the Sanctuary from the inside. This was about the people they had lost, about the people who lived but who were shells of their former self…Daryl. He was putting on a brave face, too proud to show that he was hurting, but he was a fucking wreck. Admittedly Lana didn't know him as well as others in their group did, but she could see the changes in him, she could see the damage done. He was barely eating, couldn't sleep unless it was with sleeping pills chased by a stiff drink. Even the most innocent of touches were intolerable to him, unless it was from Carrie.

When Carrie took the baby to Oceanside it was like a curtain drew in front of Daryl's face, locking him away from everyone left. No doubt he was trying to be strong for his friend, but was it really just a performance for the sake of the new mom? The longer Lana thought of it the most she suspected that Carrie was just about the only one he'd been able to connect with - they'd shared the horrors of the Sanctuary together, though their experiences had been polar opposites. She recalled the day Carrie had said goodbye before leaving, how they had hugged for such a long time before he released her. Lana honestly couldn't recall that Daryl had ever hugged her like that, save for the moment they'd been reunited, and she couldn't help but be a little envious.

Having craved intimacy and affection from a partner for so long it was difficult to accept that she wasn't going to get that from Daryl, even before all the shit with Negan. He just wasn't an affectionate person, yet he and Carrie seemed to have an ease to their relationship that Lana just couldn't attain. It made her feel like she was on the outside looking in, that for all his commitment to the baby and supporting her his heart wasn't really in it. She felt like a burden to him, a responsibility he had to take care of rather than someone he cared for. She wasn't holding her breath for love.

Despite the uncertainties she felt, nothing was going to stop Lana trying to avenge what had happened to them, what had happened to their entire group. Maggie left widowed, Rosita and Sasha both grieving for Abraham, more people dying all the time. Negan was the cause of all their misery, the head of the snake so to speak…and Lana was determined to make sure the entire thing came down.

She had made the arrangements with Cyndie and Bea days ago, had simply swiped Fat Joey's keys from Daryl's coat pocket…the hard part was getting inside. Negan had survived the initial chaos of the attack, diving for cover under a hail of bullets and shattering glass, and now he posed Lana's first task. Moving closer she tried to get a clear shot of him, and eventually he was struck on the leg by a round, whether it was hers or Rick's it didn't matter. He was down for the count now, but still she was determined to kill him once and for all. When she saw him cowering pathetically she slipped away from the rest of the group, knowing the Sanctuary well. She knew how to get to him, where to hide from sight until it was safe to make her next move.

For three long minutes Negan was covered behind the shell of an old car, panting and clutching Lucille as he shielded his face from falling glass, while Lana waited for her moment. When the RV exploded she continued biding her time, taking a calculated risk as the Walker herd grew closer and closer. She could hear them already, could smell their wretched stench as they arrived at the Sanctuary, but still she waited. It wasn't until Rick and Gabriel left that she emerged from her hiding place and made a run for it.

There was thick smoke everywhere, the heat of the smouldering RV ushering her away, but she persevered. Her gun was raised, finger poised on the trigger and ready to fire. She would take care of Negan and then get inside, allowing herself to be captured and held prisoner, and then the next part of her plan would begin. But when she burst around the corner and fired upon the spot where Negan ought to be cowering she was met with a startling surprise…he was gone. Left in his place was nothing more than a smear of blood on the concrete, and in a panic she started looking around, gun raised.

"Negan!" she called out, challenging him to face her. "Come on, Negan!"

The ground was littered with debris, and she fell more than once, but her body armour and gloves provided adequate protection. Nevertheless the Walkers were closing in, the first arrivals already within yards of the RV. Regardless of where Negan was it was time for her to call it quits, to seek safety inside the Sanctuary. She ran for the nearest entrance, sprinting up the concrete steps for the entrance into the so called board room where Negan held the monthly meetings, but she cried out in frustration when she found it was locked. She had Fat Joey's keys, safely tucked away where even a strip search wouldn't find them, but they would take time to retrieve and unwrap, time she didn't have.

Quickly abandoning that entrance and moving on she raced back down the concrete steps and ran around the other side of the Sanctuary, sprinting past Negan's former hiding place. But too late she realised she had fucked up, that she had trapped herself by running headlong into the herd. It had spread out as herds tended to do, and she was left with no choice but to keep going, to fight them off. She was protected everywhere except for her face, and as the number of dead grew she charged through them, shoving them away, using her rifle to keep them back.

Catching a break she found herself in a small clearing, and it was only when she could draw breath again that she realised how terrified she was. She had done this to herself, and she was praying for another chance, a do-over. The next entrance to the Sanctuary was also locked, and she rattled and pounded at the door, yelling for someone to let her in. But as the Walkers drew nearer her again she fled once more, pushing through them. In the thick of it they clawed at her, grabbing at her clothing and slowing her down, and it was all she could do to protect her face, her most vulnerable place.

How could she have done this to herself? Daryl was right to forbid her from joining the fight, despite the screaming match they had over his right to tell her what to do. She had been riled up by his insistence, by what felt like a paternalistic order she stay out of the right, but dammit…he was right. She had no business putting her life at risk this way, threatening the life of her unborn baby. In her back pocket was the ultrasound photo, and how could she be trusted with the responsibility of being a mother when she pulled shit like this?

Something wrenched at her pony tail, almost knocking her flat on her arse, and she thought for certain that she was a goner, that it was over for her. Still putting up a fight she spun around to fight off the dreaded grip of death, but it wasn't a Walker that had hold of her…it was better, but at the same time undoubtedly just as bad.

Throwing his arm around her neck was Negan, and despite the fact that he was clearly saving her arse she fought against him, struggling as he dragged her clean off her feet. She could see only darkness as his other arm covered her face, and she gasped for breath with his arm around her neck, but in the back of her mind she knew he was protecting her bare skin, keeping the Walkers from biting or scratching her. He was yelling and shouting at her, even laughing as he dragged her through the herd, her struggles likely the source of his amusement. As he dragged her to safety she felt her legs and ankles knocking against something, and a split second later he released her, dumping her on the hard linoleum floor of the watch trailer.

Scrambling to get away she gaped in horror as she watched him fighting the Walkers away from the door, swinging Lucille and knocking their heads clean off their shoulders. The Walkers had to be twenty deep, but an opening presented itself, allowing him to slam the door shut and secure themselves safely inside. Not caring that he had saved her life Lana lunged for her rifle that had clattered to the floor a few feet away, but she barely got her hands on it before he was there, kicking it out of reach with a gleeful laugh.

"Lana James!" he exclaimed in delight, pointing Lucille at her. "Am I pleased as fuck to see you!"

With an unintelligible shriek she scrambled back to her feet, drawing her knife and lunging at him, but Negan just laughed at her again. With unfair ease he simply knocked the knife out of her hand and looped one arm around her chest to force her into submission, settling Lucille aside. Enjoying himself he roughly patted her down, divesting her of another knife, handgun and her numerous magazines, all the while smirking as she tried to push him off. She scratched and clawed at him, but he was so damn big she could barely even reach his neck.

Seizing a nearby coffee pot she swung it at him, hearing a most satisfying thud as it connected with his head, and he faltered as hot coffee spilled over the both of them. He released her and pushed her away, but still this bastard was laughing, amused as if he were toying with her. Still in possession of the coffee pot she threw it at him as hard as she could, his laughs turning into a shout of pain when it connected with his forehead, but still his mood didn't darken. Shaking his head in exasperation he advanced on her, seizing her by the upper arms and pushing her against the far wall…but what he did next left her so shocked she could barely respond.

He kissed her hard, his lips moving over hers with the kind of lust and passion she had come to enjoy during the few short months she spent as his wife. The voice inside her head was screaming at her to push him off, to bite down on his tongue when he slipped it into her mouth, but she felt so taken aback she didn't know what to do. He moaned against her lips, one hand stroking the side of her neck and encouraging her to kiss him back, but she couldn't. An unkind thought came to mind, that Daryl didn't have the desire to kiss her like this no matter how much she wanted him to. Daryl didn't want her anymore, but the moment that thought came to mind she felt herself jolt back to reality.

Biting down on his tongue she tried to push Negan away, but though he wrenched his mouth away from hers he did not retreat. He chuckled under his breath as he looked down at her, boldly daring to kiss her again, closed mouth this time, and then finally he let her go. Stepping back he brought his hand to his mouth and wiped the saliva from his lips, looking at her as though it were months ago, as though they were back in his room on date night.

"God fucking dammit," he panted, still smiling at her. "How I've missed you, Hot Stuff."

Also panting for breath, Lana looked at him incredulously, trying to rationalise the situation. But as he backed up a little further to give her more space it occurred to her that this wasn't the worst that could have happened. It wasn't exactly according to plan, he'd be dead by now if it were, but maybe…just maybe, this was exactly how it was meant to go.

* * *

A/N I hope you enjoyed not only my little twist on the Sanctuary attack, but also my twist on who gets locked in that trailer with Negan! He and Lana have so much unfinished business, and she's got quite the plan up her sleeve to destabilise the Sanctuary! Any guesses for what she's going to do?

Are you guys enjoying? With the exception of my regular reviewers (I love you guys!) the reviews have been pretty sparse last few chapters (but a big jump in views?). It feels disheartening, I just hope you guys enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing :-)

Next chapter is going to be awe-some!


	70. Chapter 70

A/N Spoilers!

Well, I'm glad they left Rick's departure open ended, but I'm not sure about the series and tv movie going forward without the character relationships that make this show so special. No Rick and Michonne? No Rick and Daryl? It's gonna need one hell of a compelling story to convince me Rick is gone for so many years, presuming he ever returns.

* * *

There was absolute silence, and not just because of the Walkers outside. Neither of them really trusting themselves to speak anymore, Negan and Lana now sitting on opposite sites of the trailer staring one another down. The tension was palpable, an enormous gulf of unfinished business lay between them, and Lana wasn't sure if she was angry or pleased with the position she was in. She had come here to kill him, to take Arat's place and work things from the inside so the Lieutenants would surrender…now she was stuck in a contained space with Negan, putting up with his bullshit again.

Passing the time she looked around the watch trailer, feeling strangely nostalgic. The watch trailer was a place she had spent many hours once she had earned her place as a trusted worker, but before becoming Negan's wife. The coffee pot was always full, the cupboard well stocked with snacks and supplies, and a couch frequently utilised for a quick power nap…but more often than not, a quick screw. How many times had she come out here with Vetor, always convinced that sex meant he loved her, that things were going to be different?

Perhaps that was what felt confusing about Daryl. Vetor had often wanted sex, and she was always willing because she thought it meant something. Daryl on the other hand always waited for her to initiate it, not that she could blame him for being completely uninterested in recent weeks. The two men were a stark contrast, making it difficult for her to really be sure of where she stood with Daryl. Very rarely did Vetor actually mean what he said, but while Daryl was often secretive and aloof, he always spoke his mind…she trusted that he meant what he said. The more she dwelled on this the more she thought she and Daryl were good for each other, maybe in an _eat your broccoli_ kind of way. Despite that, it sure as shit wasn't easy connecting with him.

"Oh please…somebody help me, please…"

At the sound of this cry for help Lana feel her chest ache, and she clenched her hands together as she looked into her lap. Gregory was trapped out there, clinging to the side of the burnt out RV inches away from the Walkers who were clawing for him. He couldn't pull himself to safety, and he wouldn't have the strength to hold himself there for much longer, for forty minutes had passed already. Though the Hilltop community had undoubtedly saved both her life and her pregnancy she thought very little of their leader, conscious that he had only provided her refuge at the insistence of his own people. If Gregory had his way she and Sasha would have been turned away at the gate, and she would have died.

Gregory looked out for himself only, choosing the biggest bully in the yard to align himself with for protection, all the while reaping the credit and benefits of a revered leader…but he didn't deserve to go down like this. Every cry for help made Lana's chest ache, her eyes stinging with tears the longer it lasted…why couldn't he just let go and get it over with? Why couldn't one of the Saviours shoot him and put him out of his misery? Why couldn't one of the allies who were in place as snipers? It would be kinder than letting him go down like this.

She had a clear line of sight to him, but there was nothing Lana could do. They had no weapons left with which to defend themselves. Negan, the stupid fucking arsehole, had tossed them all out the window with a gleeful look on his face, leaving them both defenceless and surrounded by a herd of hundreds. Perfectly good guns, ammunition and knives…he had screwed her over yet again, forcing her to depend solely on him if she wanted to survive. It wasn't the first time he had backed her into a corner like this, forcing her to chose him. They had only Lucille with which to defend themselves, Lucille who would never be tossed out a window. At this she thought of another Lucille, the cursive tattoo on Negan's inner arm that was always covered with a bandage. He claimed it was a wrist support, a brace for an old sports injury, but she had seen the skin he was hiding. Kind of difficult to keep the bandage perfectly in place with the way he liked to screw. The tattoo there was old and faded, from long before he had ever wrapped a baseball bat in barbed wire and given it a name. Whoever the real Lucille was, he didn't share her with anyone.

A gut wrenching howl interrupted her thoughts, so horrible it felt like it was physically piercing her heart. Gregory was going down, his cries for help turning into broken howls of agony. Bringing her knees up to her chest she raised her hands to her ears, trying to block out the sound of his lonely death. She had heard this kind of thing too many times…how many more times would she have to endure it? How many more people that she knew?

"Didn't know you were so fond of him," Negan commented, tilting his head as he peered over at her.

There was a clatter as he tossed a box of Kleenex over, and even though he wasn't mocking her she petulantly kicked it away, refusing anything from him. Gregory's death had passed quickly, and as his cries faded she lowered her hands from her ears, realising that she was shaking. She tried to hide it, crossing her arms over her chest and blinking the tears from her eyes before they could fall.

"The man wasn't worth the shirt on his back," Negan said lowly, sitting back and bringing one foot up onto the opposite knee. He winced in pain, slowly lowering his foot back to the ground and placing his hand on the other leg, trying to alleviate an injury. "Why'd you risk your ass for him?"

Considering these words, Lana took a moment to dwell. Negan thought she had been trying to help Gregory, not that she was making a break for the Sanctuary. He didn't suspect her plans to sabotage him from the inside out.

"He was good to me," she lied, her voice little louder than a whisper.

Negan scoffed at this, sounding annoyed. Looking at him from the corner of her eye she was pleased to note that he actually did look annoyed. He must hate that he had been so thoroughly deceived, that Rick and Alexandria had pulled the wool over his eyes. Their alliances with other communities, her and Daryl's survival, the rebellion of the Hilltop Colony against their own leader…all of it, a surprise to him.

"Your friend Rick is an asshole."

Lana glanced in his direction, glad that it was dark enough she didn't have to look at him properly. "You're the arsehole."

"I love the way you say that," he chuckled, restlessly tapping his foot. " _Arsehole_. Yeah, I am…" he trailed off. "But Rick's gonna get people killed."

"By you."

Negan shook his head, not bothered by her accusations. "See, I killed the asian and the ginger, but I didn't _get_ them killed. That was your friend Rick…your man Daryl. Big difference."

"And Vetor?" she countered. "Did Rick get him killed?"

There was a pause now, but he answered. "You know, I'm sorry about that…but it had to happen. For Rick, you see. Vetor was a problem for him."

Feeling her anger being stoked, Lana sat up a little straighter and faced him. "I know what you promised him," she accused. "You promised he could have me if he sold out Alexandria."

"I suppose that offends you?"

"It does," she said shortly. "Vetor didn't own me any more than you owned me."

At this Negan let out a lighthearted laugh, picking up Lucille and laying her across his lap. "Mmmm, you always did make that clear, didn't you. Flirting with my men when you knew I was looking, flirting with _him_ …fucking him. I admit, I didn't kill him just for Rick, I killed him for me." He paused, looking at her as if waiting for a sign that she was upset, but then he continued. "It should be a constitutional right, don't you think? The right to gut the son of'a bitch who sticks his dick in your woman."

Not knowing what to say, Lana fell silent. She wished she hadn't brought Vetor up at all, for now all she could picture in her mind's eye was the sight of him sprawled out on the streets of Alexandria, his insides literally spilling out of him when he reanimated and came after her. Drawing him out of the community she had set him free into the world, subjecting him to the indignity of being a Walker. Before that day she had already given up on him and tried to move on, but now that he was dead she was actually grieving for him, for all the promises he never fulfilled.

"For the love of Christ," Negan moaned dramatically, loudly putting his head back against the wall of the trailer. "Did you know that bitch Carrie turned my wives against me?"

"How sad for you."

"It is sad. It is fucking sad. Twenty eight days since I've had a screw. Twenty eight long, dry days, all because of her."

"And you're telling me, why?"

He made a low sound in the base of his throat, a sound she recalled well. "How'd you like to come jump on my dick? For old time's sake…I won't tell if you won't."

"No."

"I'll make sure you're taken care of," he assured her. "You know how attentive I am to the needs of a woman."

"I see nothing's changed," she sighed impatiently. "Still a sex pest."

"Don't say that, I know you like it. And I know you liked it with me."

"You don't know that."

"Oh, but I do," he insisted, sitting forward on the edge of the couch and leaning towards her. "Women can fake a lot of things, but there's no faking the way your legs would shake when I got just the right spot."

To her disgust he threw his head back and let out a breathy moan, the high pitch of his voice a clear indication that it was her he was mimicking. "Stop it," she ordered, her cheeks reddening when he only continued, shaking his knees back and forth. "Negan, stop!"

"P-please, yes," he gasped loudly, barely able to get the words out as he trailed off into fits of laughter. "Yes, yes! Harder…fas - _argh_ _!_ "

The coffee pot made another loud _thunk_ when she threw it at him a third time, and still the damn thing didn't break. But though it had genuinely hurt him the bastard was still laughing at her, cackling madly as he grabbed it before she could throw it at him again. Looking genuinely impressed with her he managed to stagger to his feet, wincing as he bore weight on his injured leg.

"Damn, Mrs Negan," he complained, mopping up blood from his split lip before it spilled over his chin. "I think you chipped my tooth."

"I should have chipped something else," she threatened, lunging for the coffee pot again.

"Oh, come on! Settle down," he insisted, holding it up high where she stood no chance of reaching it. "I was just having a laugh."

Seething in anger she glared at him, hands clenched into fists as if she was going to lay a punch, but she knew she didn't stand a chance. Besides, she didn't want to get into a physical confrontation with anyone, not given she had a pregnancy she'd very nearly lost. Slowly she backed away and returned to the other end of the trailer, but her defiant glare of anger never relented.

"Come on," he pleaded with her, sitting back down and patting his hand on his lap. "I won't tell if you don't."

"No."

"He'll never have to know," he continued, sounding wistful. "I bet he doesn't even know what you like."

Slowly resuming her place on the floor, Lana weighed up the merits of letting this conversation continue. Did it really matter if she let him have the last word? "I thought you didn't want to measure dicks."

"Pillow Princess," he teased. "If it weren't for me you'd still be faking orgasms…I taught you everything. I taught you how to touch yourself, how to figure out what got you off. Every orgasm you ever have, you can thank me for it."

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't know you were so fragile you have to take credit for my sex life."

If her comment bothered him it didn't show. "All those times we were together, the two of us just hanging out with my hand in your panties…you loved every minute of it."

She scrutinised him for a few moments, casting her mind back to what Carrie had told them at the Kingdom, to the things she already knew about Negan. Being Negan's wife was a mainly decorative role, but still she had come to know him as a wife might…she knew what would cut deep.

"Maybe…but I didn't love you."

He made a sound as if wounded, clutching his chest dramatically.

"None of them love you," she stated, letting acid fill her every word. "No wonder they won't let you touch them. None of them can fucking stand you."

"They'll come around," he shrugged indifferently, casually sitting back in the chair. "They always do."

"Not after what you did to Carrie. I know what you liked about her…you couldn't fuck her, but you could make her talk to you. Could make her spend time with you because she had no other choice. No wonder you freaked out when she left your sorry arse. The others won't be far behind, and then who will you have?" She paused a moment, knowing from his silence that she had struck a nerve. "Your bed will be pretty lonely with only Lucille for company, she doesn't care what you have to say either…not after what you did to her."

She had been stabbing in the dark with that last comment, playing on the very little information she had on the Lucille tattooed on the inside of his wrist. But to her delight Negan lurched. It was a split second, he hid his reaction well, but she saw the look on his face. A malevolent darkness came over his eyes, and this he didn't try to hide. Very slowly he leant forward, one hand wrapped tight around Lucille's handle, but he didn't raise her.

"I don't want to kill you, Lana," he said lowly, his tone of voice more threatening than a yell. "You've got life inside you. That's worth preserving, even if it is _his_."

She too leaning forward, Lana challenged him. "What bothers you more? That I'm having Daryl's baby, or that I'm not having yours?"

"I don't give a fuck whose baby you're having, so long as you're having it. You are having it, right?"

"You don't believe I'm pregnant?"

"How can I trust you? How can I trust a cocksucker like Rick? You'd better hope you weren't lying, because if you not in the family way I've got no use for you."

"You don't have a use for me anyway," she said confidently, trusting in the plan she and Cyndie devised.

Negan chuckled darkly, twisting Lucille around in his hand. "I might not have Carrie anymore, but you're a ticking time bomb too…just got a little more time on the clock now. Rick won't let you go down."

"He knows you won't ever hurt me. Carrie told us how she was treated."

He laughed again, more jovially this time. "Carrie was different. She was a fucking lady."

"And I'm not?"

"You're no lady," he sneered. "You're a whore, the best kind of woman there is. Sure you won't jump on for a quick ride?"

This time she didn't dignify his suggestion with another refusal. Negan seemed not to mind however, his attention already turned to something else. He was patting down his pockets, looking for something.

"He's cute," Negan commented producing one of the polaroid photographs Rick had tossed to him. He was unfolding it, smoothing out the creases before studying it carefully. "What did she name him?"

Knowing it was the picture of Carrie and the baby, Lana carefully chose her words. "That's none of your business."

"Don't be a bitch," he said in annoyance, glancing up at her. "I know it's natural an' all, but don't. What did she name him?"

Again she refused to say, enjoying his reaction. This too had been widely discussed, for this wasn't the first time that Negan had asked about Carrie and the baby. But Rick and Carrie had both been vehement about it, that Negan was not to know anything else about their child.

"Doesn't matter," he sighed, tucking the polaroid onto the inside of his jacket. "I'll ask her myself."

"Good luck with that."

"You think we're not getting out of here?" he questioned, tilting his head. "You think my people aren't getting out of the Sanctuary?"

She quirked her eyebrows, looking to the windows.

"We always find a way, and when we do, I'm paying a little visit to Alexandria. If that _is_ where he's keeping her."

Though on the inside she was pleased he was planning to go straight to Alexandria, she made a point of not letting this show. "You won't get inside the walls. You think Rick's not guarding his family?"

"Well I'm keen as fucking mustard to find out," he declared, finally standing up and holding Lucille by his side. "You ready to get make like the exorcist and get the hell outta here?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"They're thinning out," he commented, looking through one of the windows. "You're dressed like a damn Storm Trooper, and I've got a swing to rival Mickey Mantle. All we gotta do is make a run for it and not fuck it up."

Lana scoffed in derision. "You first."

"I was thinking we would watch each other's backs. Promise I won't use you as a human shield."

"No thanks."

"Then what the fuck do you have in mind?" he asked impatiently, lifting Lucille up and passing her back and forth between his hands. "Would you care to fucking contribute to resolving our mutual ass fucking?"

Having already figured it would come to this, Lana slowly got back to her feet and looked around the trailer, knowing its structure. Looking forward to Negan's reaction she went to the panel near the door and roughly kicked at the wooden struts, the weather beaten wood practically crumbling. But as the Walkers began reaching inside Negan freaked, rushing forward and pulling her back.

"The fu-"

"Are you helping or hindering?" she questioned loudly, shoving him off her as she was struck by a sudden memory of her mum saying the exact same words many years ago. It was one of the most frequent things she said, particularly as a working parent with four kids.

"You lost your mother fucking mind?"

"Trust me." Shoving past him she returned to the spot and kicked at the rest of the wooden struts, letting more and more hands reach in, and then she crouched down and selected the Walker of choice. With her hands protected from leather gloves she grabbed at the Walker's left and right hands and then roughly yanked it inside, panting for breath before looking up at Negan. "A little help?"

Apparently trusting her just enough, Negan shook his head in exasperation before crouching down to assist. With his help she managed to haul the Walker through the small opening, and when Negan stomped on it's head to put it down she rolled it over onto its back. It was decayed enough already that it's skin tore like tissue paper, making it all too easy for her to grab a handful of its decayed organs. Trying not to smile she boldly flung them up onto Negan's stomach, knowing all too well that it was the kind of action that could see her taking a baseball bat to the head, but he merely cringed in disgust.

"Fucking Christ…we gotta risk eating it, by eating it?"

"Yep," she confirmed, flinging another handful of tissue at him.

"Alright, I get it," he said shortly, nudging her with Lucille when she tried to do it a third time. "You ever done this before?"

"Not personally."

Taking care of herself now she began smearing the blood and viscera over her shoulders and sleeves, reaching behind herself to get as much as possible onto her back. She could feel her ponytail catching in it, the stench making her stomach turn as bile rose in her throat, but she persevered. Carrie had taught her about this, regaling her with stories of her time on the road when she covered her entire body in Walker guts for months on end, smearing it onto her skin and rubbing it through her hair. The day Rick and the others found her on the side of the road they thought she was a Walker she looked and smelled so disgusting, but it had kept her safe.

Negan was crouched on the other side of the Walker, going about the same process as she. "You get sick from this shit?"

"I'm Australian, I don't get sick," she said shortly, slowly raising her eyes to his. "But others might not be so lucky."

Muttering words of disgust under his breath he continued the process, both of them gagging and retching intermittently. They were as thorough as possible, clearing out the abdominal cavity of the Walker, draping intestines around their neck and over their shoulders like a scarf, wiping their gloves clean on the front of their jeans. Finally ready to take the risk they rose to their feet, looking at one another with an unexpected sense of camaraderie. Right now they were enemies, but Negan needed her to use against Rick, and unbeknownst to him Lana needed to get inside the Sanctuary…it was better for them both if they worked together on this.

Without a word Negan boldly opened the trailer door, the two of them waited with bated breath as the Walkers began filing in, and Lana enjoyed watching the emotions playing out across his face. Determination, doubt, fear…followed by relief. When he realised it was working he let out a silent chuckle, looking at her and giving a nod of admiration. They waited as the Walkers continued filing in, standing still and silent as they were jostled around and engulfed in more stench, but once the trailer had reached capacity it was safe for them to move.

Negan went first, slowly emerging from the trailer and making his way down the steps. He walked slowly and without movement that might draw attention, and when he reached the concrete below he stopped and waited for her, taking her by the hand when she joined him. It felt completely surreal, not just walking hand in hand with Negan of all people, but to be back at the Sanctuary once again. She hadn't seen this place in well over a year, and yet here it was, surrounded by a herd of Walkers, windows shattered and smoke from the RV polluting the air.

They took it slow, Negan leading the way towards the nearest loading dock where they could get inside. The Walkers hadn't thinned as he thought, forcing them to slowly weave in and around them, constantly bumping into them, but their movements were small enough that they made their way through unnoticed. If they had made a run for it as Negan suggested that would have both gone down, neither of them would have made it.

Not a moment too soon they reached the loading dock, Lana hesitating when she found it was at shoulder height. She had recovered well from the surgery to remove her appendix, but she was still under instruction to take it easy, and she wasn't sure she could pull herself up without drawing the attention of the Walkers. But as if he too had foreseen this problem Negan squeezed her hand to get her attention, and then he leant close to her ear and whispered.

"I'll give you a leg up. Go on."

Not rejecting his help she waited as he lowered himself down to one knee, patting the top of his leg and reaching out for her hand. Taking it slow she took his hand and stepped up onto his leg, and he looped his other arm around her waist as he slowly rose and helped her up. Getting to her feet she brushed herself off and then turned back to Negan who was placing Lucille up on the dock as he prepared to pull himself up. But as she watched him Lana was struck by an impulse, her thoughts aligning in that split second. She didn't need Negan for her plan to work. It didn't matter if he was dead or alive, she'd make it inside, she'd be able to manipulate things…so she seized the opportunity.

She waited for the right moment, the split second in which Negan was most vulnerable. His head was bowed as he pulled himself up, getting one knee onto the loading dock, but he didn't get the opportunity to make it all the way. Seizing Lucille from between his hands Lana kicked him square in the face, using the full force of her strength before leaping back. His eyes widened in horror, arms flailing for something to grab hold of as he began to fall, but there was nothing to save him.

"Shi - Lana!"

With an angry yell he fell back, knocking over two Walkers as he hit the ground hard and scrambled to find his feet. Blood was pouring from his nose, his eyes filled with dismay as he realised what she had done to him, that she had gotten the better of him. He called out to her again, an impulse plea for help, but his voice trailed off in despair when he saw that she had Lucille in her hands.

Smirking at him she slung Lucille across the front of her shoulder, watching a second more as the Walkers converged on him. Hearing his angry roars as he fought for his life she boldly made her way towards the closest door, not caring if it was locked or unlocked.

She had done her job…she was going to be discovered and imprisoned just like she wanted, and she had taken Negan down with her.

* * *

The outposts attacks were over now, but no one was celebrating.

Rick and Daryl were rushing back to the Kingdom, getting Ezekiel to help as soon as possible. Sitting beside him in the Jeep was Carol, while holed up in the back was Ezekiel under the care of Jerry. There had been a slaughter at the Chemical Outpost, they had lost all but three. The very Brownings that were now stacked in the back were not supposed to have been there - they should have been at Regina's outpost, the Office Plaza…at least according to Arat. It wasn't unexpected that as the newest Lieutenant she didn't quite have the clout required to determine where high powered weapons like the Brownings were relocated to, but she had given them nothing to say that they had been moved. It didn't matter how the situation had come about, Rick placed the blame for the deaths squarely with Arat.

Nevertheless, all five outposts were down, that much he knew. Those who could were reconvening at the Kingdom to take stock of their losses and prepare for the next stage, and if they were lucky there would be time to rest, to absorb the horrors they had endured in the name of freedom. But even after the success of taking down five outposts they had yet another advantage, thirty nine Saviours from the Satellite Station who had surrendered. Right now they would be cuffed and chained together, making the long journey on foot to the Hilltop where makeshift prisons were awaiting them. Later some vehicles would be sent out to meet them, but only to ensure the comfort of the allies escorting them, people like Tara and Jesus stuck leading the chain gang.

The question of what to do with them was weighing on Rick's mind, but they were a problem for another time.

As they arrived at the Kingdom the gates swung open to admit them, and waiting inside were Mak, Brea and their team of trainees. As Daryl soared in behind him on the motorbike Rick brought the Jeep to a stop and rushed to jump out, helping as a stretcher was brought over for Ezekiel. All the while he kept his head lowered and eyes downcast, unable to face the Kingdom residents. Ezekiel's group had by far suffered the greatest losses, and though they had been willing participants it felt like he was the one who brought them to war in the first place. He tried to remind himself that while Glenn and Abraham's deaths had been the catalyst for Alexandria, the Kingdom had sustained their own losses that propelled them into war, Richard and Benjamin. This wasn't his fault…it was just difficult to remember that.

As Ezekiel was rushed away Rick and Daryl stepped into the background and allowed Carol to deliver the news, to tell the Kingdom what had happened to their loved ones. For now she didn't go into detail, for which Rick was grateful. When they drove by the Chemical Plant and found Carol, Ezekiel and Jerry there was no missing that they were fleeing from their own people, that they had turned. The body armour and Kevlar vests were nothing against a 50 calibre BMG, the slaughter leaving holes in chests the size of his fist, literally tearing limbs from bodies…and on his orders, this might happen again.

"Rick? We're taking these now?" Michael asked, approaching him where he stood and gesturing to the Brownings in the back of the Jeep. "To Alexandria?"

Mentally shaking himself from the horrific scene in his head Rick nodded and then pulled the keys from his pockets. "You'll need to gas it up," he said, grateful that everyone still seemed to have their head in this. "Will you tell Carl I'm okay?"

"It'll be the first thing out of my mouth," he assured him, clasping him on the shoulder, and then Daryl too. "We'll get set things set up back home. We'll be ready for them."

"It might not come to that. They might surrender."

"Yeah," Michael murmured, sounding unconvinced. "Maybe."

As Michael and a few others left he nudged Daryl, getting his attention before directing him towards the makeshift medical tent set up a few yards over. They weren't expecting an ounce of attention from the doctors currently attending to those actually wounded, but they were capable of patching themselves up. Soon they would make their way back to the Sanctuary to wait the Saviours out, but first they took advantage of the medical supplies waiting for them. Anything was liable to happen out there, and he wasn't willing to risk getting Walker blood into any cuts or grazes. As they patched themselves up he stuffed some spare bandages and supplies into his satchel, wanting to have everything at hand should they need it.

There was no telling how long it would take things to pan out with the surrender. Either Negan would be taken down by his own people, or he'd surrender and be shot from afar, it didn't matter which…it didn't even matter if Rick couldn't do it with his own two hands. Regardless of how long he had to wait, once Negan was out of the picture the allies would take down the Walkers and free the people inside. He wasn't naive about what they were facing, he knew there'd be a follow up fight, but any final surge of violence would be taken down swiftly. Rick quietly admitted to himself that he was hoping for another fight, that he wanted to take down more of the Saviours. Those at the Sanctuary were among Negan's most loyal, his highest ranking lieutenants. One way or another, they were going to die too. That morning he gave them all adequate warning, had told them their survival wasn't guaranteed any time but then…his decision was already made.

At this thought his mind again turned to the thirty nine men and woman currently making their way to the Hilltop, the prisoners of war. Thirty nine extra mouths to feed and care for, to stand guard over, and when the war was done Rick would probably have to let them go. Killing them after a cooperative surrender would be a cold blooded execution, something Negan would do. It would be simpler to kill them all, it was his preferred course of action…but he wasn't sure he could justify it yet. Perhaps if he was lucky the prisoners would create trouble, give them just cause to kill them all. Until then, he wasn't sure what to do.

As he cleaned up he glanced at his wedding ring, noticing that it was a little looser than it had been when Carrie gave it to him five months ago. Restless, he turned it round and round on his finger. The initial attacks were over now, and surely they were going to face a stalemate for at least a day before any talk of surrender began. He could go down to Oceanside. At least he ought to check in, to let Carrie know that he was alright. He missed her, he missed their children…but he knew he couldn't go. Word would be sent that the war was going well, she would learn soon enough that he was okay. For now, that would have to be enough for the both of them.

"Alright?" he asked quietly, looking at Daryl.

He was sitting on a bench smoking, elbow on his knee and head resting in his hand. His only response was a short nod to acknowledge the question, but it was an indication of his answer. For a few moments Rick lingered there, wondering if there was something he should say. They had made it, but there'd been some close calls that day, and what they saw at the Chemical Plant, the Kingdomers massacred…they'd never get that sight out of their heads. Leaving him be for a little while he slung the satchel over his shoulder and then departed the medical tent, keeping his eyes downcast as he began heading for the parking lot. All around him he could hear the grief of the Kingdomers, people crying in despair, strained voices trying to make sense of what had happened, that they had to go on fighting even after all they had lost.

Loitering in the parking lot were Cyndie and Beatrice, and though they were clearly waiting for him Rick wished they would just leave him be. All he wanted to do was sit in the car and wait for Daryl, to be alone for a while with his thoughts, his doubts and fears. But he owed Cyndie and her people so much. She'd gone against her grandmother to fight alongside him, she was providing refuge to those who needed it, to his family. He owed Cyndie a great deal.

He was bracing himself for a series of words and phrases he knew well, already mentally detaching himself… _I'm sorry for your loss_. Oceanside had lost three women that day, he'd heard chatter over the radios. Now he was prepared to not only offer condolences, but encouragement too. Selfishly he still needed them, no matter how painful the grief and loss they suffered.

But before he could start the words fell silent on his lips, his brow furrowing as he picked up on the tense atmosphere. A few yards away Tara was leaning against one of the other cars, her arms folded across her chest and her face set in a scowl. In contrast Cyndie and Beatrice stood opposite her, looking chaste and apprehensive of his arrival.

"What is it?" he asked expectantly, looking between all three of them. Tara's scowl only deepened, while Cyndie and Beatrice exchanged nervous looks. "Well?"

Still there was hesitation, but after another glance between one another Cyndie and Beatrice stepped apart and gestured into the car. Intrigued, Rick crouched down and peered inside the small car, but his hands clenched into tight fists when he saw what it was they had, or rather who. Plain as day, sitting in the back seat was Arat, looking just as nervous as the others. She swallowed heavily, her lips pressed together as they stared at one another and awaited his reaction.

Keeping his temper admirably, Rick turned away from the car and took a moment. From the corner of his eye he saw Daryl emerging from the medical tent, and not wanting to draw his attention any sooner than he had to he kept his cool as he turned to Tara.

"What the hell is _she_ doing here?"

"I had nothing to do with it," she said tightly, her tone so fraught with anger she could barely speak.

"You were driving the truck."

"We were five blocks away before I saw her," Tara snapped uncharacteristically. "This was all them!"

"Please, don't be angry," Cyndie said from behind him. "It's not Tara's fault. It's ours."

"Damn right it's yours," he agreed, already putting the pieces together as he looked into the car again. "You're supposed to be at the Sanctuary!"

"Please…hear us out, Rick."

"Us?" he questioned, turning back to Cyndie. "Who is us?"

"M-me and Lana."

At even the mention of Lana he felt his stomach drop, already knowing that something bad had happened. When he told Daryl earlier that she had gone back on her word and had joined the fight he'd been infuriated…was that about to get a whole lot worse? He too having seen the tension Daryl had hastened to join them, his boots thudding across the concrete as he arrived.

"What's gon' on?" he asked, walking past Cyndie and Beatrice to join him.

Rick prepared himself to moderate not only his reaction, but Daryl's too. "Cyndie, she was supposed to be with you. Where is she?"

"Who? Lana?" Daryl demanded in worry. He looked around for her, but when his question was met with silence his temper flared. "Where the fuck is she?"

"We planned this," Cyndie said quickly, rushing through her words to placate them. "She's going to be fine. It's just, we knew once we told Negan that Oceanside were fighting, he'd never trust Arat. He'd-"

"You said you could convince him you weren't a traitor," Rick reminded Arat, but she was wisely averting her eyes and keeping her mouth shut. "She had plausible deniability."

"He would have never believed her," Cyndie argued, moving between them. "You were so determined to show Negan there were too many of us to fight, someone had to make sure Arat got out alive."

For a moment Rick held his tongue, knowing that this had been a point of contention over the last few weeks. Lana in particular had been vocal in her opposition to the plan. Revealing the involvement of Oceanside had been to intimidate the Saviours, to tell them upfront that they had the numbers to fight them, and he had known the entire time that it would be throwing Arat under the bus, leaving her to fend for herself in there. Had he really expected Cyndie and Lana to just go along with that?

"Where's Lana?" he asked lowly. Beside him Daryl took a sharp step forward, stopping only when Rick put out his hand.

"She and I planned this. It was her idea," Cyndie added. "We only told Arat at the last minute, she didn't have a choice, so-"

"What did she do?" Daryl demanded, shoving Rick's hand aside.

Taking a few steps back Cyndie braced herself before explaining. "She took the Sanctuary keys from your coat. When Arat brought the kids out I made her come with us, and when the RV blew she made a run for it into the Sanctuary…she wanted to get herself caught."

Rick stared at Cyndie in disbelief, certain he had misunderstood.

"Lana went in there?" he clarified, horror rising inside him when Cyndie nodded. "And you let her?"

"She wanted to g-"

"You stupid bitch!" Daryl growled, dropping his crossbow and lunging at Cyndie. "She's havin' a damn baby!"

"Daryl, wait," he implored, stepping in his way and holding him back.

"You think about her baby when you pulled this shit?" he shouted, drawing the attention of others in the vicinity. He struggled against Rick and managed to shove him away, but upon freeing himself he didn't advance on Cyndie again. "She's gonna get killed!"

"I'm sorry," Cyndie implored, the sentiment echoed by Beatrice who was standing in front of the car door. "She wanted to do this. We had to get Arat out of there, but we still needed someone on the inside."

Taking a moment to ensure Daryl wasn't going to lunge, Rick braced himself before turning back to Cyndie. "We are now in exactly the same position we were a month ago. Negan will use her to make us surrender!"

"He won't get the chance," Cyndie insisted. "Lana can get out of the cell, she has the keys."

"Them cells lock from the outside," Daryl shouted. "How's she gonna unlock the door?"

"Frankie will let her out," Arat explained from inside the car, speaking for the first time. "I already told her to."

"Th-"

"Lana knows what she's doing," Cyndie continued, standing her ground. "She's going to turn everyone against Negan."

Rick swore under his breath, looking between Cyndie, Beatrice and Arat with a mixture of disbelief and disgust. "How long have you three been planning this?"

"A few days," Cyndie admitted. She glanced at Arat, looking apologetic for dragging her into this. "We didn't tell her until it was too late for her to say no. Frankie was there with the kids, we told her that she had to let Lana out of the cell, and then we made Arat come with us."

At this Daryl scoffed in derision, muttering under his breath as he lashed out and kicked his discarded crossbow. "I oughta fucking kill you," he threatened Arat, pointing his finger at her. "I oughta kill both of you!"

Intervening before anything else happened Rick stepped forward, reaching one hand out towards Daryl to placate him. Though he shared the sentiment they couldn't let this situation spiral out of control, for it was already bad enough - there was no use in making it worse. Daryl just looked at him pleadingly, asking for his blessing to do something, for him to understand. But Rick held his ground, even as he too fought the impulse to lash out, to make all three of them pay for the betrayal.

Incensed by what felt like a lack of support Daryl snarled under his breath, roughly shoving past him and walking away, and Rick let him go. He lingered there, watching Daryl and breathing a small sigh of relief when he saw that he wasn't doing anything rash…at least not yet. He turned back to Cyndie and Beatrice now, unsympathetic to the way they nervously held their breath, waiting for the consequences of what they'd done to save one of their own.

"Watch them," he instructed Tara, still looking at them in disgust.

Keeping them in his line of sight he followed in Daryl's footsteps, catching up to him before he could round the other side of the buildings. He tried to brush him off, telling him to piss off with a harshness not normally shown, but he refused.

When Daryl finally slowed to a stop his body language didn't soften, and restless in his anger he started to pace. It was a familiar sight, Daryl pacing like an animal confined to a cage, but what was confronting was the look of his face, an expression that made Rick's chest clench. He'd only seen Daryl like this once before, that night. He was frightened, hands shaking so much he could barely light his cigarette, and the brief glimpse he got of his eyes showed that they were brimming with tears. Struggling to hold himself together, Daryl lashed out.

"Why'd you let 'er come?" he accused, snapping his lighter shut. "You should've said no!"

They'd hashed this argument out before, on their journey to the Shepherd Office Plaza when he first told Daryl that Lana had joined them. The only thing that allowed it to blow over was the reassurance that she was sticking with Cyndie the entire day, that she only wanted to confront Negan and say her piece, for surely she deserved that. Now though that had been an empty comfort. Rick didn't respond to the accusation, knowing that Daryl didn't really blame him for the situation, even if a small part of him did.

Coming forward he put his hand on Daryl's shoulder, forcing him to stop his pacing. "I understand," he said quietly, looking him in the eye. "I understand."

Shrugging his hand off Daryl roughly turned away, turning his back on him, but he allowed him the solitude he was seeking. For a few moments they stood there like that, Rick glancing over his shoulder to ensure Cyndie, Beatrice and Arat were waiting where he had left them, and then finally he noticed Daryl's body language soften. He cleared his throat now, one hand rising to touch his face, and then without a word he extended his hand holding the cigarette, offering it to him.

Though he hadn't smoked a cigarette in months, due largely in part to threats made by his pregnant wife, Rick wasn't going to turn down this offer. Knowing what this gesture meant when it came from Daryl he took the cigarette and brought it to his lips, the taste and smell bringing a much needed sense of relief. This was a sorely missed ritual in times of stress, but he took only the one draw before giving it back, refusing it when Daryl passed it back again.

"You go to the Sanctuary with everyone else," Rick began, thinking out loud. "I know I can trust you to wait, to not make a move without me. Right?"

Though he avoided eye contact, when Daryl nodded he believed him.

"I'll take _her_ to the Hilltop," he continued, not needing to explain who he was talking about. "She's going in with the others. She is not free until we all are."

"Long drive to the Hilltop," Daryl commented, stomping on the cigarette butt before picking it up and pocketing it. "A lot can happen."

It wasn't necessary to read between the lines and understand what Daryl was getting at, that he wanted something to happen to Arat, to the Saviour who had betrayed their plan. Rick happened to be in complete agreement, that something should happen to someone who had screwed them over with such disastrous consequences…but they can't yet.

"If something happens to her, it can't happen yet," he murmured. "We need Oceanside to keep fighting for us."

Daryl scoffed, getting riled up. "They fuck us over, the-"

Placating him before he could really get started, Rick placed his hand on Daryl's arm. "When this is over, she's yours."

For a long moment Daryl stared at him, not blinking as he tried to gauge if Rick really meant that, or if he was just trying to placate him. To his surprise the conversation lapsed, Daryl picking up his crossbow and then walking away without another word, heading for the medical block where Carol would be with Ezekiel. He didn't say a word of goodbye, but Rick had to trust that he would do the right thing.

"You're going to the Sanctuary," he lectured Cyndie and Beatrice. "If this goes wrong for Lana, you're both going to be there to see it."

They both nodded quietly, but Beatrice cleared her throat and looked up. "And Arat?"

"What do you think?" he questioned, looking at them in disbelief. "She's going to Hilltop prison. She can sit in lockup with the other people she betrayed today."

"You can't send her to the Hilltop," Cyndie protested. "Our agreement was for her freedom."

"I don't recall the part of her agreement in which Lana took her place," he argued back. "You violated our agreement."

"I know," she acknowledged, her voice wavering from nerves. "But it's what Lana wanted, and-"

"Lana is not the one you made the agreement with," he swiftly rebuked her. "Do not misread the situation, Cyndie. If anything happens to her, I will hold you responsible. Do you understand?"

Her expression visibly fell, but her reply was cut short when he called to Tara. Ushering the others aside he opened the back door and looked in at Arat, satisfied to note that someone at least had the sense to handcuff her.

"This war would not be happening without my people here," Cyndie argued, following him to the driver's side. "Without my people looking after yours. Come on Rick, can't you meet me halfway here? Let her stay at the Kingdom with the kids from the Sanctuary."

"I am meeting you halfway. You and her are both still breathing."

"Please understand, I had to do it. You're the one who insisted on telling Negan that Oceanside were involved, he would have never believed Arat wasn't in on this."

He sympathised with the position he put her in, he really did, but Arat's safety had never been his priority. Wanting to get on the road without delay he lowered the sun visor to retrieve the keys, giving a nod of gratitude as Tara joined him in the passenger seat.

"I have a lot of respect for you Cyndie, I really do," he said honestly, looking her in the eyes. "I hope we're still friends at the end of all this."

She blinked at him, her brow furrowed. "And if we're not?"

He held her gaze a moment longer, letting her connect the dots of the thinly veiled threat he was making, and then he got into the car. With Tara by his side in the passenger seat and Arat helpless in the back he started the engine, and he didn't allow them a moment to say goodbye. As they pulled out and headed for the gate, one of the Kingdomers running ahead to open it for them, he looked into the rear vision mirror. Cyndie and Beatrice were watching them go, slowly following and waiting until they disappeared, while Arat was silent in the back. She kept her eyes downcast or looked out the window, but not one word of protest passed her lips.

In the passenger seat beside him Tara was silent, her face still set in a scowl that wasn't seen often. But like others she had hardened in recent times, and with a pang he suddenly thought of Denise, of her cruel death out on the road. It was frightening how easy it was to momentarily forget that they had lost someone, that Denise and Olivia too had been killed. After today their collective losses were in the dozens…that was a lot of graves to dig.

He couldn't be sure how far he had driven when he suddenly pulled the car to a dead stop, hands tightly clenched around the steering wheel. There was silence from the occupants of the car, the only sound coming from the humming of the car's engine as it idled in the middle of the road. Beside him Tara was avoiding eye contact, staring out the passenger window, but he didn't doubt that she knew what was going through his mind. He looked into the rear vision mirror at Arat, staring at her as she looked right back at him.

 _Long drive to the Hilltop. A lot can happen._

"Rick," Tara began quietly, turning to look at him. "Forty is better than thirty nine."

Caught between practicality of the war and how personal this had become, Rick lingered there a little longer, struggling to decide. He thought of Lana, wishing that he would stop forgetting the fact that for all her qualities she was still young and stupid. Purposefully getting herself caught by the Saviours was the type of shit he expected from Carl, a startling reminder that she wasn't really that much older than him. And now she was trapped at the Sanctuary, another prisoner for Negan and the Saviours to humiliate and terrorise…

With a grim resolution, Rick returned his foot to the accelerator and sent them back on their journey. Tara was right. Negan might have a prisoner of theirs, but Rick had plenty of his…forty was better than thirty nine.

* * *

"Strip."

Knowing better than to argue with Paula, particularly given the current state of things, Lana nervously obeyed the order. Starting with her gloves she pulled them off, her fingers trembling as she tried to remove the body armour that had protected her well, but the clasps were damp with blood and viscera that made her fingers slip. It was tedious work, particularly under Paula's cold glare, but she set her body armour aside and then removed her kevlar, passing that over when Paula clicked her fingers for it.

"Keep going."

Though she had expected and planned for a strip search, it didn't make removing her clothes any easier. They were alone in the room, and she was protected by the fact that Paula was standing by the door to prevent unwarranted entry, but still she was nervous. When she pulled off her shirt and tank top she felt her blood soaked pony tail sticking to her skin, reminding her of the blood that was all over her neck and jaw. Keeping the soiled clothes far away she kicked off her boots and socks, then removed her jeans. Visibly shivering from the cold she stood there in only her underwear, wondering if Paula would make her take those off too. She was incredibly conscious of what she had hidden and where, and she was keeping every muscle _down there_ tightly clenched…it would all fall apart if they discovered what she had hidden.

"Clean up," Paula ordered next, pointing to the red tank marked Water for Cleaning. "Get that shit out of your hair."

Still obedient, Lana did as instructed. She was shivering even more now as she turned the tap and allowed the water to flow, but she persevered and began washing the gore out of her pony tail. When the water ran clear she held her hair out of the way and began washing her neck and shoulders, cringing as trailed of red water ran down her arms and dripped from her fingers. But a short while later that too ran clear, indicating that she had thoroughly washed it away. Finishing up she clenched her pony tail in her hands and wrung it out, and then she returned to the centre of the room where she had been standing.

"Now what?" she asked, her voice wavering not from fear, but from the cold.

Her teeth were beginning to chatter, her skin covered in gooseflesh as she shivered yet again. Almost naked, unable to dry off, bare feet on concrete…Paula said nothing about it, just folded her arms and stared at her. Though many times Lana had posed in underwear far more revealing in front of many more people, she hadn't felt nearly as vulnerable and scared as she did now under the resentful glare of Paula. She knew what this Lieutenant could be like when people crossed her, and certainly she now fell into that category.

Without a word Paula came forward and started picking up her discarded clothes. Touching them as little as possible as she rifled through the pockets, finding that Negan had already divested her of everything…well, almost everything. She found the small ultrasound photo and studied it, and then without a care she screwed it up and tossed it aside. As she watched the crumpled ultrasound rolled away into the corner Lana resisted the urge to pick it up, knowing that it was just a piece of paper, nothing more.

Finished with her clothes and shoes Paula looked back up, clicking her fingers and pointing at her chest. "Take that off."

"Seriously?"

"I can do it for you."

Knowing she'd follow through on that threat, Lana steeled herself before reaching back and unclasping the bra. Holding it as close to herself as she could she let the straps slide off her shoulders, and she did her best to cover herself with her arms before passing the bra over. But though Paula took the bra she didn't let her off the hook, and she roughly seized her arms and wrenched them away from her chest.

"What the hell is your problem?" she exclaimed, her cheeks reddening as Paula looked at her breasts before letting go of her arms.

"Like I've never found a razor blade taped to someone's tits before," she said dryly, looking at the bra now. She scrutinised it carefully, feeling every inch of fabric before deciding it was no threat, but instead of giving it back she tossed it towards the other pile of clothes.

"Can I have it back?" she asked gently. "Please?"

"It's got underwire. No."

Fearing that the strip search would only become even more invasive if she continued to complain, Lana held her tongue. Instead she stood there in silence, curling her toes and using one foot to warm the other as she tried to stop shivering. With her arms across her chest she tucked her hands into her arm pits, turning her head a few times to dislodge her wet pony tail from between her shoulder blades. Though Paula seemed done with her for now and seemed to be waiting for something Lana could see her looking over at her, studying her lower belly. Despite the entire situation she still felt the momentary the impulse to puff out her belly and proudly show it off, not that there was anything to show in the first place. The other day she stood in front of the mirror and tried to push her belly out, but still it only looked like she was a little bloated. It was disappointing that she wasn't even showing yet…no wonder Negan didn't really believe she was pregnant.

Without warning the door opened, but to her relief it was only Regina, wearing the same cold stare that her colleague did. In her hands she carried a bundle of clothes which she roughly tossed at Lana, and grateful for it she hurriedly began to dress, not caring that they smelled terrible. It was the same beige uniform all the prisoners wore, and emblazoned on the sweater was an orange A…recalling small comments from Daryl, she wondered if this was the same uniform he had been given to wear when he was held captive here. The sleeve and lower legs were stiff with what looked like dried blood, and from what little she knew of Daryl and Carrie's escape she wondered if it was Laura's.

Now that she was dressed Paula escorted her out into the hallway and then down a flight of stairs, flanked by Regina and two other soldiers who had been waiting outside. They were all heavily armed and keeping a close watch on her, not understanding that she wasn't here to put up a fight, that this was exactly what she wanted. Everyone was staring at her with hate in their eyes, one of the men even spitting at her as she passed him by, not that she blamed any of them. After all, she was one of the people who brought the herd down on the Sanctuary, to blame for the deaths that had already occurred and that were still to come. As they made their way down a basement corridor she kept looking around, relieved to find that Arat was no where in sight, that she must have made it out Cyndie and Beatrice. She wondered if Daryl knew yet, if he was terribly mad at her.

As they turned left down one last corridor Lana had no choice but to face Negan once again. By some miracle he had made it through her attempt to kill him without a single bite or scratch, scrambling through the door barely ten seconds after she had. The whole damn Sanctuary had heard him bellowing like a wounded animal, but really he was more pissed off that she had taken Lucille than he was about her attempt to kill him. After all, attempts on his life from a known enemy weren't exactly a surprise.

When they drew closer to him she was forced to stifle a laugh. Negan's nose had borne the impact of her murderous kick, resulting in two black eyes and nostrils that were now packed with medical gauze. There was a lump above his left brow from where she had thrown the coffee pot at him the first time, and his lower lip was red and puffy from where she had hit him the third time…damn, she did him wrong.

"I know we've had our problems and all," he began dryly, glaring at her. "But pulling that shit? I never would have done that to you."

She tried to hold back, she really did, but his voice was distorted and nasal sounding from the gauze stuffed in his nose. His appearance in combination with the sound of his voice was undignified and lacking in his normal charisma. An embarrassing snort erupted from her mouth as she started laughing at him, feeling immensely proud of herself. "Shit. I'm not even sorry."

Taking the higher road Negan said nothing in response, simply ushering someone else forward, Doctor Carson. At his instruction she put her hands behind her head and kept them there, allowing him to come forward and lift her sweatshirt. He was studying the surgical wounds on her lower belly, and after donning some gloves he gently touched the flesh around them. As he studied her she looked at him critically, noticing that his white doctor's coat was marred by smears of blood. She felt smug at this, wondering how many people had gone down already.

"Any pain?"

"No."

"Tenderness?"

"Yes."

He nodded to himself, opening an antiseptic wipe and dabbing the skin around the wounds. "My brother's work, I suppose?" he thought out loud, continuing before Lana could answer. "He's a good doctor, but not much of a surgeon."

"I'm alive, aren't I?" she stated, defending Harlan against his own brother.

"That you are," he agreed, getting to his feet and turning to Negan. "She needs clean clothing."

Leaning against the wall with his arms folded, Negan narrowed his eyes in disapproval. "She's wearing _that_."

Carson shook his head. "No she's not. Those wounds need to stay clean."

"Then put a dressing on."

Carson shook his head again. "You brought me down here to ensure her good health. Clean clothes, no dressing."

A painful silence ensued, Negan glaring daggers at his own doctor, and his insistence that she wear these clothes only supported her suspicion that she had been given the clothes worn by Daryl. But he seemed to be choosing his battles, for he glanced at Regina and gave her a short nod.

While they awaited the clean clothing Carson opened his medical kit and rifled around, taking out what looked like a small radio and hand piece. But when he pressed the hand piece against her lower belly Lana realised it was a foetal monitor. This was to determine if she was telling the truth about her pregnancy, to determine whether or not she was worth keeping alive. When she heard the sound of the baby's heartbeat she felt the familiar sense of relief, but not wanting to aggravate Negan any more she resisted the urge to smile.

"A healthy one hundred and sixty five beats per minute," Carson commented, turning off the monitor before she really had time to enjoy listening to it. "How far along are you?"

"Thirteen weeks."

"You'll be needing a more thorough consultation. A urine test, ultrasound, blood glu-"

"No," Negan said roughly, his sharp tone leaving no room for Carson to argue.

Relieved at this, for she didn't need Carson poking around anywhere, Lana just stood there in silence. A few minutes passed as they waited for Regina to return, and when she did Carson made a point of studying the clothing, ensuring it was clean and warm enough to his satisfaction. With his approval given he passed them to her and turned away to pack up his bags, while Negan came forward and opened the nearby cell.

Not needing the instructions she tentatively made her way inside, and though Negan made a point of averting his eyes he didn't close the door. As she changed out of the clothes and into the clean beige uniform Lana looked around while she had enough light to do so. The cell was so small the mattress was laid diagonally just so it would fit, but the blankets and pillows were numerous, as were the supplies that had been provided. A battery operated lantern with a pack of spares, a bucket with lid and roll of toilet paper, prenatal vitamins, twenty four pack of bottled water, basket of fresh fruit, loaf of bread, granola bars, box of Ritz crackers…enough food and water that they could lock her in there for days at a time. The room smelled faintly of bleach, though it was not overpowering.

Fully dressed, she bundled the used clothing and passed it back out to Regina, but now that she was facing the reality of what she had gotten herself in to she began to feel scared. They were intended to leave her in here until they were ready to use her. It might be days of solitary confinement before she saw anyone…

"This was Dixon's cell," Negan said cruelly, coming into the cell with her. "It's where they dumped Laura's body after Carrie murdered her."

Lana said nothing at this, knowing it would only antagonise him. Up close the injuries to his face were even clearer to the eye, but now she wasn't laughing.

"If we'd known you'd end up in here, we wouldn't have cleaned it."

Having made his parting shots Negan leant down and kissed her on the cheek, whispering an unkind _Goodbye Sweetheart_ before stepping out of the cell and slamming it shut. She was engulfed in darkness as the locks turned, clicking loudly as those outside began to leave. When their footsteps faded there was silence, and a few minutes passed as she waited apprehensively. She'd heard what they had done to torture Daryl, the playing of loud music was frequently used to break the Sanctuary's prisoners, but when nothing happened she tried to relax. For now the silence was peaceful and made her feel safe, but she got the feeling that in time it would become unbearable.

Knowing she had literally set herself up for exactly this, Lana set about preparing for her long stay. She fumbled through the dark to find the lantern, and she turned it on before taking the largest blanket and shaking it out. It took some work, but she spread it across the floor and set all of the supplies on top of it, including the mattress. One of the other blankets she used wrap around the mattress, making it warmer and ensuring she didn't have to look at the suspicious stains it bore. Fixing the blankets and pillows she made herself a comfortable bed and then took one bottle of water from the box, quenching her thirst and then turning to the bucket.

Lowering her sweats she crouched over the bucket, but she held her bladder a little longer. She had been right to feel paranoid, the little package she had concealed inside her body slipping out almost immediately. It fell into the bottom of the bucket with a soft thud, and she hastened to remove the bubble wrap to reveal the set of keys she had swiped from Daryl's nightstand. Grateful that part of her plan was over she slipped the keys underneath the mattress, hiding them from any surprise visitors, and then she began to settle in.

Climbing into the bed she pulled the many blankets over herself, trying to acclimate her body to the cold interior of the cell. One of the blankets was a faux mink, the fabric soft and warm against her, and it reminded her of the one she had in childhood. She and her younger sister Mia had received them for Christmas, hers with a tiger on it and Mia's with dolphins, but by the time Boxing Day came around the sisters had negotiated a trade. Lana's tiger blanket and her Dentist Barbie for Mia's dolphin blanket…best trade she had ever made.

Without warning she felt herself starting to choke up, suddenly overwhelmed by the consequences of her choices. It didn't matter how many years she'd been in America, part of Vetor's or part of Alexandria, she always felt like an outsider. In a moment of painful anguish she longed to be back at home, to be able to crawl into her parents bed and have them comfort her. She was only twenty three years old, her youth always serving to undermine her confidence, to make her feel inadequate against so many people who seemed to have their shit together.

When the outbreak began she was only a few months shy of her twentieth birthday, still a teenager. Now she was a prisoner of war, set to become a mum in a few months time…she wasn't sure she was ready for any of what she had gotten herself into.

* * *

A/N Hope you enjoyed Lana getting to have her say, and her attempt on Negan's life! Her plan is in motion, she's just gotta wait it out now.

Next chapter we check in again with Lana, but also with Carrie and the kids back at Oceanside. Anything in particular from Carrie that you want to read?


	71. Chapter 71

Sunday, April 6

On repeat Carrie was moving back and forth, walking the same five steps she had been for the last few days. She was going to wear a hole in the carpet the way she was going, but she couldn't stop, she absolutely couldn't stop. In her hands she cradled Calvin in the only position he was willing to tolerate, one hand on his diaper and the other behind his neck. He wouldn't snuggle against her chest, wouldn't lay in her lap or in his crib, in the stroller or the rocker or the swing…but apparently held out at arm's length was perfection.

It shouldn't be this hard…why was it so hard?

She was completely overwhelmed by him, her normally content baby boy crying without reason, struggling to sleep and always needing to be held. It had been like this for days now, and every time she thought they had to have reached the end of it he only continued. She couldn't figure out what was wrong with him, whether it was hunger, wind, or pain in. For two days he hadn't slept for more than twenty minutes at a time, and so neither had she. It was a constant cycle, and there was no end in sight.

Twisting her head around she looked at her wristwatch, noting that Judith should have been back from daycare an hour ago. Enid was tasked with picking her up every afternoon but neither of them had retuned, and honestly Carrie was relieved. Judith too had been in a perpetually bad mood, having picked up on Carrie's stress and beginning to share her anxieties. While normally she would play and amuse herself she now craved constant attention and company, but Carrie just couldn't give that to her. Now that Carl had gone to Alexandria it was as if it had finally clicked that her attention was divided, that Judith no longer had the rapt attention of whoever she wanted. She had become needy and clingy, no longer patiently waiting for Carrie to finish up with her brother and instead pitching fits and tantrums, knowing that Carrie would just give in with little resistance.

Her arms were killing her, forcing her to bring Calvin closer and hold him against her chest, but the moment she tried to readjust him he started to cry. It was no longer the cute squeaks he made a week ago, but an angry, discontented protest. Nevertheless she persisted, picking up the pace of her steps, bouncing him and rubbing his back, and slowly he started to quieten. But still he was not content. Any time her pace slowed he fussed again, opening his mouth in a wide howl that was all too familiar.

Some time passed in relative quiet, her body aching with exhaustion, eyelids beginning to droop even as she kept going, kept walking, kept bouncing. But the peace came to an end as it always did, and Calvin let out another low whine that grew into a cry. It felt like he was calling out to her for help, begging her…but she didn't know what for. Trying something else she sank onto the couch, hands feeling like lead as she readjusted the cushions and got comfortable. All the while he continued to cry, writhing in her lap, his beautiful face flushed red and screwed up. _Do something. Why won't you help me?_

It was the only solution she could think of, and so she brought him back to her breast and coaxed him to start feeding. After another minute of spluttered cries he finally started to nurse, and the silence was such a relief she could have cried too. Checking that he was warm and comfortable she stroked his scalp with her fingertips, knowing that he liked it, that it comforted him. For as long as she could manage she watched him, unable to wrap her head around what was going on. Why was he so unhappy? Why was she doing such a terrible job?

Putting her head back she closed her eyes, taking the opportunity to just lay there and do nothing. Ten beautiful minutes passed before she felt him beginning to slow down, and when she opened her eyes she realised he had fallen asleep, not that it would last. She let him be, allowing him to lay there with a mouthful of boob, because at least with his mouth full he couldn't cry. He would finally sleep now…finally they could both sleep.

How wrong she was.

It felt like a split second later that she was awoken. He had let go of her, whining even as she tried to coax him to nurse again. Going through the motions she turned him over and tried the other breast, readjusting the way he was laying. She checked his diaper, made sure he wasn't too hot, that the tag on his shirt wasn't scratching him…but still he wouldn't settle.

Giving up, she consciously felt the moment where her mind and body switched over to autopilot, something she'd been doing a lot lately. Without conscious decision to do so she was getting back to her feet, pacing the living room and wearing a hole in the carpet. Her mind was turned off, she was just _doing_ , not thinking. Calvin lay against her shoulder as she bounced him, still grumbling unhappily, disappointed with the mother who just didn't understand.

It had been a long time since she felt her mind switch off and her body go into autopilot, something she used to do in the months that preceding Rick's group picking her up. She had been covered in Walker guts, wandering the woods completely and hopelessly lost. Her body was surviving, but her mind wasn't living. It felt like that again, that her mind had switched off but somehow her body was still going, still changing another diaper, breastfeeding, rocking Calvin to sleep or holding him as he cried. She couldn't keep going, she couldn't keep this up for much longer…but she was still going.

When she left her cabin she knew what she was doing, even though she'd spent days and weeks resisting this very thing. But she wasn't thinking about any of that, she just draped a blanket over Calvin and then left, not caring that she was barefoot and he was howling. It was a mere ten paces down the path and around the strawberry patch to reach Maggie's cabin, and the door opened before she could even raise her hand to knock.

Having no doubt heard her approach Maggie met her at the door, and on her hip she held Herschel, her baby always happy and content unlike Carrie's. For days now Maggie had been trying to help, doing things like taking out the dirty diapers and helping with Judith, but Carrie had refused to let her do any more than that. It was stupid, she knew it was, but it felt like she couldn't ask Maggie for anything. How could she ask for help from another mom who was equally alone, but whose situation was permanent? Carrie could long for Rick's return, but Maggie was never going go to get Glenn back again, not ever.

"Mag," she began, her voice raspy with exhaustion and defeat. "I just need him to stop."

Understanding, Maggie quickly nodded. "I'll be just one minute," she assured her, moving Herschel to her other hip. "One minute, and then I'm all yours."

She couldn't even say thank you. Herschel spluttered cheerfully, his chin shining with saliva as he chewed on a red teething ring, but he was gone in an instant when Maggie swept him back inside, calling out for Enid to take over. Carrie could hear Judith inside, reaffirming her thought that Enid was trying to give her some time off, an effort she appreciated. Not waiting she turned and made her way back to her own cabin, still rhythmically bouncing Calvin and rubbing his back, her last ditch effort to get it right. She felt like shit for doing this, still convinced that she was asking too much of someone who had lost almost everything.

When Maggie arrived she let herself in, not needing to knock. "I'm here," she announced, her southern accent as sweet and comforting as Rick's was. "What can I do?"

Without preamble she passed Calvin over, ashamed by what a relief it was to offload him to someone else. "Just…" she started, trailing off when her next words were _fix him_. "I don't know what he wants."

Taking him she cradled him in her hands and held him upright, completely at ease. "That's right young man," Maggie cooed, unconcerned by his loud cries. "You cry at me for a while. Yes, I know. I know I'm not your momma, but I'll have to do for now. Does he have a pacifier?"

Carrie nodded, taking a clean one from the kitchen counter and passing it over. "He won't take it," she said, watching as Maggie tried anyway. She managed to slip it into his mouth, and though he quietened a few moments as he started to suck he quickly spluttered unhappily, letting it fall away as she knew he would. She started to feel physically sick as she watched him cry, real tears forming in his eyes. He was crying out for her, begging her to make it all better, and it felt like he was asking why she had abandoned him. Why was she doing this to her own baby? Why was she being so cruel?

"Has he pooped and peed today?"

She nodded. "Just like normal."

"And wha-"

"He just won't sleep," she cut her off, needing to get it all out. "He's tired, but he won't sleep."

"At all?"

 _Not ever_ , was the first thought that came to mind. "Twenty minutes at a time. That's all."

Bringing him to her shoulder Maggie cradled him there, stepping forward and back one single step as she bounced him. All the while she was whispering to him, pressing kisses to the top of his head. "I know, I know…" She glanced at Carrie, and though she was sympathetic she wasn't pitying her. "Can I give him a bottle?"

She wanted to say no, to insist that she had just tried feeding him and he didn't want it, but before she could think twice she was putting a bottle of breastmilk in the electric warmer. As they waited Maggie persisted as Calvin continued to whimper, lifting and turning his head as if looking for his mom, and all the while Carrie could only watch. Guilt was growing inside her, more deeply rooted than she had been prepared for. She should be stronger, she shouldn't be letting someone else comfort him when it was her he was crying out for.

When the timer went off she tested the temperature of the milk on the inside of her wrist, unsure if it was ready or not. She hadn't given him a bottle herself, only Carl and Rick had so far. How warm was it supposed to be?

"Is this okay?" she asked as she passed over the bottle, feeling like it was something she should just know.

"Squirt some here," Maggie requested, offering her own wrist to evaluate. Appearing satisfied she lowered Calvin into the crook of her arm and took the bottle. "Let's see what he thinks."

Just as she expected him to Calvin started to howl as Maggie brought the bottle to his mouth, squeezing a little milk onto his lower lip to encourage him to take it. But as if he knew it wasn't his mother he stoutly refused to take it, his arms and legs flailing like she had never seen before. Maggie persisted, settling back into the couch and bundling him up with a blanket, yet all the while he cried. Carrie too felt herself edging closer and closer to losing it, teetering back and forth between breaking down to kicking Maggie out, castigating her for thinking that she could do anything for a baby that was not her own.

Calvin spluttered, mouth wide open and lips wobbling as he arched his back, but without warning…silence. His little body became still and relaxed as he finally accepted the bottle, and though he simply held it in his mouth for a few moments he soon began to suck. Maggie let out a heavy sigh, relaxing her shoulders as she murmured a few soft words to him. Carrie on the other hand didn't know if she should jump for joy or cry in despair…he might be quiet now, but it wasn't going to last. It never did.

"It's going to be okay," Maggie crooned. "You'll make it."

She was looking at Calvin as she said this, but Carrie got the feeling the words were meant for her, not him. Shellshocked as if she'd been through something traumatic she simply stood there and watched, unsure of what to do now that she was displaced. Calvin didn't need her right now, he was going to be okay for a little while…so where did that leave her?

"If you need to get some fresh air I don't mind," Maggie suggested, looking up at her. "Get some sunlight."

While she appreciated the offer, Carrie shook her head before looking around. "I'm okay here," she murmured, gravitating towards the small table and chairs.

She sank down into a chair, her body feeling weary and sore, her head fuzzy with exhaustion. To her relief Maggie didn't push the matter, didn't attempt to force her to get some sleep or head out, for she must understand the need to stay close. The idea of leaving Calvin was completely foreign to her, reminding her of the last morning they'd spent at the Kingdom. Rick had taken him out when he went to get breakfast, insisting that she stay in bed. She let him go because she felt like she had to, not wanting him to think that she didn't trust him with their child, but it had been impossible to go back to sleep. Getting out of bed she watched through the window as they walked towards the cafeteria, and the moment they left her sight she counted the minutes until they returned, feeling empty without her baby by her side.

Minutes passed as Calvin drank from the bottle, Maggie talking to him softly every now and then, while Carrie simply sat there and watched every moment. She felt restless, still resisting the urge to take him back and do it all herself, but she couldn't disturb him. As if there was something she had forgotten to do she started looking around, mentally checking off her responsibilities. Calvin was right here, Judith was safe with Enid, they had food to eat for dinner…there was nothing she needed to do, nothing she had forgotten. So why did she feel so anxious? Why couldn't she relax?

"Uh, uh, uh," Maggie murmured, reaching under Calvin's blanket. "Not yet."

"What's wrong?"

"He's falling asleep," she answered, tickling his feet to rouse him. "But he's not even had an ounce."

Barely making a peep of protest Calvin opened his eyes again and resumed sucking, the milk sloshing a little. A few minutes later he began to falter again, but just like before Maggie roused him, lifting him up and moving him onto his other side to keep him alert.

"We went through this with Herschel," Maggie explained gently. "He'd get so tired he couldn't eat, but he'd wake up because he was so hungry."

"Is that what I'm doing wrong?" Carrie asked, her voice wavering. "He's too hungry to sleep?

"You're not doing anything wrong," Maggie said firmly, looking up at her. "He's figuring this out just as much as you are."

Carrie gave a bitter laugh, not quite agreeing. Everything had started out so well, but one by one Rick and Carl had left, and she found herself alone. What the hell were they thinking leaving her alone with a baby? She had no idea what she was doing. Carl at least had experience with his sister, and Rick had been through this twice before, but Carrie felt completely… _inadequate_.

"In a few months you'll be doing this for Lana and her baby. You'll come over, help her, encourage her…tell her she's not a failure," she added, making a point of this last remark. "You'll tell her everything's going to be okay, because by then you'll have seen for yourself that it will be."

This comment was meant to encourage her, and perhaps later she'd dwell on it and feel a little better. But as for right now she just didn't have the brain capacity to think about it that hard, to imagine a time in the future when she was the knowledgeable one, when she was helping someone else. For now she watched Calvin a little longer. He was halfway through the bottle and wide awake, but most importantly he seemed content.

"I think maybe I'll get some fresh air," she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

For a few moments more she stayed where she was, part of her expecting Maggie to change her mind, _hoping_ she would. But she didn't, and Calvin continued happily drinking from the bottle, not the slightest bit concerned about where his mother went. Managing to convince herself she slowly rose from the table and went into the bedroom, taking the opportunity to put on a clean shirt and bra. In the bathroom she freshened up and washed her face, but made a point of not looking in the mirror - she didn't want to see what she looked like today.

"There's more milk in the mini fridge," she said, giving Maggie one last opportunity to make her stay, to let her off the hook. She both wanted to go and wanted to stay…she needed someone to tell her what to do. "But I…I won't be far."

"We'll be okay here," Maggie insisted, giving a short nod of the head. "Get some sun. Take a book if you like."

Taking the suggestion she picked up a book she had been trying to read and took it with her, collecting the baby monitor too. She delayed as long as she could, coming over and checking on Calvin, watching the way the milk moved in the bottle with his powerful sucks. His expression and hands were relaxed so she knew he was happy, that finally something was right, but that didn't make leaving him any easier. He was so small and precious, so easily taken from her.

When she stepped outside and closed the door she stood on the porch and listened, flicking the switches on the baby monitor as if it might not be working. But no sound came from within the cabin, no sound came over the monitor…there was no reason for her to stay. Still she lingered a little longer, turning to the world outside and staring as if she'd never seen it before. It felt momentous to cross the porch and step out into the sunshine, reminding her that she hadn't been out in days. It was a stark reminder again of Carl's absence, for he was the one who usually suggested they all go out together, insisting that she and Calvin go to the beach or watch Judith at the playground. Had Rick told him to do that? Had Rick told him to make sure she got out of the house instead of becoming a recluse?

There were people out and about right now, and needing privacy she hastily made her way around to the back of the cabin, not wanting to sit on the front porch. Her cabin backed onto the woods, but she was confident of safety here, even without a weapon. The Walkers never made it close to camp, always thwarted by the deterrents or spikes, pits and wire traps. She sat down in the soft dirt below her bedroom window, having purposefully left it ajar so that she could listen to the sounds from inside as if the baby monitor wouldn't pick them up.

Sitting there with her knees pulled up to her chest she closed her eyes, trying to relish the warmth of the sun on her face. The weather had taken a good turn lately, but this was the first she had felt it in days, not that she managed to enjoy it. She felt herself welling up with emotion, and unable to hold it back any longer she allowed herself to cry, but she made a point of staying quiet. It felt like she was not herself anymore, that she was lost and alone yet the only person who could make it better was Calvin. Everyone had told her she'd be overwhelmed with love and joy, that she'd be tired and frustrated, but in hindsight she really had no idea what was coming.

She felt so tired of everything, filled with the kind of guilt and fear that were beyond anything she could have prepared for. All she wanted was for Rick to come home, to fix everything, yet at the same time she wanted him to stay far away so he never had to know how poorly she was caring for their son.

It was a few minutes before she started to feel a little better, her wet cheeks drying as the sun and fresh air helped. Putting her head back against the cabin she basked in the world outside, breathing in the smell of the woods. But as usual this moment of peace was only fleeting, for the baby monitor buzzed with the sound of a cry, one that drifted straight out the window towards her. She recognised this cry, somehow knowing that Maggie must have stopped to wind him, but he was protesting. He never wanted to stop nursing to be winded, even though if he didn't get all the air out of his tummy he would suffer for it later.

Listening to his cries Carrie tried her best to disconnect, to ignore the urge to go rushing in there. It felt like Maggie couldn't possibly know what to do for her baby, that no one but her could possibly help him. To her frustration the sound of his crying initiated a let down, and a minute later her bra was sticky with breast milk. She laughed in frustration as it soaked through to her shirt, leaving two distinct wet patches on her front. This was the third bra and shirt she had gone through today, each of them soiled by milk, spit up, poop or pee…or combinations of the four. When the outbreak began never in a million years would she have envisioned herself sitting here right now, her crying newborn the biggest problem she faced.

"Woah, lady," someone said in astonishment. "What's wrong with you?"

Her cheeks reddening in embarrassment, Carrie looked up to her left to find Rachel standing there at the edge of the cabin. The young girl was staring down at her in confusion, head tilted to the side and her lips parted. Her cheeks reddened even more when she realised that her shirt had ridden up, exposing her belly that was now scarred skin pulled over a swollen bulge. It didn't matter that it was an innocent comment from an eleven year old, one who was just trying to understand something she might not have seen before, the comment hurt. For the love of God, her baby was only three weeks old.

"I just had a baby," she said tersely. She pulled her shirt down and then crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide the wet patches.

"Oh, yeah," Rachel frowned, continuing to gawk before suddenly realising she was being rude. "Umm…does it take a long time to go away?"

"Yes," she answered shortly, looking at the baby monitor. It was silent now, Calvin happily feeding again. "Aren't you supposed to be at school?"

Rachel frowned. "It's Sunday. There's no school today."

This revelation did not come as a surprise, for she honestly had no sense of time anymore. All she knew was how long it had been since Calvin pooped or ate. It was no small wonder she didn't know what day of the week it was.

When she sat down beside her Carrie couldn't help but feel a little taken aback, unkindly wondering when she had offered that invitation. But she didn't say anything, simply watching as Rachel took off her Elmo backpack and settled it into her lap. When she opened it she took a quick peek inside, suspecting that she had been trying to sneak away on one of the solo walks she was frequently grounded for.

"What's your book about?" Rachel asked, gesturing to her lap.

Carrie shrugged. She had been trying to read this book for a week now, but she couldn't make it past the first few pages. Every time she picked it up she had to reacquaint herself with what happened in the opening scenes, and then something inevitably distracted her. Lowering her hands from shielding the front of her shirt she passed the book over and allowed Rachel to read the blurb.

"Cool," she murmured, passing it back before rifling through her back pack again. "I'm reading this," she said, passing over the Princess Diaries, Party Princess. "Genovia's not a real country, is it."

"No, it's just fictional."

"Have you seen the movie?"

She nodded, remembering it fondly. Going to see the Princess Diaries had just been one part of a friends' Bachelorette party that lasted an entire weekend.

"I liked Palo," Rachel commented, returning the book to her bag. She rifled around inside again before taking out two suckers, holding them out in the palm of her hand. "Want one?"

Carrie looked at her, touched by the offer. Things like candy were strictly rationed at Oceanside, Judith's birthday cake having been a rare treat that everyone got to enjoy. "Thanks. Which one do you want?"

Choosing, Rachel took the blue one for herself and gave Carrie the pink. "This one makes my mouth turn blue," she said, eagerly opening the wrapper. "Wanna see?"

"Sure."

As Rachel put the sucker in her mouth Carrie did the same, relishing the sugary sweetness and the way the candy bumped against her teeth. Though everyone made sure she had adequate food and healthy meals to eat, treats other than her lactation cookies had been sorely lacking, allowing her to forget how good it was.

"See? Rachel said eagerly, opening her mouth and poking her tongue out. "It's blue."

Playing along, Carrie smiled and nodded her head. "Your lips are blue too. Make sure you brush your teeth tonight."

"Yeah, yeah. Show me yours," she requested, frowning in disappointment when she did. "Your tongue just looks normal. Next time you have the blue one."

"I will. Thanks Rachel."

Trying not to dwell on how strange it was for her to be sitting out the back of her cabin making conversation with an eleven year old, Carrie put her head back and twirled the sucker around in her mouth. Beside her the baby monitor continued to remain silent, the lights flashing only when Maggie cleared her throat, but otherwise all was well. As the minutes passed by she started to feel a little more at peace, but still lingering in the back of her mind was the notion that she had forgotten to do something important, that she needed to be in there with Calvin.

"Did it hurt when the baby came out?"

Not bothered by the inquisitive question, Carrie nodded her head. "It hurt a lot," she said gently. Yet even as she gave this answer, the memory of labour and giving birth felt like it was just a bad dream. She knew it had been excruciating, that there were times that she felt like she was going to die because the pain would never end…but it also felt like it had happened to someone else, that she was only an observer to the event. Perhaps that was a biological imperative that she feel this way about giving birth. If it was remembered in as vivid detail as experienced, would any woman ever have a second baby?

"You know, I know how to change diapers if you want me to do some," Rachel said nonchalantly. "Only pee ones though."

Carrie smiled, touched by the mere offer. "That would be nice," she said, though she wasn't holding her breath for an eleven year old to follow through on that. "Thanks Rachel."

"That's okay." Without anything further she got back to her feet, brushing the dirt off the back of her jeans before putting her back pack on. "See yah."

Watching her go, Carrie tried to wrap her head around the entire encounter. In over two weeks of her being here Rachel had never once even acknowledged her presence, let alone spoken two words to her. Carl had commented that she was being a brat to almost everyone, that it had taken her a long while to warm up to the kids from Alexandria, the Kingdom and the Hilltop. Perhaps she was finally settling back in after the enormous upheaval of the Saviours entering their lives again.

Twenty minutes passed as she sat there in solitude, continuing to twirl the sucker around in her mouth. Her mind was completely blank, not thinking about a single thing. When there was nothing more than a plastic stick left Carrie slipped it into her pocket and then opened her book, making yet another attempt to get past the first few pages. On the ground beside her the baby monitor was silent but for the occasional sound.

As the minutes passed she felt herself nodding off to sleep, and though she tried to fight it she eventually succumbed. Giving up on forcibly rousing herself the last thing she remembered was the book falling slack in her hands, her head resting back against the cabin as sweet relief took her. After what felt like an eternity of stress and exhaustion she was finally relaxed, a weight lifted off her shoulders as she drifted off to sleep, and for once it lasted. When she slowly roused she felt like she'd been asleep for a month, her head heavy and thoughts muted, and so it took a long time for her to really wake.

The air had turned cool now, but she was nice and warm. Draped over her body was a heavy blanket, and sitting in camping chairs just a few yards away were Barbara and Anna, the two of them drinking a glass of wine and talking quietly. On the ground between them were two rifles, the kind that neither of them would have even considered carrying a year ago. For a few minutes Carrie simply sat there watching them, the baby monitor next to her buzzing with white noise and dim conversation that told her that everything was okay.

Her stomach was cramping, her breasts heavy and sore for it must have been hours since Calvin nursed, and so she soon rose to her feet and bundled up the blanket. The sound of her movement roused the attention of Barbara and Anna who turned to her with kind smiles, both of them having been in her position before.

"We thought we'd keep watch for you," Anna said. "We were going to wake you in a little while."

"Can we tempt you with a little glass?" Barbara offered, gesturing to the bottle in the cooler.

Carrie shook her head, brushing leaves off the blanket as she folded it. After nine months of joking that she'd down an entire bottle of Chardonnay after the baby was born, in reality it was the last thing on her mind. "Where did the blanket come from?"

"Just leave it here," Anna offered. "We'll put it back for you."

Doing as she said Carrie set it down on the ground, thanking them quietly for keeping watch over her. Feeling dazed from her much needed rest she left she slowly made her way back around to the front of the cabin and crossed the porch, looking around at the rest of the camping ground as she went. People were still out and about, the solar lights beginning to illuminate as the sky darkened, but still she struggled to register that she had slept, that time had passed. She hastened inside now, needing to be back with Calvin again, feeling guilty that she had left him in the first place.

Maggie's name was on the tip of her tongue when she entered, but she fell silent as she took in the scene before her. The small beach cabin was filled with the warmth of not only the fireplace, but the family who occupied it. Judith was sitting at the table with Enid, already wearing her pyjamas as she feasted on a bowl of raisins, eating them one by one like she always does. When she looked up and saw Carrie she smiled, sweetly saying hello before she resumed eating. She was wearing her fleece robes and slippers, her hair combed and braided the way she wore it to bed.

Laying on a blanket in the living room was Calvin, spending some time on his front as he lifted his head and turned, looking around as far as his eyes could see. He was wearing a different onesie than before, and unlike then he was peaceful and content. To his left was Herschel, the seven month old having pushed up onto his hands and knees, rocking back and forth with a cheery shriek of laughter. Drool was running down his chin, his happy smile showcasing his two bottom teeth. Judging by the way he rocked back and forth he wanted to crawl and move around, but he just couldn't yet translate his desire into action.

As Enid welcomed her home Carrie replied in turn, feeling a little lost and confused as she closed the door behind herself. In the kitchen Maggie was stacking used dinnerware into the corner to be washed, overseeing a pot of pasta cooking on the stove.

"How'd you sleep" she asked warmly, giving her an unassuming smile.

"Good, I think," she replied, not really knowing what else to say.

A moment later Maggie was pressing a glass of water into her hands, the gesture making her realise that she was parched. Drinking gratefully she continued to watch as Maggie bustled around, and she frequently looked back into the living room where Calvin lay. He was resting his head on the blanket now, blowing little bubbles of spit before getting another burst of energy to lift his head again. She watched proudly, admiring the way he squirmed and wriggled until he got both arms underneath himself.

"He drank almost five ounces and then was out," Maggie began, updating her. "He woke up not long ago."

Carrie sighed. Of course he slept for other people. She glanced at the clock and noted the time, surprised to find they had both slept for a little over two hours, their longest stretch in days. Still her body was tired, a heavy weight resting on her chest, but somehow she also felt refreshed. Perhaps it was mentally refreshed rather than physically…she really had needed that break.

"Thanks for this Maggie," she murmured, feeling foolish for having not reached out to her earlier.

"I was thinking we'd stay the night," Maggie said lightly, trying not to make a big deal of it. "Enid can sleep in the other room with Judy, keep her company when she wakes up. I could bring Herschel's crib, you and I can share the main bed."

"That'd be nice," she agreed, her throat tightening as she welled up with emotion. She dreaded the thought of enduring another night alone, the hours that felt endless. "Kind of like a sleep over."

Maggie smiled, turning off the burner and then draining the water from the pasta. "It won't be like this forever. It will get easier, I promise."

The moment should have been one of mutual understanding, a new mom offering support and reassurance to another, but it passed quickly. As if this was the very moment he had been waiting for Calvin began to cry, spluttering at first before letting out a deep wail. It was the familiar cry of _hold me, comfort me, feed me_ , and it wasn't something she could ever deny him, even if it was right as Maggie was serving dinner.

"I can get him if you want," Enid said quickly, half rising from her chair.

Carrie shook her head, waving her down. "I have to feed him anyway," she said, setting aside her glass of water and returning to the living room. His cries ceased when he heard the sound of her voice, but only for a brief moment. "I think my boobs are about to burst."

Without warning Enid suddenly gave a shout of laughter, covering her mouth as she chuckled. "Remember when…" she started, her cheeks turning pink with mirth as she laughed again. "Maggie, remember that time at home?"

"I remember," Maggie laughed, though hers was more subdued. "Glenn," she said simply, her tone softening. "He caught a face full of breast milk when he was standing clear across the room."

Enid laughed again, collecting the empty bowls from the table now that Judith was finished. "And remember the other time? When he got poop _in_ his mouth?"

"Ewww," Carrie cringed, her stomach turning in revulsion. "How did that happen."

As Enid began to explain Carrie lay down on the couch, bundling Calvin up with her and opening her shirt. Though she smiled and listened to the story she avoided looking at Maggie, not having it in her to see her pain…she just didn't have enough capacity to carry that grief right now. Thankfully Calvin cut her a break and latched on quickly, getting it right the first time and settling in to nurse. A few minutes later Maggie joined her on the couch, helping her balance a bowl of pasta so that she didn't have to delay eating. Now the mood sobered as it tended to do, the former mirth replaced with sombre thought.

In the small bathroom Judith was protesting, refusing Enid's encouragement to brush her teeth. In another world she might have let it go for that night, one missed brushing wouldn't hurt, but these days they had to be fastidious. They couldn't take her down to the local dentist for a filling if sugar rotted her teeth, or a jaw full of implants if she took a hockey stick to the face like Carrie had. Having endured the nightly routine Judith finished up as quickly as she could, prying herself away from Enid and then hastened to join Carrie on the couch.

Looking a little annoyed that Calvin was occupying prime space, Judith quickly settled in down beside her and cuddled up, and her heart warmed when she reached out and patted his feet. While at first she had taken well to him, without Carl around to give her his time and attention she had started getting annoyed with her little brother, perhaps resenting the time Carrie had to spend with him.

Calvin seemed much happier at the moment, but like before he was drifting of to sleep having nursed for barely ten minutes. Taking Maggie's advice she tried to rouse him, surprised by how difficult that was, but his eyes fluttered open after a particularly persistent jostle. He blinked rapidly before he started sucking again, his sweet expression looking startled as if he just realised what he was supposed to be doing. Comfortable and content, Carrie looked at Maggie who sat by her feet. She had Herschel on her lap, wiping his chin clean as he beamed up at her, always such a happy baby. He had no idea of what he would be missing out on for his entire life, had no idea of the pain his mom was going through…all because of the Negan.

This latter thought made her visibly tense up, but not wanting Maggie to ask about it she quickly cleared her throat, pretending to cough a little. She'd been trying not to, preferring not to drive herself crazy by thinking about what might be going on back in Washington, but now they were in her head. Against her will she thought back to that night, recalling how she had watched every sickening moment, unable to look away. Her memories of that night were mainly centred around Abraham and Glenn, their deaths so poignant in starting this war, but she remembered Negan too. It was strange to think of him as both the main who had inflicted such cruel brutality, and the man who had helped her that night she got the leg cramp. Never in the middle ground, Negan was always at the extreme end of any situation.

Those gentler moments at the Sanctuary came at the expense of humanising the man who did that to them, making her sometimes question whether there might be redemption for him. But those thoughts were fleeting, and no matter how kind Negan had been at times, and no matter how human he had become in front of her, Carrie knew that it was never going to be enough to repay what he had done to them. She didn't even care about the pain he inflicted on other communities. What he had done to Glenn and Abraham was enough.

Negan had to die, at any cost.

* * *

Monday, April 7

Sitting cross legged at the top of the mattress, Lana was staring at the opposite wall trying to keep her mind occupied. Beneath the mattress where she sits are Fat Joey's keys, first stolen from his clean laundry by Carrie, and now stolen from Daryl's coat by Lana. Today they would serve as only a small part of her plan, but possibly the most crucial. If she didn't get her chance to use those keys it meant the plan had fallen apart before it even started, that Frankie wanted nothing to do with her. But still she clung to hope, for even if Frankie hated her no doubt she hated Negan more.

By now she had lost all sense of time. There was no way to tell what time it was, not even if it was night or day. Any time she fell asleep she had no idea how long it was for, how much time had passed, yet she felt for certain that days had passed by now, possibly even a week. She had been trying to keep herself busy and her mind active, practicing the yoga and pilates she had learned from Carrie, working out by jogging on the spot and walking back and forth about the room. Diagonally across the cell was barely four paces, but they were worthwhile. There were only so many times she could read every line of text on the food and water packages, particularly in the lantern's dim light.

Somehow she was completely exhausted, her body bone tired even though she was doing nothing at all strenuous. She was conscious that she was starting to not do so well, her mind and eyes playing tricks on her, her hopeful thoughts turning dark and sinister at the drop of a hat. How on earth did Daryl manage to survive this? While Carrie had been granted the small kindness of being taken outside three times a day Daryl had been completely confined to his cell, to _this_ cell. The only time it was opened was when they threw a chunk of dog food at him, or when the came in to beat and torture him. But with Lana, no one came in. No one came to the door, no one walked the halls, and she must have spent hours in front of the door with her head on the ground, eyes and ears straining to detect evidence of anyone out there.

It felt like she had been completely abandoned. No one had even come to check she still had enough food and water, and she'd been trying to ration it. Weren't they even the slightest bit concerned about her? She was their prisoner after all. They should be concerned that she was alive, for she was of no use if she was dead. But in the same breath she wondered if they'd forgotten her, she also wondered if everything was over. What if they had all died? Perhaps the Sanctuary had fallen to the Walker herd and everyone had been killed?

No. This she knew had not happened. Eventually the Walkers would have made their way down here, and then the cell that imprisoned her would become the cell that protected her. After that her people would come for her, of that she had no doubt. But even if everything outside the Sanctuary was still going to plan, what had happened to her plan inside the Sanctuary? When was Frankie coming for her?

Getting to her feet she started walking around, stretching her body and moving her limbs. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, to release the pent up energy and feel like she was actually alive, because she felt so alone and isolated. By now she was desperate for anyone to come down here, even Negan. She just needed to see someone, to know for sure that she wasn't completely alone.

As she walked back and forth across the room she put her hand underneath her shirt. She felt the ridges of the scab from her surgery wounds, but it was her lower belly she focused on. Still she didn't look pregnant, she was just over thirteen weeks and the only evidence was the ultrasound and the bouts of nausea. She didn't understand why, but she was longing for the time when her belly would be big and round, when it was something more than a little bloated the way it was now. The thought of feeling it inside her filled her with excitement, even though the prospect of actually becoming a mother hadn't really hit home yet.

She wanted to know as soon as possible if she was having a boy or a girl, for she just needed to feel a little more prepared for what was coming. Secretly she was hoping for a girl, but purely because of the name Daryl had laid claim to the other week, a name he wouldn't let go of. Ned, for fucking Ned Kelly the infamous Australian outlaw. He wasn't just trying to rile her up either, though he was damn good at that - he genuinely wanted to name a son after Ned Kelly, and Lana just couldn't stomach it. If her parents were dead they'd be turning in their grave should their first grandchild be named after a bush ranger.

Keeping her mind on this train of thought, she cast her mind back to that first night at the Kingdom, the first time they'd been able to actually see Carrie and Daryl after their escape. When the round table meeting broke up she and Daryl started walking aimlessly across the Kingdom, and then he asked where she was staying that night. When she said she didn't know he offered his bed for her use, happy to take the couch, and then the debate began. She said she couldn't kick him out of his own bed, that she would take the couch instead, and then he argued that no pregnant woman was taking the couch instead of the bed.

While he stopped outside for a cigarette she went in, and that was when things between them started to hurt. She didn't mind that he and Carrie had shared his room or even that they shared the bed…but when it came to her his preference was to take the couch, not to share with her. It was hard not to take that personally, and even harder not to envy Carrie for the easy companionship she and Daryl seemed to have. When he came in later they settled on sharing the bed, but just like the first and only night they'd spend together they slept entirely on their own side, facing away from one another.

Each night he got to sleep by taking three sleeping pills, practically knocking himself out, and when she had commented in concern he had bluntly told her to mind her own business. He slept like the dead, not moving, not snoring, not even sighing…it made Lana paranoid, and more than once she had crept out of bed and moved around to his side where she could see his face. She held her hand in front of his nose, the short puffs of air the only thing telling her that he was alright, that he hadn't died in his sleep from some unseen ailment.

They had continued sharing a room and sharing a bed, and somehow in the days that followed things became less awkward. Somehow they seemed to find a pace of life that worked for them, and without even thinking about it they found themselves accompanying one another around the Kingdom as they worked on various tasks for the war. When Lana went to lunch he tagged along with her, and when he worked on sorting empty shells and cleaning weapons she pretended she needed help with her own. He seemed not to notice that she was faking ignorance, or perhaps he too was playing along, understanding that they were both trying.

Perhaps the only reassurance that things were okay between them was Carol. Of course it hadn't taken him long to track her down, to find her living only a few miles out of town in a small cottage Ezekiel had made available for her use. At Carol's request for privacy and solitude Daryl hadn't told anyone that he had found her…at least not until he gave in and told Lana. He had found her crying in their room, a private moment in which everything had become too much and she needed to get it out, and when he timidly asked what was wrong she had mentioned Carol's name. She missed Carol desperately, not understanding why after everything she had simply abandoned her family without saying goodbye. And for Lana she had been like a rock, welcoming her into her home when she found the guts to leave Vetor, supporting her when she decided to keep the baby…and she had never been able to repay that kindness.

Carol had been annoyed with him, but only for a few moments. Their reunion was supposed to brief, just a quick stop for Lana to get closure, but they ended up staying for hours, and then came back the next day. It was then that they worked at Carol, telling her about everything that happened and putting the pressure on her to join them in the fight, whether she wanted to or not. The morning that the baby was born they had gone to her cottage, giving her the good news even though they had no information other than the fact that it was born healthy. Daryl had been the one to convince her to come and say goodbye to Carrie before she left for Oceanside, showing her the digital camera on which they had taken Calvin's photo hundreds of times already.

Everyone was going to be furious with Lana for what she had done, for the huge risk she had taken, especially Daryl. She would be understanding, for he had the right to be mad. Even if they weren't really a couple in the traditional sense of the word, it was his baby she was having, and he had become invested in it. But while she dreads eventually having to face Daryl, he wasn't the only one she dreaded. She felt ashamed of herself for going behind Rick's back to do this, that she had deceived him. After everything he had done for her and everything he let slide in the name of loyalty, she had risked her life and their entire plan to fix problems he refused to see…she doubted he would see it that clearly.

Something distracted her, a change in the air that took a minute to register…sound.

Her heart started to pound, her breathing getting heavier as she pulled herself to her feet. She didn't care who it was, it could be Simon or Negan and she'd greet them as an old friend, that's how desperate she was. She stood there facing the door, waiting with bated breath for her fate, but instead of a key in the lock and the door swinging open she was met with only a small knock. If it was at all possible her heart soared even higher, because right now there were only a very few people who would knock on that door.

Rushing to the door she peered through the keyhole into the dark corridor on the other side, struggling to see anything. All she could make out was dark and light, noting that whoever it was had a flashlight with them…it must be night time.

"Who is it?"

Darkness came over the keyhole, but Lana could hear the heavy breathing on the other side, the sound of someone who had been running. Then came that familiar voice, one she hadn't heard in well over a year, though it felt like decades.

"It's me," Frankie whispered into the keyhole. "Lana?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling herself welling up with emotion. All of a sudden that guilt and remorse she had been carrying came back in full force, and for a moment it was too much to bear.

"Hey Frankie," she said, her voice tight as she spoke.

"How do I get you out?" she asked quickly, not messing around with greetings. "Come on, we haven't got much time."

Scrambling back to the mattress she practically overturned it in her haste to get the keys. She was so relieved that it wasn't all for nothing, that her huge risk was paying off and she would be able to fulfil her reason for doing something so impossibly stupid. Her hands were trembling as she laid the keys out flat and slid them underneath the door, fully entrusting her fate into Frankie, a person who had every right to stick a knife in her chest.

The keys promptly disappeared, and there was rusting as one was slipped into the lock. Lana waited excitedly as on the other side Frankie tried more keys, but before she could really collect her thoughts the door swung open. Frankie rushed inside, a tall and imposing figure in the shadows who hastened to close the door, but Lana didn't recoil from her. Even after all this time Frankie looked just as she remembered her, red hair tied back into a pony tail, wearing her preferred combination of jeans and button up shirt.

For that split second it felt like the old days when she'd tease her for not having a soul, and Frankie would mock her accent, but that feeling imploded quickly.

She gasped out loud when Frankie lunged at her, not even having a moment to raise her hands to protect herself. All she saw was a brief glimpse of her face, her eyes narrowed and mouth twisted into a grimace, and then she felt the slap to her face. It was hard, the pain radiating from her cheek across her whole face as her head snapped to the left. She stumbled a few steps, bumping into the cell wall and then beginning to cower, one hand braced against the wall while the other was raised in front of her, ready to defend against the second attack that never came.

For a few horrible moments they stood there frozen, Lana cowering against the wall while Frankie stood over her, panting and heaving for breath. Her face hurt, eyes welling up with tears, but it was nothing in comparison to how her heart felt as she looked up at Frankie, the friend she had left behind that day. When Arat discovered Vetor having sex with her they had to flee the Sanctuary, and Frankie was the only person in their group that they couldn't find in time. They had left her behind, subjecting her to face the consequences of something she hadn't been involved in. As lonely as Lana had felt in that cell, Frankie had felt that a hundred times worse.

Frankie leant forward, jabbing her finger at her. "Don't you dare say you didn't deserve that."

Trembling, Lana brought one hand to clutch the side of her face, her cheek still stinging. "I did," she admitted softly. "I deserved that."

The moment these words left her mouth Frankie lunged again, but this time it was not with malice. Seizing her by the arms she wrenched Lana back to her feet and brought her into a tight embrace, wrapping her arms around her body and holding her close, and it took a few moments for her to respond in kind. She hugged Frankie as hard as she could, beginning to cry in joy. These days a reunion like this was almost unheard of, and the day she left it was with the belief they'd never see each other again, that after everything they'd survived together it was over now.

* * *

A/N Hope you're enjoying still - I just planned out one of the final two chapters over the weekend, I am thrilled with how they're looking right now! Possibly wrapping up the story at chapter 79.


	72. Chapter 72

A/N This chapter has my first ever attempt at a Daryl POV. Not overly happy with it as I really didn't get to explore his character very much, but it was a nice little filler and look into his current state. Hope you enjoy :-)

* * *

She gasped out loud when Frankie lunged at her, not even having a moment to raise her hands to protect herself. All she saw was a brief glimpse of her face, her eyes narrowed and mouth twisted into a grimace, and then she felt the slap to her face. It was hard, the pain radiating from her cheek across her whole face as her head snapped to the left. She stumbled a few steps, bumping into the cell wall and then beginning to cower, one hand braced against the wall while the other was raised in front of her, ready to defend against the second attack that never came.

Frankie leant forward, jabbing her finger at her. "Don't you dare say you didn't deserve that."

Trembling, Lana brought one hand to clutch the side of her face, her cheek still stinging. "I did," she admitted softly. "I deserved that."

The moment these words left her mouth Frankie lunged again, but this time it was not with malice. Seizing her by the arms she wrenched Lana back to her feet and brought her into a tight embrace, wrapping her arms around her body and holding her close, and it took a few moments for her to respond in kind. She hugged Frankie as hard as she could, beginning to cry in joy. These days a reunion like this was almost unheard of, and the day she left it was with the belief they'd never see each other again, that after everything they'd survived together it was over now.

"I'm sorry, I would have been here days ago, but I couldn't get past the guard," Frankie apologised, releasing her. She lingered close, fussing like the mother hen she had always been to their group.

"What's going on out there?"

"A whole lot of standing around with their dicks in their hands. Negan's words," she added. "Not mine."

"They're not doing anything?"

"What can they do? They're scared shitless. We all are."

"Do you think they'll surrender?"

Frankie hesitated. "Someone suggested it yesterday. It didn't go down so well. Did Rick say all of the soldiers have to die? Even Dwight?"

"No," she corrected her. "Only Negan has to die. What day is it?

"Monday," Frankie answered, moving towards the camping lantern so she could see her wristwatch. "Just after five in the morning."

It took a moment to wrap her head around this. Monday? That was…four days. Only four days? It felt like weeks had passed. She didn't have time to really question this however, for quickly Frankie was fussing over her again, removing a backpack and rifling through it. From inside she withdrew a pair of hot pink sneakers and some clothes, passing them to her and hastening her to get changed. These clothes were far warmer than the rags the prisoners wore, and not for the first time she tried not to think about Daryl wearing them, shivering on the concrete floor of his bare cell. She knew what they did to the prisoners down here, how they tortured them with music and beatings, buckets of cold water when they wanted a laugh.

When she was dressed she kicked aside the old clothes and followed Frankie out of the cell, locking it behind herself and taking care to give the keys back to her for safe keeping. In total silence they crept through the eerie basement corridors, their eyes soon adjusting until they didn't have to use their flashlight. Nevertheless they walked hand in hand not just to find their way, but to find that old connection they used to have before Lana abandoned her here to save Vetor's skin.

They ascended the first staircase before they encountered their first problem, Frankie hastily stopping her from coming up. She had peeked around the corner to make sure the coast was clear, and she came back in a flash with a finger pressed against her lips. _Quiet!_ Lana looked at her incredulously, questioning how the guard had returned to their post so quickly. For what felt like the longest time they stood there in the dark shadows together and waited, then through the silence came soft sounds. There was someone up there…shuffling back and forth…panting.

A soft groan echoed through the corridor, soon followed by a murmur. "No, no…please." Silence resumed for the briefest of moments, but the next groan that followed was heavier. "Come on, not again…"

The panting intensified, and by now Frankie's face had turned from worry and nerves to one of unkind amusement. She looked like she was stifling laughter, and Lana felt much the same when the guard gave another heavy moan before rushing down the corridor. As the sound of their hurried footsteps faded she and Frankie crept out of their hiding place, crossing the corridor and ascending the next set of stairs. She was unsurprised to find the Sanctuary was completely deserted. By now most people would have gone to the higher floors, as far away from the Walker herd as possible.

"What did you do to him?"

"A little something extra in the coffee pot," Frankie murmured, giving a sly smile. "Remember that time Vetor got diarrhoea after that huge fight you two had in Tampa?"

She frowned a little. "The fight about Sonya? Yeah, I remember that."

Frankie smirked again. "You're welcome."

If she had been able to she would have given a shout of surprise, unable to believe that Frankie was responsible for Vetor being so sick. From what she remembered of that time this Sanctuary guard was in for a rough few hours in the bathroom. It would have to be a story for another time though, for all too quickly they were walking down the corridor jokingly coined Rape Alley, but it hadn't always been a joke. Thankfully things had changed at the Sanctuary before Lana's group arrived. They never had to live here the way it used to be, not that the new way of life was a complete improvement.

Halfway down they stopped outside a particular door, Lana hesitating for a moment as the reality of her plan started to hit home. She had a huge task to do now…she had to convince someone to see her way of things, without using sex to manipulate them. If she failed the Saviours would only be even more incensed, and more people would die because of it.

When they put the key into the lock and opened the door she felt a moment of heart stopping terror, certain that they'd gotten this wrong, that Frankie was leading her into a trap. But Simon's guest room was empty inside, allowing them to quickly step in and be safe once again. She breathed a huge sigh of relief, taking a moment to be thankful.

"He'll be finished watch in a few hours," Frankie said quietly, still whispering though they didn't have to. "Are you sure about this?"

Lana nodded. "It's the only way. I already tried to kill Negan, I won't get a second chance to do it myself."

"I meant, are you sure about putting Simon in charge?"

This was not a concern to her. "Once Rick is done, Simon won't be in charge of anything." She let a moment pass, allowing the gravity of these words to be understood, and then she continued as if it was just any other day. "You and the others know what to do? The ammunition in the armoury."

"It's already done," Frankie stated proudly. "We locked ourselves in there before Rick even arrived. Just waited until the herd moved in, and then we tossed it all out the windows. We actually had a good time…Negan had mixed feelings about it. We went back to the miniskirts for a few days."

Lana gaped at her, suitably impressed. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "Seriously…and I'm sorry."

They sobered now, and Frankie wasn't joking or playing around when she responded. "You better be."

They didn't need to hash out what Lana had subjected her to, that Frankie had been left with no other choice but to take Lana's place as Negan's wife. But it was to be a conversation for another day, and conscious of the time Frankie hastened to make her departure before anyone noticed she was gone. They hugged before she left, Lana whispering her gratitude to her friend once again, vowing to never forget the loyalty Frankie had shown her after all this time.

When the door closed she turned the lock, keeping herself safe until Simon returned in a few hours. While she didn't anticipate anyone would make the grave error of coming into Simon's room uninvited, you never did quite know what would happen around this place, particularly in these circumstances. Unsure of what to do with herself she turned on the lamp by his bed and took a proper look around the room, crinkling her nose up in distaste. Simon's room was a mess of strewn about clothes and discarded shoes, candy bar wrappers littered the floor, and in the cramped kitchen was a series of used mugs and plates.

It seemed Daryl was rubbing off her, for he was surprisingly neat and tidy, perhaps a habit learned from cohabiting with Carol. She had only been sharing a room with him for a few short weeks, but it seemed that short period of time cleaning up after herself had effect. Without a second thought she started collecting the dirty clothes and tossing them into the linen basket, getting on her hands and knees to collect candy bar wrappers and various pieces of trash. Grateful she didn't find anything too disgusting she made quick work of the task, looking forward to the look on Simon's face when he realised the Sanctuary prisoner had not only escaped, but had tidied his room.

Feeling much more satisfied, for she was the one who was going to be occupying this room for the time being, Lana set about making herself at home. From inside the closet she took one of Simon's flannelette shirts, slipping it on and tucking it in to the jeans she wore. It was warm and comfortable, more so than the plain teeshirt Frankie had given her, and she wondered if seeing her wearing his clothes would help Simon warm to her way of thinking. Men were stupid like that.

Preparing to settle in she turned on the kitchen tap and used Simon's tube of toothpaste to freshen up, her finger a poor substitute for a brush, but she sure as hell wasn't borrowing his. She washed her face and splashed water over her neck, feeling marginally refreshed, though she wouldn't feel one hundred percent until she was home in Alexandria, her skin warming under the heat of a hot shower. The mini fridge was as gross and unkempt as his bedroom, and it was in disgust that she reached past the mouldy food to move the cans of beers aside. At the very back was a can of Mountain Dew, the taste of which she had never quite liked, but it was hers now. She needed something cold and sweet to settle her stomach, a bout of nausea already stirring. For once her morning sickness was actually coming in the morning.

After taking a sip of the sugary drink she settled down into the Lazy Boy armchair, pulling a blanket over her lap before pulling the lever and reclining. For days now she had been doing little other than laying on the uncomfortable mattress and staring up at the ceiling, but for once she was actually warm and comfortable, and she was content to sip her drink and rest her eyes. It wouldn't matter if she fell asleep, Simon wouldn't catch her by surprise, Frankie and the girls would make sure of that. The next few hours until Simon returned for hers to do with as she liked.

Relaxed now she started thinking about Daryl, hoping that he was alright. It had been days since the initial attack, and anything could have happened to him in the time that elapsed. He had been part of the teams going to the outposts, and it wasn't paranoid of her to worry something might have happened to him. If he was alright she wondered if he was outside the Sanctuary, watching the place from one of the many sniper posts they had prepared. She wasn't banking on it, but she hoped he might understand why she had done put her life at risk coming to the Sanctuary, why she was so confident that she would be okay. It was his baby she was having, but that didn't mean he owned her or her decisions.

She did this to save Arat, it wasn't anything Daryl wouldn't have done in her position…and she did this for him too, to do whatever necessary to end this war in their favour.

* * *

The sun was rising over the horizon, the light casting orange and pink beams through the sky and bringing with it a new day. Any other time Daryl might have stopped to admire it, to observe the moment the way he used to as a kid when he'd spent the night out in the woods. Today though there was little he would stop to admire, and the rising sun was no consequence other than the passing of another night and the bringing of daylight.

He could properly see the Sanctuary now, could see the Walker herd that surrounded it for the fourth day in a row. This sight should have brought him hope, he should be relishing in what was happening to those sorry fuckers who were soon to be running out of drinking water. They would start turning on one another, and what had once been a strong facade of comradeship would crumble. Insubordinates would turn into insurgents, and whoever was leading that shit in there would be overthrown. Sooner or later Negan would go down…but there was no doubt in Daryl's mind who he would take down with him.

Lana was in there, the stupid girl trapping herself in the very place he'd been prisoner, the same place in which he wanted to die just to end the fucking misery of it all. She went in with her grand plans, stupid enough to believe she could actually make it happen, that she stood any chance of turning Simon against Negan. Even if she did manage that, what chance did Simon stand against Negan? Those people were mindless followers of their leader, they wouldn't just turn their allegiance to the last man standing. They were like a damn cult with the way they talked, obeying orders without question, stating they were Negan.

At statement Daryl too had made.

His hands were curling into fists, knuckles white with the pressure, and he quickly sought to relax. Rick was sitting right beside him, the two of them at the top of the water tower keeping watch over the Sanctuary. His friend was already worried enough about him, constantly keeping his eye on him, hardly letting him out of his sight. Daryl knew what the problem was, that Rick was just waiting for him to do something stupid like go charging in to the Sanctuary to find Lana. He didn't deny that it had crossed his mind, that more than once he had started sneaking off with a plan in mind only to be noticed at the last minute. Both times he had been stopped Rick hadn't said anything, for perhaps he knew he didn't need to. The moment the determination faltered Daryl saw the stupidity in his plans, the flaws and dangers he would have normally prepared for.

Even if he could come up with a halfway decent plan, it was never going to work. Lana had done this to herself…she wasn't coming out of there alive, he knew it. He should have seen this coming the very day he started to get his hopes up for them, the first night she had spent in his room at the Kingdom. That night as he passed out with the help of three sleeping pills he had a vision of the two of them in the future, walking through Alexandria with a faceless and nameless child walking between them, reaching up to hold their hands. He should have known straight away that something like this would happen. That kind of future was for men like Rick, not him.

In spite of all that, for some reason Daryl was still there at the Sanctuary, waiting for something to happen. He wasn't getting his hopes up that Lana would make it out of there, that they'd ride off into the sunset with her on the back of his bike…but he couldn't leave. There was work for him to be doing elsewhere, he should be at the Hilltop guarding the prisoners they'd taken from the Satellite Station, or guarding the Sanctuary kids at the Kingdom. But for days now he'd made a temporary home at the top of this water tower, kept company by a rotation of companions who were tasked both with keeping watch of the Sanctuary, and keeping watch of him. He grimly wondered if they thought he was suicidal, if they thought he was getting ready to jump. At this he peered over the edge of the platform to the concrete far below…it would over quick.

Though he was actively trying not to think about it, he knew he couldn't leave the Sanctuary for the same reason he never quite left Missy Taylor, even after she kicked his sorry ass to the curb nearly twenty years ago. He couldn't leave Lana here alone because he cared for her, because she was pregnant with his kid…same reason he couldn't leave Missy. At the least he owed it to Lana and the baby to stick around to their end, just like he had for Missy whether she wanted him to or not.

When Missy fell pregnant she immediately kicked him out, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be around, a compromise she willingly accepted. Instead of blowing his cash on trucks and dope he spent it on her instead, getting her a nice apartment and paying her rent, buying her a used car safe enough for the baby. Didn't matter how much crank he and Merle had to peddle, he'd make it happen.

When the kid was born he'd continue sending money when he was flush, determined to make sure his child didn't have to wear shoes wrapped in duct tape, that it got rich people shit like trips to the dentist. He used to think it was a good thing that his old man stuck around for him, specially after his mom died and Merle was gone, but every time he saw those scars on his back or felt the ache of his broken wrist he knew he was doing the right thing by sending money instead of pretending he was someone else. Some men weren't meant to be fathers, and he was one of them.

When he got the call that Missy was in labour he had gone to the hospital immediately, ignoring Merle who laughed and made whipped jokes. But when the doctors told him what happened he just stared at them, not understanding. He'd never heard the term _still birth_ before, it had no meaning to him. But when one slid a brochure across the coffee table and he saw the heading, Grief Counselling, it clicked. The baby was dead…his baby was dead. Nearly two decades later he didn't remember much, but he knew he lunged across the coffee table for that doctor. He would have choked that fucker to death for killing his baby, refusing to hear that it wasn't anyone's fault, that sometimes babies just died. They offered to let him see the baby, told him it was a boy and that Missy had named him Tristan. All he could think was _what the fuck was wrong with these people?_ He didn't want to see no dead baby.

He ended up spending the night in the cop shop, the only place they could send him after attacking a doctor. But they let him go the next morning without charges, the pigs looking at him in pity after the hospital made a call to the station. Merle picked him up, but Daryl never told him the reason he was in for the night, and he never asked. Someone must have told him what happened, for his brother was nicer to him in the weeks that followed than he had been in his entire life. Never once had Daryl brought up what happened with anyone, not Merle, not even Carol or Rick…at least until he told Lana, mentioning it only in passing.

A few years later he saw Missy, the first time since he'd seen her since he last saw her pregnant. Now she was pushing two chubby cheeked baby boys in a shopping cart at Costco, a wedding ring on her left hand. She looked good, her hair done all nice and her snaggle tooth smile still making her look sixteen years old. She saw him too, and in the same aisle they couldn't avoid one another…but they didn't stop to talk.

When they passed they glanced into the other's shopping carts, and while Daryl took stock of the jumbo box of baby food she looked at the plastic tubing and tins of acetone in his. Maybe that's why she didn't stop to talk to him, why she sped up as they both passed one another by, she knew he was still the same guy she didn't want around her baby. Or maybe it was Tristan, the dead baby that haunted them both, even twenty years later.

Now it was Lana he'd gotten pregnant, and though it was entirely different he was still doing the right thing again. This time he planned on sticking around, there would be no use in leaving bundles of cash at her front door, but still it wasn't enough. That life just weren't on the cards for him, and given what Lana had done now he wasn't holding his breath anymore. Men like Rick got what they deserved, they got to have a family with someone. Men like Daryl got what they deserved too.

He didn't know what the hell he'd been thinking, sleeping with Lana of all people, a naive girl almost half his age. Now look at what he'd done to her…he'd gotten her pregnant, and the war that followed had compelled her to risk it all. She was too young to be caught up in any of this shit, too stupid, too naive…too brave. It was like she'd been doing all of this just to tease him, to mess with his head. Now she was just someone else to lose, another son he'll never get to hold. Nevertheless he couldn't completely hold it against her. What she'd done was no different to what he would have done in the same position…any of them would have done it, and they should have seen it coming.

"Simon's done with his shift."

Rick was passing him the binoculars, speaking for the first time the entire night. Glad for something to do he took the binoculars and looked at the Sanctuary himself. He focused the lens just in time to catch the door swinging shut, a new guard slowly making his way towards the edge of the deck where the wives would sun bake in the summers. It was a Saviour he recognised, the prick who took such pleasure from ordering him around the Sanctuary to do various jobs, the worst of which were reserved for him. He couldn't wait to watch that fucker go down.

The Saviours on watch had tried shooting at them in the early hours of the standoff, not caring that they were terrible shots at such a distance. But they behaved themselves real fuckin' quick when Sasha took out three of them in a row, barely breaking a sweat. Since then the two sides had reached a stalemate, allowing the Sanctuary guards to come out and keep watch of the herd so long as they stopped taking shots at them. Rick argued the concession was necessary, that letting them take a good long look at what they were up against was only to their benefit. Either it would encourage them to give Negan up, or they'd form a plan to escape and go to Alexandria where they'd be annihilated. Either way, it was of no detriment to them.

The short snippet of conversation had roused him from the depths of his thoughts, bringing him back to earth, as if there was any real way of escaping it in the first place. Restless now he dug around in his pockets for the beaten up box of cigarettes, noting that he was almost finished with the pack. He'd done alright to ration them this far, especially when he'd been up here at the water tower for the best part of three days. When he lit up he shuffled away from Rick who had so far refused all offers of a drag, going back to his good ways of having quit the habit for good. He'd given them up before Calvin came along, citing pressure from Carrie, but also the fact he didn't want to smell like tobacco around the kids.

No longer foreseeing that future for himself, Daryl didn't give the idea of quitting a second thought. Might as well keep on smoking.

With the cigarette dangling from his lips and the binoculars at his eyes, he scanned the exterior of the Sanctuary. It was reassuring to see all the broken windows, to know how thoroughly they had damaged the Sanctuary's exterior…they'd be freezin' their ass off in there, forced to retreat further inside. Like he often did he looked up to the floor where he knew Negan's quarters were, wondering if he would see him in there. But just like the days prior the coward wasn't showing his face, wasn't coming into the range of their snipers. Looking into his room he watched as the drapes around the windows fluttered, the wind having pulled them out of the windows were they tore on the shards of glass. On the floor lay a leafy green plant, the pot shattered by a bullet and the dirt scattered everywhere. It was surviving for now, but nothing would thrive inside the Sanctuary now that the four opposing communities had their say.

The day after they took out the outposts and made final count of the hostages Rick informed Negan over the radio, confirming what they had achieved. They had the Sanctuary's children and a baby, plus forty hostages as collateral with a few nearby incase they needed an execution to liven things up, but the latter was unlikely. For now Rick wouldn't allow it, but Negan didn't have to know that, and nor did the hostages who hadn't taken long to start begging. The same men who called Daryl a pussy for cooperating to help Carrie were on their knees in the dirt, begging and grovelling, and it was a satisfying sight.

They had spoken to Negan once each day, and every time the conversation went the same. No, they were not standing down. No, they couldn't speak to or see Lana. Yes, she was alive. The only thing that changed day to day was the tongue lashing Rick got, Negan berating and intimidating him into retreating…but that was never going to happen. Every day those pricks stayed in there, the better for the allies. Each day brought the Sanctuary closer and closer to an uprising against their leader, and Daryl could only hope that they turned on his sooner rather than later. Perhaps they would give him a taste of his own medicine with that bat.

Perhaps they'd let Daryl do the honours.

* * *

By the time she roused a few hours later, Lana felt well rested and level headed. It seemed she had nodded off in the comforts of Simon's armchair, kept warm by the handmade blanket he had purchased from the Marketplace. Held loosely in her grip was the half empty can of Mountain Dew, the sweetness having served the purpose of keeping her morning sickness at bay. Carol had told her to drink ginger tea and dry crackers, but all she craved was the sugary sweetness of fizzy drink.

Fully awake now she sat up in the Lazy Boy, drinking the last of the Mountain Dew before folding up the blanket. Frankie hadn't left her a watch, and without a clock in the room the only way she could gauge the time of day was by the sunlight that filtered through the dirty windows. As she waited she walked about the room, taking advantage of the abundant space she had. She rehearsed what she was going to say to Simon, repeating the key points to herself again and again. As an after thought she opened a few buttons on his shirt she was wearing. Months ago she had tried coming on to Rick, at Vetor's encouragement of course, but he'd barely paid her a second glance. Simon on the other hand was easier to manipulate, that she knew.

When she heard voices outside in the corridor she crept over to the door and pressed her ear against it, wondering who it was. Her heart leapt when she recognised one of them, and it took all she had to not jump for joy as she realised it was Amber, genuinely excited to lay eyes on her. Getting ready she dashed back across the room and hastily sat in Simon's armchair, relaxing back and crossing one ankle over the other knee. She wanted him to see her like this, taking his space and making it her own…he'd find it funny, admirable even.

Despite her outward appearance of confidence, on the inside she was ravaged with nerves, trying to reassure herself that she had a response for every argument, that she knew exactly what she needed to get out of this. When a key rattled in the lock she took a deep breath to steady herself squaring her shoulders before Simon opened the door. He stood back and allowed Amber in first, his eyes following her ass as he followed her in, but his brow furrowed when she slipped behind him to hastily close the door.

"Looks like someone's eager to get a start," he drawled, his tone of voice making Lana's skin crawl. But a moment later she got the reaction she was awaiting, for as if drawn by a magnet he turned on the spot and looked directly at her, and she would have sworn he was so shocked his moustache drooped a little. "What the fuck is this?"

Lana gave a non-threatening smile. "Hello Simon."

He turned back to Amber now, advancing on her with a low growl. "Explain this shit to me," he demanded, his tone darkening even more when she didn't appear afraid of him. "Unless this is a threesome, you're both going to be in deep, deep shit with the man upstairs."

Amber quirked her eyebrows. "God?"

"Worse than God. Negan!"

"Simon, why don't you calm down a little," Lana suggested, repeating words he had been known to say on many occasions. "You're starting to sound hysterical."

Simon turned and looked at her incredulously, staring for a long, uncomfortable moment. "What steaming pile of dog shit have you dumped on my doorstep?" he asked again, turning back to Amber.

Ignoring him, Amber looked at Lana as she opened the door. "Nice to see you, Lana."

"You too."

She departed quickly, and as she left Lana was disheartened that she, Frankie and the others had been forced to return to their former arrangement with Negan. Just as Frankie said the skimpy clothing had made a return, and no doubt the sex too, punishment for sabotaging the armoury. Trying not to dwell on Amber and the others for too long she quickly returned her attention to Simon, enjoying the way he seemed so stressed out by the sudden turn of events. No doubt he had brought Amber back here after earning Negan's good graces, his mind set on getting laid a few times before catching a little shut eye.

"Sorry I ruined the booty call."

Looking at her from the corner of his eyes, Simon could only glare. "Say that like you mean it," he said tightly, twisting his head from side to side and then rolling his shoulders back a few times. "Would you do me the courtesy of telling me what the fuck you're doing in my room?"

"I'd like to talk to you."

"So, a threesome's definitely off the table?"

"It was never on the table."

"Oh, now that's not true," he crooned, turning to face her properly as he moved forward. "There was that one time, before you got yourself hitched."

"You misinterpreted that," she said bluntly, not wanting him to get any ideas. "Now, am I just going to keep shooting you down, or shall we talk?"

Still not on board Simon continued to glare at her, not quite knowing how to handle the situation. Even entertaining what she had to say would be considered treasonous against Negan. If he was to do the right thing he'd take her straight back to the cell, station more guards and cuff her hands…but he did nothing of the sort.

"Go on then," he said brusquely, sitting on the end of his bed. He sat with his legs spread as usual, leaning forward with one hand hand on his knee and his head tilted at her. "What do you want?"

"You first. What's your plan?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Simon answered. "Negan says. We do."

This was not a surprise. "And how do you feel about that?"

"Well, my dick's not jumping for joy. But the man knows what he's doing."

"I have a deal for you. A deal from Rick," she added, a blatant lie.

"Why's this the first I'm hearing of it?"

"I had to get the timing right."

"Timing?" he laughed. "Thought you'd wait in that cell four days before making a deal?"

"I had to wait. The deal isn't for Negan. It's not for Dwight, or Regina or Gavin…the deal's for you. Only you."

This piqued his interest, as she knew it would. "Why's that?"

She paused, making sure to get her tone of voice right. "Rick sees a lot of himself in you."

Simon guffawed at this, looking at her incredulously. "What bull dropped that on the barn floor?"

"He wouldn't have asked me to do this if he wasn't serious," she persisted. "He sees you as an actual leader, one who cares about his people. You don't make decisions based on pride or ego. But Negan? Negan's getting people killed."

"You mean like the people your lot killed at our outposts?" Simon argued, angering now. "They're all gone, hundreds dead because of Rick."

"Rick and our people might have killed them, but we didn't get them killed," she replied, using Negan's own words against him. "That was on Negan. How many are gone?"

Simon grit his teeth, and she watched in enjoyment as his hands curled into fists. "They've got forty hostages, plus all the kids. Everyone else is dead," he growled. "Five outposts, gone. We're talking well over two hundred people."

"You say that like you haven't done the same thing before, but worse," she rebuked him. "You don't remember lining up all those men and boys? Shooting them one by one, just to make a point?"

"That was an overreaction," he admitted. "One I paid penance for, as you well know."

Yes, she had been witness to his punishment, to the fact that Arat was locked up three times as long for punching Simon then he was for mass murder.

"You can save who is left. You can be an _actual saviour_ to the people in this place."

Simon appeared to dwell on this, no doubt liking her choice of words. "So, what's this deal?" he asked, trying not to sound too interested.

"We both know that Negan doesn't have a place here anymore. There's no room for him."

"You want me to make him surrender?"

She shook her head. "You know that's not what I'm getting at. You and the big man haven't seen eye to eye for some time now. Especially about Carrie."

At this Simon gave a huff that sounded like agreement. Puffing up his shoulders he took a deep breath, looking for all purposes like a man getting something off his chest. "Never a truer word was spoken."

"What was the problem there?"

Scoffing under his breath Simon got up from the bed and started to pace, frowning as if realising for the first time that she must have tidied his room. He seemed to pay it little attention though, preferring instead to lay bare his grievances.

"Anyone with eyes could see he had a raging hard on for her. He was lovesick for a woman who wouldn't want him in a million years."

"We've all wanted someone we couldn't have."

"Sure we have," he agreed. "But Negan didn't even try to hide it. He let her do whatever the fuck she wanted around this place, and he let her get away scot free when she and Dixon did a runner. Because of her your people got the last word, and that's what led to the fuck-fest outside!"

"You disagreed with him."

"Bet your ass I disagreed with him. But like I said," he continued, softening his tone of voice now. "Negan says, we do."

"How'd you like to change that?" she asked bluntly, not beating around the bush. "You can lead this place better than he can, we all know it. Rick knows it too."

"Oh, Rick knows it?" he asked sarcastically. "Well, in that case sign me up!"

"Be serious."

"I am, but it's clear to me your boy Rick has given this as much thought as I give to my morning shit. He wants me to overthrow Negan?"

"Yes."

"Then let's say I do that. I kill Negan. You think it's just as simple as taking his place? I'd have to get the whole damn Sanctuary on my side," he lectured. "And those people won't take kindly to a political assassination. It puts all kinds of _ideas_ in their heads."

"We're not the only ones who want to see Negan gone," she implored, encouraging him. "The writing is on the wall. We both know he's not long for the job, not after what's happened now. Besides, Rick and the other communities believe in you…Negan."

At this Simon rolled his eyes, not at all endeared by her attempt to butter him up. Perhaps he wasn't as pliable and stupid as she first thought. "And after?" he questioned. "Letting you people have the last word is how we ended up here. You want me to take over the Saviours and then just roll over?"

"It's better than what's coming for you if you stick with Negan. We're not going to let you live, Simon. Not any of you."

"And what's your friend think about this, huh? The one with the curly hair."

"Cyndie? The woman whose family you murdered?"

"Yeah," he nodded, not sounding perturbed by her choice of words. "How would she feel about me taking a promotion?"

"All she wants is Arat, and she's got her. As for after, Cyndie's group will do as they're told."

Simon shook his head again, still unsatisfied. "No. No, what you're really telling me is that I'm not top dog. Rick is. That's unacceptable."

"You and Rick can co-exist," she lied. "There's room at the top for the both of you."

"And in six months when we're at each other's throats? On the brink of another war?"

"Are you saying you doubt your ability to play nice with the other kids?"

"What makes you think I won't just off Negan and Rick at the same time, huh? Take it all for myself."

Lana snorted in derision. "You'd never manage that."

His pacing stopped now, and with him facing away from her she was unable to gauge his expression. But she was confident this was going her way, that she was chipping away at his loyalty. All she had to do was put the idea into his head, make him start seriously thinking about what this place could be if he were in charge…the rest would take care of itself.

"You want me to kill the man who created all this," he said, gesturing around the room as he looked back to her. "Who built this place. Dragged it up out of the dirt and turned it into something worth fighting for."

Leaning forward in the chair, Lana held his gaze. "I want you to kill the man who dragged it out of the dirt," she confirmed. "Before he drags it back down again."

Unable to argue that point, Simon seemed to linger on that thought, and so Lana continued speaking.

"This is the only way, Simon. If you don't do this, Rick is going to kill you all. Everyone. You're the only one who can save these people."

There it was, the moment she had truly convinced him. She saw the slight twitch of his hand, the way his expression relaxed. He liked the sound of what she proposed, that he would be the one to save this place, shouldering the burden of killing his own leader to save hundreds of lives. Simon the Saviour…it had a nice ring to it.

"You do realise, you're gonna have to go back in the cell," he said quietly. "This isn't going to happen now. This will take days to get people on board, to get support."

"This needs to happen now. Start with Dwight."

"And if he's not on board?:

"Do I really have to spell it out to you? Remind him of every little indignity. Negan fucks his wife and flaunts it in front of him. He'll be on board."

With a heavy sigh Simon shook his head to himself, looking at her properly now. "Let me handle the how and the when, but you have to go back in the cell. Negan decides to check you're still breathing, you gotta be in there."

Her mood deflated, though she had anticipated this. "Can I at least get a clean bucket to throw up in? Maybe something to read, a pen to write with."

"New bucket and a book, yes. No to the pen. Get up."

Confident she had done as much as she could she did as ordered. At Simon's instruction she hastily grabbed whatever reading material she could get her hands on, old magazines and what looked like a travel guide for Bermuda, she didn't care. Bringing it with her she allowed Simon to escort her out of his room and back through the corridors, taking their time to move about the place undetected. To her relief they stopped by a janitorial closet where he rummaged around inside, finding a clean bucket and suitable lid to replace the disgusting one currently in use, a huge relief to her. It hadn't helped her morning sickness to be throwing up into a bucket of her own bodily waste.

At the final corridor before taking the stairs down to the basement they encountered the Saviour who was supposed to be guarding her, and Lana had to stifle a laugh to see the way he leapt up out of his seat. His face dropped in shock, his feet already backing him away while she and Simon walked towards him as if nothing were amiss.

"You keep your mouth shut, I'll keep mine shut too," Simon growled as he passed the man by, letting him off the hook for the prisoner's escape.

As they descended the stairs Lana glanced over her shoulder, seeing the guard watching them go down. "You should swap him out for someone else, he's got a bad case of the shits."

Simon muttered under his breath, shaking his head at her. "Do I even want to know what you did, or how?"

Preferring to leave him wondering Lana just shrugged, saying nothing to explain herself. When he unlocked the cell she went in without protest, simply relieved that the bucket was being swapped out. Tossing the books and magazines onto the bed she turned to face Simon who still stood in the threshold, and she hoped he wasn't hesitating.

"I believe in you, Simon…so does Rick."

For a long moment he simply stared at her, one hand restlessly coming up to stroke the sides of his moustache. He guffawed at her and shifted his feet uncomfortably, but a moment later his body language changed, becoming more confident and bold.

"I let you out when it's done…and then Rick will get rid of the dead ones?"

She nodded. "All he wants is Negan's head. You bring that out with me by your side, Rick will end this."

Without any more flickers of hesitation Simon extended his hand, Lana quickly responding in kind. Both parties satisfied, they shook on their deal.

* * *

A/N In answer to a reviewers question, I won't be writing a fourth story for Rick and Carrie. I'm sure I could come up with plenty of ideas for them, but I work full time and want to get back into study. With Rick's departure from the show it's just a good time for me to wrap up my writing too, even though I'd love to keep writing Rick and Carrie forever.


	73. Chapter 73

Tuesday, April 8

After days of nothing the allies were weary and impatient, struggling to keep at it while sight of the end kept slipping further and further away. By now the Sanctuary had to be perilously low on drinking water, and it would soon become hot and stuffy now that their ventilation systems had been shut off yesterday afternoon. By now Rick hardly even cared what happened, so long as _something_ happened.

Finally that moment seemed to have come. In the late evening Rick was at the top of the water tower keeping watch of the Sanctuary, he and everyone else studying it intently. Without warning people had been pulled from their watch posts, everyone going back inside about twenty minutes ago. Those closer to the Sanctuary were reporting sounds of shouts and cheering from inside, noise that was getting the Walker herd riled up, but no matter how hard he looked he couldn't see any evidence that they were preparing a breakout. They were ready for it if it happened though, they were prepared for Plan B…but still they were stuck waiting.

Negan hadn't responded to their radio calls since yesterday. They had spoken around midday, the usual time both parties touched base, and the conversion had been much the same as the days before. He repeated the same information he had previously, that Lana was alive, the Sanctuary was not standing down, and that Rick should go fuck a goat - though that last part was new. In reply Rick simply gave him a single number, sixty three, the number of hostage Saviours and children they had in their custody. Thirty nine soldiers imprisoned at the Hilltop, Arat, ten children and three women safely kept at the Kingdom. But as usual Negan made no comment about them, and Rick wasn't yet ready to start killing prisoners just to make a point.

Then again, if something didn't change soon, he might have to start taking different measures.

It was rather disconcerting that Negan hadn't spoken to them that day, that their usual radio call to him had gone unanswered. It made Rick both worried and hopeful. Was Negan not responding because he was busy preparing a breakout, or was he dead? He wasn't holding out hope for the latter. If Negan was dead sure as hell whoever killed him would have brought out the proof by now. After five days the Saviours must be climbing the walls in there, ready and willing to have this over with as soon as possible.

A small success had been gained, for Daryl had left the water tower. He went down that morning, Sasha having convinced him to get some sleep, and now he was keeping watch of things from ground level. The change had pleased Rick, who was increasingly concerned for Daryl's state of mind. He had barely ventured down from the tower since he had first ascended five days ago, sitting a near constant vigil for Lana, waiting for her.

Rick could empathise with his helplessness, having been in this very position not long ago. There had been nothing he could do for Carrie but play the games with Negan, and now it was Lana in there, trapped by her own stupidity…stupidity that could very well change the course of this war. If she convinced Simon to turn against Negan they could have a surrender in a matter of hours, it could be over with minimal casualties. But then again, regardless of how this went there were a great number of people who were unlikely to survive what followed, no matter how nicely they played.

The sun was setting now, and as wind picked up again Rick listened hard. The shouts and cheers from the Sanctuary had been going on for about ten minutes now, but the distant sounds had become quite audible now. The cheers turned into distinguishable roars of approval, the kind that made Rick's heart pick up. He was desperate to know what was going on in the Sanctuary, what kind of event might have transpired to incite such a reaction. With his binoculars raised he scanned the exterior of the Sanctuary, continuing to look for evidence of what was happening…and then silence fell.

Irritated by the lack of information, he turned to his walkie talkie. "Anything?"

"Nothing we can see," Sasha replied. "They've gone quiet now."

Irritated, Rick let out a low breath, feeling impatient. Trying to keep a level head he allowed his thoughts to turn to Carrie, his heart beginning to ache. He had anticipated that he would miss her, but the reality of separation like this was always a little harder in practice. Oceanside felt so far away, and he wondered what she was doing right now, if she was getting ready to put Judith to bed. He wondered what Calvin was doing, if he was still sleeping all day and awake all night.

Restless and homesick he dug around in the pouch on his duty belt, taking out the plastic pouch he kept some photographs in for sake keeping. The picture of him, Lori and Carl from years ago, Judith's birthday party last year, and the first picture of their family of five from her party this year. Calvin had slept through the entire celebration, and in the photo he was curled up in the crook of Rick's arm as they huddled together around Judith's cake. He studied his face, already knowing that he had changed much since then, that the next time he saw his youngest son he would have changed again.

At three and a half weeks old by now he was probably getting longer by now, quickly outgrowing his smallest clothes just as his siblings had. So much he had missed already, and there was no end in sight for this war, no real idea of when he might see his family again. He recalled missing those early week's of Judith's life too, that he was only intermittently around. Back then he had been fighting the Governor, and this time it was Negan. Who would be next? Who would be the next enemy that kept his family apart?

Hours had passed now, the time fast approaching midnight, and Rick was well and truly freezing his ass off atop the water tower. But still there was no sign of Lana, nor any sign of what the earlier fuss had been about. Just like the days that had passed they were setting in for another long night on watch, dreading the possibility that this standoff could last for days more. Their initial hopes of having this over in a few hours had vanished quickly, a stark reminder that Negan and the Saviours were as equally determined to defend their home as Rick and the allies were.

As midnight drew nearer he was looking forward to being relieved of his position. He had been up there since six o'clock that morning, taking over from Daryl eighteen hours ago. Intermittently others had come up, bringing fresh water and keeping him company or allowing him to sleep a little, but he was more than sick of this task. Down at ground level they had set up a makeshift watch house, a place where he could curl up in the warmth of a sleeping bag and put all of this out of mind…presuming he could sleep, of course. Lately it had been difficult to come by, and not because there was no opportunity. How could be possibly get restful sleep right now? Even for the few hours that he dozed he was always sleeping with one eye open, half awake and waiting for something to happen.

And finally it did…finally, something happened.

Feeling his exhaustion getting the better of him he had just raised the walkie talkie to request an earlier change of shift, unable to last the remaining fifteen minutes. But before his thumb could even touch the button he saw sudden flashes of light, accompanied by the all too familiar sound of distant gunfire. There was nothing coming towards him, no sounds of his people on watch firing back…but something was going on.

"Watch posts, come in," he requested, slowly rising to his feet. His legs felt numb from the cold and the position he'd held for so long, making him stagger a little and grip the railing. "What's happening out there?"

As the others responded without much insight Rick raised his binoculars, trying to see through the pitch dark night. He scanned the exterior of the Sanctuary, heart faltering when he saw dozens of Saviours at the windows with guns aimed down, firing on the Walkers. He watched them in curiosity, wondering how they expected to kill all of them with their low ammunition stores. But the longer he watched the more he understood, seeing that they were not shooting at random but rather with great care. They were taking out specific Walkers, and over the course of a few minutes they began to fall dead in two distinct lines, corpses piling up on top of one another, and then it all made sense.

"They're breaking out!" he shouted down the walkie talkie, setting in motion the alternate plan. "We have to go."

Without hesitation the allies people responded appropriately. A panic broke out among them, everyone issuing conflicting orders to one another, no one taking control and no one following each other's lead. But it was all a performance, something to make the Saviours think they were acting in a blind panic, that the aggressors had the advantage. In reality Rick didn't need to worry about his people, trusting that they were already working together in well rehearsed fluidity. Things would be underway in minutes. Some of them would stay close to the Sanctuary for the inevitable conclusion upon Negan's death, while others would spread out to provide extra support at the Kingdom and Hilltop. The majority however would be returning to Alexandria, ready to make the final stand for everyone's freedom.

Rick holstered his walkie talkie and slung the rifle over his shoulder, checking he had everything he needed. With care he began climbing down the ladder, the rungs cold and damp, his body stiff and aching. The bruising having not yet healed his shoulder still ached from where the Oceansiders had shot him, an injury well over a month old by now. He hastened a little when someone began firing on him, hearing the terrifying sound of the rounds flying past him, but their aim was a mile off.

On the ground waiting for him was Daryl on his bike, waving for him to hurry as he ascended the final rungs before leaping to the ground. The Walkers in this area were numerous, lured in by the nearby herd and now riled up by the sounds of gunfire. Dodging a couple of them he swiftly climbed onto the back of Daryl's bike and situated himself, nudging him with his knee when he was ready. As they took off into the cold night he tried to imagine Carrie sitting on the back of this bike, nine months pregnant and hanging on for dear life.

Finally, everything was coming to fruition, and soon enough this would all be over for good.

* * *

When the cell door opened without warning Lana jerked awake, the National Geographic magazine that lay against her chest slipping off onto the mattress. Her heart pounded from the shock, her eyes cringing away from the sudden bright light so much so that she didn't see the heavy object thrown in at her. Whatever it was hurt when it hit her square in the back, and still half asleep she moved about clumsily, fumbling to push herself upright.

"What the hell," she muttered, blinking rapidly as she looked at the thing behind her.

When she saw it she couldn't stifle her scream, though she had seen equally horrifying sights before this. Laying wild eyed and snarling on the mattress was Simon's head, the pummelled mess of flesh and blood rendering her dumb with shock. She couldn't look away, unable to register anything but the imperative need to get away from it, to cry out again when it finally clicked what this meant, that Simon was dead.

Scrambling to get away she slipped in her haste, and before she could think twice she backed herself straight up against Negan who was standing in the doorway. She barely caught a glimpse of him before his arms slipped around her and pulled her back against his chest, holding her tight enough that she couldn't move. From anyone else it could have been an embrace of affection, but the way he pinned her arms against her side was anything but loving, as was the way he leant down and whispered into her ear.

"Nice…fucking…try."

Bile rose in her throat, her body trembling so hard Negan laughed at her expense, tightening his hold around her chest. In silent horror she stared at Simon's decapitated head, trying to get her thoughts in order. It had of course crossed her mind that Simon might fail in his coup attempt, but never did she anticipate Negan would know it had anything to do with her…had Simon told him? Had Simon opened his big fucking mouth and given her away?

"Who the fuck do you think you are, making deals with this psychopath?"

"Negan, hear me out," she started, her calm voice a stark contrast to the way she felt inside. "He's the one wh-"

"He's the one who wanted me to take Carrie's baby for myself," Negan growled into her ear, tightening his arms around her. "Did he tell you that during your little fucking pow wow?"

Without letting her answer he released her, roughly shoving her away. She stumbled across the small cell, throwing her hands out and catching herself against the opposite wall. On the mattress beneath her was Simon's head, the sight of it revolting her to the very core. Moving away she turned to properly face Negan, trying not to feel intimidated by the way he towered over her as he moved further into the cell. He seemed to take up all the space available, making her shrink into the corner even as she tried to stand her ground.

"That sick fuck wanted me to keep Carrie's baby," he growled, advancing on her. "Wanted me to rip it right out of her and raise it as my own. Did he tell you that?"

"No."

"If he had his way, we'd have killed the whole fucking lot of you!" he shouted. "Alexandria, Hilltop, the Kingdom - burnt to the mother-fucking ground!"

Not knowing what to say Lana just stood there, trying to remember to breathe. She stared at Negan silently, for the first time taking in his disheveled appearance. Both eyes still bore lingering bruises from where she had kicked him on the nose, but he bore more recent injuries too. His white tee-shirt torn at the neck, knuckles bloodied and bruised, and a split lip that was swollen and puffy. A quick glance down at Simon's head told her all she needed to know, that his idea of a coup was fighting to the death…literally.

"You're the only one who has to die," she said firmly, looking him in the eye. "Rick's ready to lead the herd away the moment you stand down and save your people. Are you going to do that, or make them die for you?"

His eyes darkening, Negan came closer again, towering over her as he backed her right up against the wall. Up close and personal he held her gaze, and in his right hand he held Lucille at his side, flexing his grip on her.

"You know, I've been thinking Simon was on to something here." For a long moment he simply stared at her before continuing, lowering his voice even more. "I've been shown up one too many times. You people are always going to think there's a loophole, a way to skate by."

"It doesn't have to be this way."

"You made it this way!" he shouted at her, his upper lip curling into a cruel sneer before he took a step back. In the tight space of the cell he swung Lucille up onto the front of his shoulder, the motion making Lana flinch in fright. "You're always going to be looking for that chance to push back. All of you!"

"No."

"Rick isn't good for anything now, he'll never work for me again. None of them will," he roared, spittle flying from his mouth he was so enraged. "So now, I gotta kill all of 'em!"

"No," Lana repeated, raising her voice. "Trust me Negan…your people will not make it. We're too strong."

"You talking about that fucking stunt with my fucking armoury?" he snarled, actually managing a laugh. "You put the girls up to that? Did you?"

She ignored this, though she was pleased to hear of it. "What are you going to do?"

Negan scoffed under his breath. "What I should have done weeks ago. I'm going to pay a house call to Carrie. I'm gonna take her and that baby, and bring them back here…but not before I make her walk past all the dead bodies I'm leaving behind."

Not rising to this Lana held her tongue, simply holding his gaze. She knew what would be awaiting them at Alexandria…it was just a shame that he was leading his own people to their deaths. "Alright. If that's the way it's going to be."

"You think I won't? he questioned, tilting his head at her as the corner of his mouth curled.

"You won't win," she said confidently. "And you'll never get your hands on Carrie."

Negan's demeanour changed now, the subtle curl of his mouth turning into an actual smile. He seemed to chuckle to himself, making that strained laugh in the base of his throat as he looked at Lucille against his shoulder. Appearing much more at ease now he moved closer to her again, looking her in the eye as he backed her into the corner and leant down to whisper in her ear.

He whispered four words into her ear, his softly spoken voice making her body turn cold. She was paralysed in horror, feeling like ice was spreading through her veins until she could hardly breathe. It couldn't be…no. He couldn't possibly know the truth.

"Oceanside Cabin Motor Court."

Lana stood there in silence, her mind and body failing her. Words would not compute in the midst of this gut wrenching revelation…Negan knew where Carrie was.

"See your man Vetor told me all about it," he continued to whisper, his breath hot against her ear. "Thought I'd let you out of your agreement to be my wife in exchange for giving them up…but I didn't want them anymore, not once I had you."

She took a slow breath in, trying to collect herself. "He was wrong."

"No, he wasn't…I can tell. That must be where she is, right?" he taunted, pressing her harder into the corner of the room until she had to hold her breath, recoiled as far away from him as she could. "Rick wants to draw me to Alexandria, well so fucking be it!" he snapped, raising his voice. "But I'm going to pay Carrie a visit after. I've got some un-fucking-finished business with her."

"You'll never make it," she threatened, finding her bravery again. She pushed against him to free herself of his confines, staring up at him in defiance. "You're going to get people killed for a woman who will never want you!

Negan just smiled, chuckling in the back of his throat as he backed up a few paces. In his hand he readjusted his grip on Lucille, lifting her up a little and running his fingertips over the sharp barbs of wire. "She doesn't have to want me…once I bring her Rick's head, she won't have any where else to go."

"You're never going to win!" she shouted, following him as he stepped out of the cell and slammed the door shut. "You hear me, Negan? You're going to get your people killed!"

On the other side of the door she could hear him shouting, low murmurs of other people who were hastening to follow his lead, to join him without question as he journeyed to Alexandria. Those people had no idea that he was leading them to their death, that Rick and Alexandria had possession of not only the prisoners Negan had abandoned, but the Brownings he presumed were hidden and unreachable.

She was trembling now, her hands quaking so hard she could barely switch on the camping lantern. Trying to compose herself she took off the shirt she had taken from Simon, using it to wrap his decapitated head so she could move it from her mattress. Bile rose in her throat as she picked it up, feeling it writhing and snarling at her, the animalistic instinct to devour anything living still taking priority. Setting it aside she tossed the blanket across the mattress before laying down again and curling up onto her side, trying to settle down and start waiting this out.

There was no way Negan would survive what happened to him next. It didn't matter that he knew where Carrie was, it didn't matter that he had suspected all along. His determination to kill Rick first would be his downfall, it would be the end of this entire war and the start of a new life for those who had survived, including Lana.

All she had to do was wait this out a little longer, and in a few months time this would all be a bad memory.

* * *

Just like a part of him always suspected it would, it had finally come to their Plan B. He had hoped that Negan would see sense, that he would stand down and give himself up to ensure the safety of the people he claimed to lead, but he was determined to fight this until the end, and so that's exactly what had to happen next. It didn't matter that Rick didn't want it to come to this, that he didn't want his son involved or for dozens of people to be slaughtered on the doorstep of Alexandria…this was what it had come to.

This would be it, the final confrontation where Negan went down. But in the back of his mind he couldn't help but worry that just as this was Negan's last stand, so too was it his own. The allies had this planned down to a fine detail, but this didn't mean things couldn't go wrong…they could lose people tonight, and one of them could be him. It had always been a risk he understood, but after making it this far the notion that he might die tonight was difficult to stomach. He didn't want to leave his family, he barely got to be with them…and if it had to happen, he didn't want Carl to see it.

By now it was approaching three o'clock in the morning, the Saviours having made only slow progress with their breakout. They'd heard the finer details from Sasha who had rushed to join them at the last minute, that a group of equally brave and stupid individuals had managed to get out of the Sanctuary through the pile up of Walkers, managing to find a nearby car and lead the herd away. That left it clear for Negan and his convoy, five trucks that had been filled with the best soldiers and what looked like all the ammunition they had left.

As he waited by Carl's side Rick looked around at Alexandria, observing the lights that had been left on in the houses to cast a soft glow to anyone arriving outside the gates. Normally at night they were plunged into absolute darkness, not wanting the light to alert Walkers or strangers to their presence, but tonight they would serve a purpose. Tonight he wanted Negan and the Saviours to see the lights on, to remember that there were people here, Carrie and her children…they didn't need to know that Alexandria was largely deserted, that it had been for days now.

The allies maintained absolute radio silence when they heard the sound of incoming vehicles, not needing to communicate with one another. They'd had days of practice and dry runs, and after waiting for hours in the dark they were ready to wage their attach, they were ready for this, all of them. Still, there were nerves to be had, nerves that made Rick reach out and put his hand on Carl's shoulder. It pained him to bring his son here tonight, to involve him in this war anymore than he absolutely had to be, but if anyone stood a chance of keeping Negan in one place and letting his guard down it was Carl. That's all he had to do tonight, talk to Negan to buy them just enough time to get right into position.

"They're here," he said, squeezing Carl's shoulder. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, willing to give him an out if he needed it.

Carl nodded, and though he patted Rick's hand before brushing it off his shoulder it wasn't a rejection of his comfort, but a reassurance that he could do this. "We all know what to do," he murmured, glancing up at him. "Me too."

Trusting him they lingered there in silence, listening to the sound of the engines approaching, the sound of squeaking brakes. It wasn't a quiet approach, the sounds of the uninvited growing louder before beginning to spread around. Following the sounds Rick looked around to his left, imagining the Saviours moving around to the other side of the walls towards the eastern gate Abraham had helped build. Almost simultaneously the engines died down, the sound echoed by car doors opening and closing, the subtle crunch of boots on gravel.

It didn't matter that he was expecting it, the sound of the three loud knocks on Alexandria's gate sent a shiver down Rick's spine. He and Carl waited with bated breath as a high pitched squeal was quickly followed by Negan's magnified voice.

"Let's just cut through the cow shit," Negan started, sounding appropriately pissed off. "You - lose. You're done. The fat lady isn't singing anymore, she's getting gang banged in the dressing room. It's over."

Ushering Carl towards the south watch post he put his hand on the back of his shoulder, feeling that he was shaking a little. "You alright?"

"Yeah," he replied, his voice surprisingly steady. "We just need a few minutes, right?"

"That's right," he assured him, squeezing his shoulder. "Just keep him talkin'. Say anything."

"You're gonna work up some apologies," Negan continued ranting, his moving shadow visible in the gap underneath the gate. "Anything short of grovelling on your fucking hands and knees is gonna get you killed. Then I kill Rick in front of everybody, nice and fucking slow while he's pissing pants for real this time! Then everyone else is gonna come back with me, and we're gonna start over."

At this Carl hastened a little, giving Rick a nod that was supposed to be reassuring before rushing towards the ladder.

"You fuckers have one mother fucking minute to open this gate, or we're gonna bomb the fucking shit outta you!"

Questioning every decision he had made, particularly that to bring Carl here for this job, Rick waited on the grass below. In his hand was his Colt, and he restlessly opened the chamber and ran his thumb over the six rounds, feeling them there, reassuring himself that they were prepared for this. Negan liked Carl, he wasn't going to take a shot at him, he wasn't going to hurt him…in a few minutes this would be over.

"Brought this on yourself, Rick. See, I was willing to work with you. All you had to do was follow a few very simple rules. Now? Well, now I see that you got to go," he taunted. "Scorched earth you dick!"

Reaching the top of the south watch platform, Carl braced himself for a moment, looking down at Rick before slowly rising to his feet and then revealing himself. "He's not home."

"Oh-ho-holy shit!" Negan laughed, sounding genuinely pleased. "Everybody hold your fire, it's Carl."

Releasing a slow breath Rick waited, using the dim moon light to keep track of the time on his watch. Carl's appearance was the signal, and his people had just spent days rehearsing this, moving through the woods in the dead of night, carrying the Brownings into position. In two minutes time it would be done.

"Look at you, answering the door like a big boy," Negan teased, a murmur of laughter sweeping through the Saviours. He had lowered the megaphone, his voice only just audible to Rick on the other side of the wall. "Daddy's not home, huh? Like I believe that horse shit…"

"He's not."

"I gave him ample fucking time to get back here," Negan said lightly. "Took us hours to shoot through the dead and get outta that parade of dead ones he left us. So where's your Daddy?"

"Not here," Carl repeated vehemently. "But there are families here. My sister," he emphasised. Carrie and the baby."

At the mention of them Rick listened with bated breath, conscious that this had to be what had drawn Negan here first. Attacking the Kingdom would have made the most sense, but he had come here just like he wanted him to…for Carrie? What was he going to say about her? What everyone's suspicion that his liking of her was more than a pitying fondness?

"Well that shit just breaks my heart…if it was fucking true. There were kids at the Sanctuary. Even had a little baby at one of the outposts. I wonder what happened to her."

"Those kids are fine. You know they are."

"And the kids in there? They ready for a little heat?"

Standing his ground Carl shook his head. "Let's talk about this. You and me, let's figure this out."

To his disbelief Negan started laughing, his chuckles so soft that it drew Rick closer to the wall. He was standing beneath the watch post now, practically putting his ear up against the metal sheeting so he didn't miss a thing.

"Oh, now you wanna talk?" Negan asked, beginning to sound impatient. "See, your dad had it that I died no matter what. He didn't wanna talk. Now…we're gonna need a new understanding! You people are gonna grovel for forgiveness on your hands and knees, and then you're gonna punished."

"Let's talk then," Carl repeated. "We can figure this out"

Glancing at his watch Rick's heart rate began to accelerate even more, pounding painfully hard inside his chest. What was taking them so long? They should be in position by now. Carl couldn't afford to call Negan's bluff for much longer, they couldn't risk dragging this out.

"Alright, we'll talk," Negan agreed. "Bring her on out here."

"Who?"

"You know who I'm talking about," he said darkly. "I never did get to say goodbye to her…never did get to give her a baby present."

"Y-you want to talk to Carrie?" Carl said in disbelief.

"That'd sure as fuck be nice. Your Dad said she was home. So unless he's a lying piece of shit, which I know he is, she's in there."

Carl paused for a moment, staring down at him. "You've gotta be joking," he said. "She doesn't want to talk to you."

"Well this isn't about what she fucking wants," Negan shouted angrily, coming closer to the wall. "That bitch owes me, and she knows it! Now she comes out here to fucking talk to me, or I'm lighting this place up whether she and the baby are in there or fucking not!"

As Negan's voice grew closer Rick recoiled from the wall, backing away nervously. Negan was too close to the wall…the wall and those behind would get caught up when they fired on him. Well engineered or not, these walls were no protection from the guns they were employing tonight. As he emerged from underneath the platform he looked up at Carl, noting from the way he looked almost directly down to the other side that Negan was indeed too close.

"Carl," he whispered, getting his attention.

He turned back and looked at him, frowning as he struggled to see him properly. Rick held up both his hands, palms flat and facing him, compelling him to stay up there. If they had to fire on the walls it would be safer up there than down on the ground.

"Stay," he whispered, pointing up to the platform. "Stay up there."

"Is that you, Ricky boy?" Negan called out, making that strained groan in the back of his throat. "You hiding back there like a fucking coward?"

Ignoring this comment he glanced at his watch, his heart pounding so hard he felt sick. Why hadn't their people attacked yet? What was taking them so damn long?

"Real fucking brave sending your kid out to plead for you. Who's next out here pleading for you? Your little girl?"

At this he briefly closed his eyes, recalling that Carrie had made the same comment last time he saw her. Reaching the limit of his patience Negan slammed Lucille against the walls, the metal sheeting rattling ominously.

"Get your sorry ass out here and start grovelling!" Negan ordered, his voice heavy with fury. "Because I'm making you the same offer you made me! You're going down you prick…it's just a matter of how many people you take down with you."

There was silence for a long moment, and when Rick didn't respond Negan continued.

"Carl's going down too," he threatened. "But I'll be nice about it, I'll kill him first! Then the rest of your family? They're coming to the Sanctuary…the whole fucking lot of them! They're mine!"

Enraged, though he should have let these threats wash over him, Rick started towards the watch platform's ladder. But before he could make it two steps the attack began, and the only way to describe it was _hellfire_. It started without warning, the guns louder and more overwhelming than anything he'd ever heard, so great it felt like the world must have stopped turning in the moments that followed. Muzzle flare shone from the other side of the wall, the Brownings leading the chorus of heavy artillery that would eviscerate the Saviours, all of them.

Having misunderstood his instructions Carl leapt down from the platform, landing on the ground in a heap, and Rick lunged towards him. The cacophony of jarring sounds swept across Alexandria, gunfire ripping through the silent night from the south and east gates. It was all encompassing, rounds striking the metal walls and flying overhead with that high pitched whistle that told him they were too close. Doing the only thing he could he moved on top of Carl, trying to shield him from the attack that could be both their salvation and their end.

Well rehearsed, the Brownings were sweeping back and forth like a pendulum, battering the walls of Alexandria before passing over the cars on the road, killing all who had come to inflict Negan's punishment. An explosion rocked Alexandria, the ground quaking beneath them as bright light erupted in his peripheral vision, a wave of heart surge past him. Another explosion quickly followed, debris flying through the air as metal crashed against metal, but he didn't dare raised his face to look. Instead he turned closer into Carl, holding him even more tightly and focusing on the way his chest rose and fell without faltering. All they could do was ride it out, wait for it to be over.

For a few blissful seconds everything became silent, Rick's ears ringing and his ear drums throbbing uncomfortably. When the gunfire started again it was in short bursts, coming from their regular munitions which now seemed exceedingly soft in contrast to the Brownings. A little shell shocked Rick slowly raised his head and looked around, panting to catch his breath as he listened to the people on the outside. The slaughter was mostly over, just the occasional gunshots making sure that not one survivor remained. On the other side of Alexandria the allies there seemed to be going about the same process, but they were the first to fall silent.

"East gate, clear."

"South gate, clear."

Encouraged by the radio calls Rick pushed himself up, giving Carl a hasty shake. "You okay?" he asked urgently, looking him up and down in the dark. When he didn't answer straight away his heart leapt into his throat, hands automatically searching his son's body for injuries, gunshot wounds from the Browning that he couldn't possibly survive.

"I'm okay," he said quietly, sounding dazed. Very slowly he pushed himself up onto his knees, swallowing heavily as he brushed Rick away. "I'm alright."

Ascertaining that for himself Rick breathed a sigh of relief, taking a moment to be grateful as he knelt there with his hand on Carl's shoulder. This could have gone so terribly wrong…his people weren't supposed to fire on the walls, not with him and Carl on the other side, but Negan had come too close and left them no choice. As he got to his feet he looked around, words failing him as he looked at the extensive damage to Alexandria's walls and gate. Light was streaming through the holes left from the bullets that punched their way through, while other areas were dented and warped from smaller rounds. But the true horrors were yet to be confronted.

"Stay behind me," he said lowly, bringing his rifle into his hands as he approached the gate.

Part of him never wanted to see what was waiting on the other side, he didn't want to face the truth of what had been carried out on his orders, but like always he had no choice. He had to know…he had to see it with his own eyes. With grim resolution he unlatched the gate and dragged it open, bile rising in his throat as he instinctively moved in front of Carl to shield him from what he had done.

It was sheer carnage, just like at the outpost where the Kingdomers had been slaughtered. For a few moments he was rendered frozen in horror, unable to look away from the dozens of men and women who had been massacred. In the shadows nearby stood the rest of his people, they too looking upon what they had done, their reactions ranging from sheer horror to detached acknowledgement.

Another survivor among the dead was swiftly executed, and there was no mercy. These people were warned…

Gripping his rifle Rick turned and slowly made his way left, listening to the soft sound of his footsteps. Beneath the south watch post lay four or five bodies where Negan had to have been standing, where he was talking to Carl. With his people a captive audience that waited with bated breath Rick considered the scene before him, not at all surprised that the Saviours had gone down trying to protect Negan. They had given their lives for him…but it hadn't been enough. Negan was surely dead.

Clearing his throat Rick put the rifle over his shoulder and then seized the closest body, taking a fistful of their clothing and dragging the corpse aside. He retched in disgust when he caught sight of the injuries sustained, gaping wounds the size of his fits, organs spilling out and limbs hanging by threads of muscle and tissue. As he reached for the next corpse he literally stumbled over half a skull, and even as he silently acknowledged that this was a sight he could never rid himself of for the rest of his life he continued. He couldn't stop yet, not until he could see Negan's corpse right in front of him, until he had the proof that the mongrel was dead. There was one last job to do, to hoist his corpse up in front of Alexandria to prove to everyone that the war was over and their freedom won.

The first two corpses were people he recognised, one of Negan's closest soldiers and Gavin, the Kingdom's outpost leader. When he dragged aside the third corpse Rick felt his body turning cold, a terrifying sense of doom beginning to close in on him. Scrambling now he lunged at the next corpse, Daryl rushing in to help as he too began to see what Rick had. Where Negan's corpse ought to lay was nothing more than a patch of overgrown grass and weeds. Panic began to set in as soft murmurs swept through those watching, more people rushing forward to help with the search.

Negan's body was nowhere to be found. The only evidence of his presence there was the baseball bat laying abandoned in the grass…he was gone.

"Where is he?" Rick demanded furiously, feeling his voice straining in his throat. _No, no, no…this couldn't be happening. It was over…it had to over._ "Where the fuck is he?"

Determined that it was a mistake he worked harder now, hauling aside more corpses as his desperation grew. They pulled aside bodies in bits and pieces, almost able to taste the blood that lingered in the air, blood that seemed inches deep in places, but he barely noticed it. Frantically searching he was manic with fear, feeling like the world was spiralling away from him, like he couldn't hang on any longer…he had failed. It wasn't over.

"Start lookin'!" Daryl ordered, pointing people in various directions. "Go!"

Unable to comprehend the magnitude of his failure Rick knelt there in the middle of the road, blood and gore all over him, marking him as if defeated. He couldn't believe it…Negan was gone.

In seconds everyone was spreading out in search, their spirits not yet defeated, certain that their prey couldn't have gone far. Rick watched them only long enough to see Carl running off at Daryl's side, safe with him. It felt like _that night_ all over again, the way he felt kneeling in that dirt with Glenn and Abraham dead, Carrie and Daryl taken away from him…their sheer magnitude of his failure is overwhelming. It felt like he'd never move from this spot, like he would never recover from this moment…

Without consciously deciding to do so Rick rose to his feet, his legs feeling numb as he stood there alone amongst the dead. The night was quiet once again, the silence broken only by the shouts of the search party and the nearby Walkers closing in, drawn by the irresistible commotion. As he stood there he felt his mind beginning to clear, his thoughts aligning once again. Right now, there was one place in the immediate vicinity that was safe, but it wasn't his personal safety he was thinking of. His gaze darted back towards the gate into Alexandria, wondering if it was possible…

Was Negan that stupid?

If he was in there, maybe it wasn't stupidity drawing him in. Maybe it wasn't even Rick and his false assertion that Carrie and the baby were home…Negan too wanted this to be over.

Ready for whatever was about to come, Rick strode back over to the grass where Negan had been, reaching down and taking the beloved Lucille. For a moment he stood there with it in hand, testing its balance and looking it over. Either a miracle or a curse, the bat was completely undamaged from the assault, just a little slippery with the blood of those who had died protecting its owner.

Swinging it alongside himself just the way Negan did, Rick turned on his heel and made his way back towards the gate. His boots squelched in the blood as he walked over the corpses, but they were of no consequence to him now. Grimly thinking that he could actually get used to having this bat to carry around he hauled the gate shut and secured the latch, closing himself inside to await what came next.

One way or another, the war would end today.

* * *

A/N I really hope you enjoyed the chapter, quite a little more action and plot progression here - hope you enjoyed the twists and what Negan had up his sleeve.

As we're getting closer to the end of three enormous stories please do leave me a review of your thoughts for this chapter, I'm seriously going to miss reading what everyone has to say!

Next chapter someone is going to get their ass handed to them! Any guesses for who?


	74. Chapter 74

Though it was over now, Rick could still feel the ringing in his ears from the gunfire, could still smell the blood that seemed to linger in the air as it invaded his senses. It was all over him by now, consequences of the way he hauled corpses aside in his search for Negan, picking people up in bits and pieces. At this thought he felt himself start to retch, bile rising in his throat as he remembered the horrors he had seen. It felt like the blood was inches deep in places, it was dripping from the walls where it had sprayed.

In spite of it all he felt strangely serene right now. He was back in his family home, waiting in the nursery that his newborn son had yet to occupy. The night light projected stars around the nursery, the light and shadows slowly moving about on the walls. How long had he and Carrie spent in here, preparing this room for their son?

Crouched in the corner he looked at the paint work around the door frame, recalling the meticulous care he took to ensure it was right. He had been teaching Carl how to paint too, just like his own father had taught him once, but Carl had tired of it quickly. He preferred using the roller than cutting in, enjoying the immediate satisfaction of seeing his work complete. Rick on the other hand preferred cutting in around the corners and frames, patient enough to see the results of his care at the end. As he dwelled on the time spent here he couldn't help but wonder if it had been worth it, if Calvin would ever be raised in Alexandria like he and Carrie wanted? It was up to him to make sure that happened.

It had been a gamble returning to his home. A better leader might have brought back up with him, might have stayed out in the woods supporting the search out there, but Rick never claimed to suffer from the burden of perfection. Coming here alone was a selfish call no doubt, one that was risking his life should Negan get the better of him, but somehow he felt this was how it had to be. Would Negan show his face now that his entire group had been slaughtered, or was he only brave enough to face Rick?

The ten minutes that had passed seemed to indicate Negan wasn't coming, that he had fled like the coward he was…but soon enough Rick was rewarded for his patience. It was subtle, but after a year of living in this home he had grown used to the sounds it made, able to notice a shift that alerted him to Judith getting out of bed at night, or Carl opening the refrigerator, always the ravenous teenager. Having waited for this moment Rick's heart began to race when he heard the sound of someone on the stairs. They were moving quietly, taking their time in hopes of remaining undetected, but that hope was dashed when they reached the top.

There came the subtle sound of plastic rattling, whoever it was forgetting about the baby gate at the top of the stairs. It seemed they froze upon realising they'd made a sound, but there was no mystery as to who it was when they gave that infuriating chuckle from the base of their throat.

"Little pig, little pig…" Negan softly called out.

Slowly rising to his feet Rick stayed hidden behind the nursery door, waiting for his moment. Tightly gripped in his hand was his axe, methodically sharpened leading up to the start of the war six days ago now. Negan was not immortal…he just needed one good hit.

"This shit isn't funny anymore," Negan began, no longer lowering his voice. "I didn't want it to go this way."

The soft thud of a boot on the wooden floorboards indicated that he had stepped over the baby gate, and Rick watched as the shadows on the wall moved ever so slightly. He had left a lamp on in the master bedroom directly across the hall, the light giving him privy into Negan's movements, his indecisiveness.

"I just wanted to say goodbye to her," he continued, his voice growing closer. "Would've thought you owed me that at least."

The nursery door began to move, the hinges silent thanks to Rick's pre-emptive oiling of them, for a squeaky door was apt to wake a sleeping baby. As he prepared to come out swinging he drew a breath and squared his shoulders, but suddenly Negan's shadow on the wall receded.

"Lu…"

Laying on the floor at the far end of the hallway was the baseball bat, just waiting for Negan to retrieve it. But not if Rick had anything to say about it. Silently emerging from behind the door he stepped out into the corridor, coming up behind Negan who dove to collect Lucille from the ground. Readying himself he pursed his lips and then blew a soft whistle, those two haunting notes that terrorised his people that night in the woods.

Seeming unperturbed Negan didn't rush to turn around, simply taking a moment to look Lucille over. "Well," he began darkly, slowly rising to face him. "A big jolly howdy to you, Dudley Do-Right."

Waiting only until his back was no longer turned, Rick took a decisive step forward and hurled the axe, getting a grim jolt of satisfaction when Negan yelled out in surprise. He raised his arms to defend himself, the blunt end of the axe striking him on the elbow before clattering to the ground along with the baseball bat. Rick started forward, grimly determined to end this, to survive. This would not be the first man he killed and nor would it be the last, but this kill was about more than defending his family's freedom. The moment Negan corralled them into that clearing at had them on their knees the need to fight arose, but it wasn't until he murdered Glenn and Abraham that it became so personal.

With his knife drawn he charged at Negan, bringing it up from his side and lunging for his gut, needing one good stab. But as he knew he would his adversary fought back, holding him at bay with the baseball bat and sending them both crashing into the wall, leaving holes in the drywall as they struggled. The knife was knocked astray from his hands but in a stroke of luck he managed to reach the axe on the floor, grabbing it and taking a swing with the blunt end. But Negan was bigger and stronger than him, not that size had stopped him from taking on men like Shane and walking away with his life. Letting Negan push at him with Lucille between them he wrenched him through the nearest open door, making Negan lose his footing and crash over him into the room.

For a moment he lay there dazed, startled by the soft yellow walls and the stars that moved about on the walls. In a momentary panic his eyes widened as he looked into the crib, scrambling away from it as if he expected to find a baby in there, and his momentary shock was enough for Rick to get the upper hand again. He wrenched Lucille away, laughing as Negan scrambled to get a hold of the end wrapped in barbed wire before hurrying after him. He slammed the heel of his boot to Negan's jaw, relishing in the shout of pain it gave him and then following it up with a kick to the gut.

"You really are a sick fuck," he lectured, panting to catch his breath. With the axe in one hand he raised the baseball bat in the other, brandishing it in Negan's face as he retreated into the hall. "You bombed this place when you thought Carrie was here. When you thought her baby was here."

Negan growled under his breath, his shoulders heaving as he stood doubled over. "I know she's not here, you asshole," he snarled, raising his head just enough to see him. "I know you were just fucking with me."

"And yet, here you are," Rick smirked. "Doing just what I wanted you to do…bringing your people along so they could slaughtered. Why would you do that?"

Still panting for breath Negan appeared to stumble, but Rick was not fooled. He could see him inching forward, catching his breath just enough. "Told your boy. I'm here for your apology."

"No," he shook his head, not believing him for a second. "You were hoping she _would_ be here. Are you in love with her?" he taunted. "You must be."

Pushed too far Negan abandoned his pathetic display, growling angrily as he spat blood from his mouth. Infuriated by what Rick had said he started towards him, eyes crazed and spirit not deterred by the fact he was unarmed. There was no conscious thought to what he was doing, Rick just swung Lucille with all his might, missing Negan's head and landing a heavy blow across shoulder, but he was undeterred. They dissolved into a struggle, Negan's bulk and brute force forcing him back even as he swung at him with the axe next, feeling it connect with little effect.

"You're in love with her," he taunted, fighting back with all he had. "Did you think she'd just fall into your bed like the others?"

Roaring in his face Negan brutally pushed him up against the wall, the dry wall dented by the force, but Rick pushed him back. He slammed the top of his axe hard into Negan's stomach, hitting him again and again trying to create space between them. The baseball bat was still clutched in his right hand, it would bring this fight to an end with one well placed hit, but Negan was fighting for it relentlessly. Struggling for control Negan forced him down to his knees, looping one arm around him while the other clawed at his wrist, fingernails digging and scratching at his skin until they drew blood. Rick tried, he really did, but he was no match for the brute force, and so in a calculated risk he let go of the bat and then kicked it. It rolled away and then in a moment of incredible luck the handle slipped through the railing that overlooked the staircase below, the bat sliding through and stopping halfway when the gap met the barbed wire.

As Negan dove for the bat Rick too scrambled, kicking at it with all his strength. The wooden railing splintered loudly, Lucille wedged in the gap as he kicked it at again, using his last opportunity before leaping to his feet. As Negan pathetically grabbed at the barbed wire and tried to pull it back Rick stood over him with his axe in hand, faced with a choice…kill, or torture.

"No!" Negan cried, flailing for it. "Don't you touch her!"

Later he would know that he had chosen poorly, but right then there was only one option. In that split second he thought back to that night in the woods, the way he knelt before Negan crying, begging to not be forced to maim his own child. He had revelled in Rick's agony, loving the way he made him suffer…it was only fair to turn the tables. Needing to see Negan suffering the way he did he swung the axe at the baseball bat instead of him, giving a shout of satisfaction when the blade connected with a loud _thunk_. Negan was roaring in fury, torn between trying to save that stupid bat and tearing Rick limb from limb, and only after he swung at it again did he finally take action.

Negan lunged at him wildly, knocking the axe out of his hands as the two of them stumbled back. Grabbing at anything he could Rick wrenched a picture down from the wall and slammed it across Negan's face, the two of them stumbling until the back of his legs were against the baby gate, but still Negan did not falter. Too late he reached out, trying to catch himself as they became airborne, but there was nothing he could do. Together they went crashing down the staircase, Negan's full weight landing on him as they rolled, and then Negan was on top of him, hands around his neck.

They had come to a stop at the landing halfway down, fate awarding Negan the advantage by landing on top. For a moment Rick laid there in shock, feeling the hands tightening around it throat, but it took longer than it should for him to realise that he couldn't breathe, that Negan was going to squeeze the life out of him. He started to struggle, feeling his eyes and tongue bulging as Negan tightened his grip, but there was nothing he could do.

"What kind of man would I be if I didn't want to stick my dick in her?" Negan growled, leaning down until they were practically nose to nose. "It's a beautiful family you had Rick. They're mine now, and soon she'll be begging to have me balls deep in her, just like they always do."

Ignoring these taunts Rick's hands fumbled about, managing to draw a blessed breath of air when Negan's grip relaxed a little. He wanted him to talk, he wanted to draw this out for as long as possible, but Rick wasn't having it. Though it was free his right arm burned in agony, feeling as if it was on fire. Attempts to unholster his Colt were pitiful and clumsy, but when Negan's grip tightened again and he could no longer breathe he struggled harder. His fingers felt like twigs, lacking the strength to grip his weapon and pull the trigger, but he managed to get a shot off.

It was enough, the earsplitting bang startling Negan enough that he leapt away with a shout. Protecting his only weapon Rick instinctually rolled onto his front to cover it, cradling his right arm as Negan kicked him in the back, brutally stomping until he managed to push himself up just enough. He fired another shot into the dry wall, a warning that made Negan retreat downstairs so fast he stumbled. In his haste he went crashing through the baby gate, shattering it beneath his great weight, and if he had the breath and state of mind Rick would have laughed.

Each breath strained at his throat, his body felt weak, but he wasn't giving up yet. Taking his gun in his left hand he forced himself to his feet and descended the stairs, facing Negan once again. They stood barely five yards apart, each step he took forward echoed by a step Negan took back. Panting, Negan was keeping him at a distance, but there was no trace of defeat in his eyes, not even after witnessing the slaughter of his soldiers who all died because of his ego.

"When I'm done with you, no one will ever try to do what you did," Rick threatened, moving closer again. "Not ever again."

To his surprise Negan smiled, laughing in the back of his throat. "You're too fuckin' cute. I'm gonna bring your head to Carrie…dump it in her lap so she can take one last look at you."

He tilted his head a little, making a point of looking around. "You, and what army?"

"Yo-"

"What's left of you and your people…you're going on display outside my walls. No one will ever fuck with Alexandria again."

Without another thought he fired, seeing Negan jolt and stumble, eyes widening in fright. Rick fired again and missed this time, but before he could pull the trigger again Negan was lunging at him, still refusing to go down as they began to struggle for the gun. It was a visceral, fuelled not only by the instinct to survive, but to kill. That's all Rick wanted to do right now, even if it meant he had to go down too. He had to kill Negan. Another shot from his Colt was expended, leaving him with only one round left when Negan managed to wrestle it out of his hands.

A loud clatter followed as the Colt fell to the floor and slid away, and then he was using everything and anything at his disposal, a table lamp, his hands and teeth. He felt every punch and blow, but it felt like it was happening to someone else, even when the pain in his right arm erupted again it was happening to someone else.

Nothing was going to stop him…until something did.

He had lunged towards the kitchen, seizing one of the metal stools and hitting Negan over the head it, relishing in the way the sound reverberated through the metal. But he grabbed the other end and pushed back, and with one slip of his boot Rick went down. He didn't feel the impact, but he saw it happen as if he was watching from afar. When Negan shoved him back his head struck the corner of the island counter, the blunt impact knocking him out for a split second. As he came to he saw himself slumped on the floor, his mind dazed and confused, one hand blindly reaching up. He knew something terrible had just happened, he knew he had to get up and defend himself, he had to survive this…but he could do nothing but lay there pathetically, his mind still struggling through the confusion.

Unable to move he watched as Negan loomed over him, tossing aside the metal stool. Warm blood was dripping through his hair and pooling on the floor, and he clumsily tried to stem the flow. In horror he looked up at Negan, his mind screaming at him to get up, to defend himself…but he couldn't. His body wouldn't listen to him, hands feeling like they were weighed down with lead while his feet scrambled aimlessly, achieving nothing but Negan's amusement. In his mind he could hear his own voice screaming at himself to get up, to do something, but nothing seemed to connect.

"It's - fucking - over!"

Negan disappeared from his sight, heavy footsteps echoing across the floor as he briefly disappeared. In that moment of solitude Rick tried again, but when he raised his head his vision blurred, bile rising in his throat. He tried to call out for help, but all that came out was a garbled mess of words, and then despair.

The remorse was agonising…he wasn't ready to leave his family behind.

He looked around his family home, empty for weeks now but still warm with the love that existed there, the love that had _grown_ there. When he thought of Carrie his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, a cry of grief tearing him apart…he knew what pain it was to lose a spouse. He didn't want her to suffer that, to feel such agony that she feared she'd never find happiness again. And their children…he wasn't ready to leave them. It felt like he barely knew them, even Carl. Why was it too much to ask that he get to see them grow up?

The sound of footsteps announced Negan's return, and when his boots appeared in Rick's peripheral vision it was like a switch flicked inside him and his body cooperated. It must have been a pathetic sight the way he tried to crawl away, his hands flailing to open the kitchen cabinets, to find something to defend himself with. But he couldn't get them open, the child locks meant to protect Judith leaving him with nothing to defend himself. Laughing mercilessly Negan stepped over him, pressing his boot down on his outstretched hand before slamming the other into his stomach. He kicked him again and again until his body curled in on itself, muscles spasming.

"Get up," Negan snarled, spitting at him. "Get up you fucking piece of shit!"

Struggling for breath, Rick did as he was told. His head spun and his stomach lurched, making him cough pathetically as he tried not to vomit, but he managed to push himself up. Still it wasn't enough, Negan grasping his shirt and wrenching him further upright before roughly slapping his cheek.

"Come on," he growled. "I can't fucking kill you like that now, can I?"

There were a few moments of blissful silence as Rick knelt there, his one good hand on the floor to hold himself up. Waiting until he was satisfied Negan began to pace back and forth, swinging Lucille alongside himself, explaining his brief departure. Sounding frustrated he grabbed Rick's hair and wrenched him further upright, but he just as quickly let him go and stepped away a second time.

"Fucking stay there!" he shouted, thrusting Lucille into his chest to keep him upright.

Finding the strength Rick managed to keep himself upright, and once again he was on his knees in front of Negan. Heaving for breath he managed to properly raise his head and face him, determined to look his murderer in the eye.

"You made me do this!" Negan ranted, looking like a caged lion the way he paced back and forth. "You, Rick! You fucking made me!"

"Then do it."

His voice didn't sound like his own, his words heavy and slurred, but he had no doubt that Negan understood him. "Any last words?" he offered. He made a point of adjusting his grip on the bat, raising it over his shoulder ready to strike.

"I made you a promise," Rick panted, looking him in the eye. "I'm still going to kill you."

This threat wasn't a conscious decision, the words just came out of his mouth without needing to think about it, for even as he knelt there on the floor awaiting his death he meant it with every fibre of his being. They seemed to reach a sort of stand off, Rick refusing to look away, and Negan unable to strike. For what felt like forever they lingered there frozen, Negan's face twisting into a pained snarl as his grip on the bat tightened, knuckles turning white. Through the silence they could hear the shouts of people outside, the search party drawn back to home by the gunshots, and for a moment that emboldened Negan. His eyes flashed with grim determination as he stepped forward to strike, but he jerked to a stop, frozen as if struck down by an electrical shock.

Inexplicably, he hesitated.

That terrifying moment seemed to last for hours, Rick suddenly all the more aware of just how alive he was. His body was in a world of pain, his heart aching in the agony of leaving his family behind…but it hadn't happened. The bat poised to strike Negan just stood there, for the first time ever unable to follow through on killing someone, a mortal enemy. What the hell was happening?

With an almighty howl Negan stepped away, finally swinging the bat at the column in the living room. Violently lashing out he struck the column again and again, the bat making a _thunk_ sound with every strike that splintered the plaster and wood. He was shouting something, ranting like a madman, but as Rick's head began to spin again he struggled to understand what he was saying. _Fucking bitch_ …that was the only thing he could make out. Carrie?

Not quite comprehending the notion that he had just escaped execution he struggled to his feet, immediately collapsing back to his knees, but he had made it far enough. His Colt was within reach now, allowing him to snatch it up and then roll onto his back with it raised. He fired his last shot as Negan fled from sight, rushing through the house and crashing through the side door. For a moment Rick lay there with his gun still raised, barely able to comprehend what had just happened to him.

Behind him others came bursting into the house, spurts of gunfire erupting outside as someone caught sight of Negan. Carl was in there helping Rick to his feet, panicking as he looked him over, but Rick barely took notice of him. The moment he was upright he felt his body lurching into action, remembering what he had to do, that he couldn't let Negan go. He could barely walk straight, but nonetheless he rushed outside and gave chase, following the commotion up the street. His people had returned to Alexandria just in time to catch Negan, they must have him cornered by now.

"Where is he?" Rick called out, jogging up the street towards the church.

There were people all around, beams of light from flashlights guiding him to the commotion. People were shouting, firing shots that erupted through the peaceful night…but it quickly died down. With Carl by his side he hastened towards the commotion, desperate to see for himself that they had Negan, that after everything it was finally over. They had him, surely they had him.

"Where is he?" Rick he shouted again, his voice catching in his throat when he arrived at the graveyard.

The commotion was indeed up here, but it wasn't Negan who lay dead on the ground. At his arrival people stepped away to let him through, revealing Sasha who lay still on the ground, her rifle by her side. He didn't need to come closer to see that she was dead, nor to see how she had died. Bleeding from a head wound she had to have taken at least two hard hits from Lucille, and in a moment of grim acceptance he felt it was almost poetic. She had fallen right alongside Abraham's grave, exactly the place her friends would bury her.

It was the silence that told him all he needed to know. Daryl was poised at the top of the wall, shining his flashlight into the woods as others climbed up too. Though there was no indication he saw where Negan had fled to he and the others jumped down, rushing off in hot pursuit, not yet giving up. When his head began to spin and his knees weakened Rick slowly lowered himself down to the ground, panting for breath, trying to comprehend what had happened. They couldn't let him get away, not again…not again…

 _Is this it? Is this the only vengeance they would get?_

* * *

It was rather early in the morning, barely fast five thirty, yet the sun had already risen, bringing with it the usual chorus of bird song. Laying there on the couch Carrie was awake but resting peacefully, her eyes closed as she listened to the sounds outside. At first she had been rather perturbed that her cabin backed directly onto the woods, for though the Walkers were kept well at bay with the traps it made her feel vulnerable to be so close to unknown things. Yet moments like this she enjoyed her location, and if she sat on her front porch like she had during the night she could even hear the ocean waves crashing onto the beach.

Hungry, she opened her eyes and reached out for the coffee table, taking an Oreo cookie from the jar. Twisting the two halves apart she ate the plain side first, chewing slowly and savouring the taste. She had only a few left, and she'd been trying to ration them ever since Barbara slipped them in to her clean laundry with a kind note suggesting she treat herself, but this morning she was hungry and comfortable, and the cookies were close. Finished with the first half she savoured the other even more, biting into the the fondant filling and relishing the sweetness.

"You want one?" she asked softly, holding out the last piece towards Calvin.

He lay happily in his little bouncer, a light blanket tucked close to keep him warm and comforted. Of course she wouldn't give him a cookie, but sometimes it was just nice to talk to him, even if it was more like talking _at_ him. Still, she knew he listened to the sound of her voice, that he liked hearing her. He was concentrating hard on the cookie, eyes focusing in a way he wouldn't have just a few days ago. Little milestones like this were a joy to witness, even the simple act of focusing his eyes on something other than her face.

"Don't tell your sister," she warned, eating the last of the cookie. "She's having toast for breakfast. Again."

Calvin cooed at her, his dark blue eyes and soft expression making him appear happy and content. Enjoying this moment she reached out and stroked his dark brown hair, wondering if it would curl as it grew. For a little while longer she lay there on the couch warm and comfortable, overjoyed from well rested she felt. It was a huge relief after the week that had just passed. Calvin had continued his reign of tears and sleeplessness for a total of six days, ravenous with hunger and not content no matter what…until yesterday. Somehow a miracle had occurred, and everything just fell into place as if the stars and planets had aligned.

He was sucking on the back of his fist again, a surefire sign that he was getting hungry, but for once he was showing her the signs before he got all worked up, or perhaps she was just getting better at recognising them. Though he had continued to wake through the night to feed, for the most part he had actually started to sleep again, staying that way for more than twenty minutes at a time. Since she'd gone to bed at eight o'clock last night she'd had roughly six hours of sleep, broken into blissful durations of almost two hours at a time. It seemed like little improvement, but it felt like an actual miracle.

Stroking his hair once more she dragged her fingers down and tickled his round cheeks, smiling at the way he turned his head to seek her finger out, eyes and mouth wide as he cooed at her some more. He gave her another flash of a smile, the way he often did when she talked and played with him, when she came close enough for him to see her face. She didn't care that others had said he was too young to be smiling intentionally, she knew what she could see.

With a glint of triumph in his eyes Calvin managed to get her fingertip into his mouth, eagerly sucking on it. Letting him comfort himself for a few moments she reached over with her free hand and pulled back the blanket to check his diaper, but she paused. His onesie was a little tight around his belly, the fabric straining when he stretched his legs all the way. Had he literally grown overnight? Perhaps this was what all the fuss had been about for the last few days, just a simple growth spurt.

Taking her finger back she swiftly replaced it with his own thumb, giving him a sweet kiss on the top of his head as she rose from the couch. She remembered collapsing here a few hours ago, taking advantage of the fact he had willingly gone to sleep in the rocker, for she wasn't going to risk moving him back into the crib and disturbing him. Leaving him be for now she made her way into the bathroom and made quick work of freshening up, hoping she could manage to take a shower that morning. Or, at least what equated to a shower around here, a sponge bath with a bucket of warm water. The use of warm water was a luxury afford to her as a new mother, the warmth particularly soothing to her swollen breasts and still tender tummy.

Settling for just brushing her teeth, for right now that was about the equivalent of a spa treatment, Carrie made an effort to pull her hair back into a pony tail, and then she was done. Stopping to put another piece of wood onto the fire she made her way into Judith's bedroom, taking a moment to give thanks to her other salvation for sleepless nights, Shania Twain. Wanting some background noise during the day Carrie had been listening to a rotating playlist of CDs borrowed from the Oceanside library, but it was the country singer that got Judith dancing and singing along…though caterwauling might be more adept to describe her singing prowess.

With her newfound love for Shania Twain, Judith had finally returned to sleeping through the night, so long as the CD was playing on repeat at her bedside. After being read to and cuddled she went to sleep listening to her music, and even after Carrie had awoken her to go potty during the night she had willingly gone back to her own bed. She lay there listening to the music again, and when Carrie kissed her goodnight and left she didn't raise a single word of protest.

Carrie was quickly tiring of Shania Twain, but at least it wasn't the dreary country music Rick liked to listen to on his iPod, or Carl's newfound love for hiphop. In Judith's room she opened the drapes to let in a little light and then lowered the volume on the CD player until it was silent, setting the scene for her to wake up when she was ready. Now that she was back to getting a full night of sleep Judith's behaviour had steadily improved, and she seemed much happier in general, even less clingy and needy when Calvin needed Carrie's attention.

Returning to the living room she hastened to try and boil some water, wanting a cup of green tea to start her day, but Calvin would not allow it. He had already spat out his thumb in disapproval, his happy coos now disgruntled sighs followed by a spluttered cry.

"Coming," she said urgently, scrambling for what she needed. A glass of water, piece of fruit, slice of bread - whatever food and drink she could get her hands on in ten seconds she grabbed. "I know, I know. I'm sorry," she apologised, setting her meagre breakfast onto the couch beside her before picking him up from the rocker. "You're just gonna have to give me another minute."

To her relief he seemed to settle now that she had returned, but he still was impatient and unhappy with her when she changed his diaper and removed his clothes, tossing the onesie towards the basket of clothes that someone would collect for laundering. Lifting her shirt she slipped him inside, letting his skin touch hers as he lay between her breasts. For a few minutes more he was patient, twisting and lifting his head to try and see her face. As she gazed down at him she thought of Rick, certain she could see his features echoed in their son. They had attacked the Sanctuary a few days ago, and though Rosita had come down and told them everyone survived the initial fights they had heard nothing of how the war was going. Perhaps it was best that way, but it meant every knock at the door made her heart leap into her throat, hoping that it was Carl and Rick, that they were safe.

Finally Calvin was done waiting, screwing his face up as he lay his head on her chest and gave a loud cry. His lower lip was wobbling dramatically, a sight that made her laugh…it was kind of cute.

"Well go on," she said, moving aside the fabric of her shirt and bringing him to her breast, letting him have the one he seemed to prefer. "It's right there, go on."

Unlike days prior he latched on with no trouble, not causing her any pain or making a fuss of what he was doing. As he started nursing he kept looking up at her, his eyes focusing on her for longer than he used to. As she held his gaze she couldn't get over how in love she was with him, how much it felt like he'd always been with her, he'd always been her son. When he started to fall asleep she gave him a few nudges, tickling the bottom of his feet, and she chuckled at the way he suddenly roused and remembered what he was doing, that he was hungry. Maggie's advice to keep him awake seemed to be helping, helping them break out of the cycle of a newborn who was to tired to eat, but too hungry to sleep.

Carrie managed to watch almost two episodes of Gilmore Girls by the time Judith came stumbling out of her bedroom, blearily rubbing her eyes. By now she had eaten her meagre breakfast and Calvin had moved onto her other side, still nursing without any signs of falling asleep. Struggling to wake Judith staggered over to the couch and climbed up, Carrie welcoming her by lifting an arm and coaxing her to snuggle up at her side. She hadn't woken up well this morning, but she quickly settled once she was warm and comfortable with her mom. While Carrie stroked her hair she was sucking her thumb, whining and lifting her head any time she tried to stop.

"Did you have a good sleep?" Carrie asked a little while later, confident that she was properly awake now.

Judith nodded, her attention now fully on her brother. He was resting happily, laying against Carrie's chest after being winded. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sitting here with you," Carrie answered, though she knew that wasn't quite what Judith meant. "We're going to get some hot water for Calvin to have a bath, and then later you're going to day care."

Judith face lit up, for more reason than one. "My bath?"

She shook her head. "Not today. Enid gave you a bath last night with Herschel."

"But, again?"

"Maybe tomorrow night. It's Calvin's turn today. I'll need you to help me."

Finally Judith seemed satisfied, always seeming to like that Carrie needed her help with something. It was slow going for them, but they managed to get out of the house a little after seven thirty, Carrie putting her pink denim jacket on over her pyjama pants and shirt, while Judith proudly wore her dressing gown and slippers, but no one even looked at their clothing twice. All attention would be on the kids as usual, Calvin in particular who was in the wrap Carrie used to hold him to her chest.

The morning sun warmed her face, another reminder that she couldn't shut herself away for too long, that she only felt worse when she didn't get out. She had to make these small trips, to remind herself that there was a world outside herself, Judith and Calvin. Most of Oceanside were awake and getting on with their day, some people returning from the beach where they had been fishing, others settling in for their shift on watch. After three weeks here she no longer felt like she was the centre of attention every time she went out, for though Calvin did attract a great deal of admiration for the most part it had died down.

Ever the social butterfly Judith hardly remained by Carrie's side, knowing her new community well enough that she didn't hesitate to go racing up to people she knew, telling them good morning or asking her new favourite question, _What are you doing?_ Because of this the short trek across the motor court took longer than it should, but Carrie didn't mind when it meant she got more time soaking up the sun. Gauging the weather she figured it was going to be a nice day, making her think about actually spending some time out here. There was a nice sitting area near the playground where she and Calvin could kick back and sleep. There were always people around supervising the daycare kids, she would feel safe there to close her eyes and be vulnerable…and she could soak up the sun, Calvin too.

Finally making it to the cafe that overlooked the playground she sent Judith out to play, and drawn by the other kids she went willingly. Lingering a few moments Carrie waited until one of the other parents had seen her, giving them a brief wave to let them know she was going inside. It was moments like this that helped make her feel at home here. In Alexandria it wasn't unusual for other parents to depend on their fellow residents to help out, even if it was just watching the kids for a few minutes. It was much the same here at Oceanside, even after the influx of refugees from Alexandria, Hilltop and the Kingdom.

Inside the cafe people were hard at work, the early hour not deterring them in the slightest. The kitchen was bustling with activity, freshly caught fish waiting to be gutted and preserved, others working on preparing breakfast for the masses. In the far corner Henry from the Kingdom was kneading a mound of dough, one of his usual responsibilities from back home. Carrie's heart ached for the young boy, his brother Benjamin's and Richard's deaths serving as the final straw for the Kingdom, the nail in the coffin that drove Ezekiel to join the fight against the Saviours. Though Henry looked well enough there was still an air of misery and grief about him, and she wondered who was looking out for him now. He would never be left to fend for himself, but that was different to having someone looking out for him, loving him like their own.

"Carrie," Natania said loudly, wiping her hands on her apron as she crossed the room. "You're looking well."

In a most surprising turn of events, Natania had undergone a significant change of heart in the last few days. While before she typically kept to herself, angry and resentful of the war Rick had brought her people into, something seemed to have changed. She had taken quite a liking to Carl, and had made a point of ensuring that those with little children like Carrie and Maggie didn't have to lift a finger. Perhaps it was just fondness, of perhaps it was the collective confidence everyone had in the way, in the group groups coming together for their freedom. Despite the risk Natania had to want revenge on Simon, on the Saviours…and now, it would be delivered to her.

"I got some sleep last night," Carrie said gladly, unsurprised when everyone turned their attention to her and Calvin. "I think he's grown. His clothes are a little tight."

"Is that so," Natania murmured kindly, looking down at him with a little smile. "We can weigh him again if you like."

Carrie pressed her lips together, smiling as she looked around at everyone who waited eagerly, wanting to see more of Calvin. She nodded in agreement, unable to resist. While someone cleared a space and another fetched the kitchen scales she carefully lifted him out of the wrap on her chest, proudly watching the way he held his head up and tried to look around. When Harlan was here last week he had done a full check of him, declaring him in perfect health, particularly for babies born these days.

"This greedy guts has put on six more ounces," Natania announced to the room. "Six ounces!"

Not at all surprised Carrie peered at the scales, proud to see he was almost nine pounds now. While he lay there on the scales Natania looked him over too, lifting his shirt and taking a peek at his umbilical cord which was just a stump by now.

"He'll be a young man before you know it," Natania said warmly, passing him back into Carrie's waiting arms. Her hands lingered on him a moment longer, her smile faltering. "It happens too quickly."

"I know," Carrie murmured, feeling like she understood at least a little. It felt like only five minutes ago that she discovered she was pregnant, that she agonised over how and when to tell Rick, and now she had a three week old baby growing before her very eyes.

"You must be wanting some hot water," Natania offered kindly, consulting the schedule pinned to the bulletin board.

"If there is any, please."

"There'll be enough for the two of you," she assured her, sending someone to fetch a bucket. "Have you eaten?"

Assuring her that was all she needed Carrie thanked her, not protesting when someone poured her a much desired cup of tea and sent her outside to wait. Sitting at a table outside she held Calvin in her lap, letting him sit up a little as they watched Judith playing. For those few minutes it felt like they were in the old world, that she was just any other mom watching her kid at the playground. She tried to imagine what life would have been like for her and Rick back then, if they would have lived together in Georgia or if he would have come to New York City, though the latter seemed improbable. Setting aside his dislike of the cold weather, she couldn't imagine him being happy in the metropolis of concrete and skyscrapers. But this was where they were now, and in a funny way it still felt like things had worked out exactly as they were meant to.

"Judy, it's time to go."

Having received her bucket of hot water Carrie hastened to finish her tea, wanting to get home quickly. Putting Calvin back into the wrap she coaxed Judith to come down from the playground, the two of them walking home hand in hand, the small gesture of holding hands making her feel special. When they neared home Enid emerged from her cabin adjacent, pushing Herschel in his stroller for a morning walk.

"Hey," she said cheerfully as they passed one another by. "I'll see you at nine."

At this she frowned, stopping. "For what?"

Enid looked at her perplexed. "Day care? I pick Judy up every morning."

As if a light had switched on Carrie remembered their routine, chuckling at herself. "Right, sorry," she said in embarrassment. "Actually, I'll bring her today. I need to get out of the house again."

"Okay," Enid said, starting her walk again when Herschel gave a grumble of impatience. "Pack her swimsuit, we're playing water games today."

"Good weather for it. Thanks Enid."

As Enid departed Carrie made her way home, not giving herself a hard time for her momentary lapse of memory. Moments like that were just normal these days, particularly given she was sleeping less. Somehow she always managed to keep going when she was tired, but the cracks usually started to show when she tried to hold a conversation with anyone other than a toddler. Getting inside she breathed a sigh of relief, having survived another outing into the world. As she locked the door and secured the chain she reminded herself that it was the small accomplishments that mattered these days.

While Judith amused herself Carrie set about preparing for the day, starting with getting Calvin washed and dressed. Taking some of the hot water she mixed it with cool and a few drops of baby wash, carrying it into the bedroom where it was easiest to work. Finding the room too stuffy she opened the window to let some fresh air through the cabin, reminding herself to do the same with the kitchen window too, for the day was warm enough already. Laying Calvin onto a thick towel she started bathing him from his head down, using a cloth to wipe his face and wet his hair.

He seemed to relish the touch and warmth, particularly so when she spent a little time massaging his scalp. It was nice to have him so happy and content, to see his eyes roll back in his head because he enjoyed the way she was rubbing him down. She'd only given him a proper bath in water once, making Rick hold him in the little tub while she washed him, but when he spent the entire time wailing she had rushed through the process. Maggie had helped her try again a few days ago, hoping that the warm water would soothe him enough to properly fall asleep, but they had both been horribly wrong. A sponge bath on the other hand he didn't seem to mind so much, so for now that's what they were sticking with.

"Judy," she called out, calling her a second time before she came in. "You can find him something to wear."

Please with her task Judith hastened to their small closet, grabbing teeshirts at random and bringing them over to seek Carrie's approval. Finished with his torso she patted him dry and then rubbed a little lotion into his skin, kissing his round belly before bundling him up to keep him warm while she finished the rest of him. When she removed his diaper and socks she admired his tiny feet and toes before getting to work. The cloth was waterlogged, and so she squeezed it to let the warm water dribble down onto his legs the way he seemed to like.

"Oh, shi-" she spluttered, closing her mouth and eyes when she saw a stream of pee rising up towards her. She fumbled to block the flow with her hands, hearing Judith crack up laughing. For a three week old baby he sure was good with his aim, her face, hair and shirt dripping. "Well…mommy should have expected that."

Judith laughed at her again, showing no sympathy as Carrie cleaned herself up as best she could before returning to the task at hand. Now that he seemed to be done she turned him over onto his front, letting him spent some time on his tummy as she wiped him down and then rubbed in some more lotion. Letting Judith help they worked together to rub it into his beautifully soft skin, part of her still sometimes in awe of the fact that he was her son, that she got to keep him. Every now and then she kept expecting someone to knock on her door and tell her that a mistake had been made, that he wasn't her baby and his real mother was coming to take him away…but those moments always passed quickly.

Finishing up with him she turned her attention to Judith, washing her face and dampening her hair with some of the water, and that would have to be enough. Helping her chose some weather appropriate clothes she divided her hair into two plaits and secured them with colourful bobble ties, pleased with herself. Judith was dressed and presentable for daycare, this making her feel satisfied with her morning so far. Some might call the Walkers the end of the world, but these days she preferred to think of it as the start of a new world…it was worth taking pride in their presentation when they could.

"Can you play nicely for a little while?" Carrie asked, though really it was an instruction rather than a question. "I'm having my bath now."

At this she started to whine. "I want a bath too," she whimpered, sticking out her bottom lip.

It was that bottom lip that told Carrie she wasn't genuinely upset, just trying to get her own way. "You have your bath tomorrow," she said firmly, ushering her into the living room where her toys were scattered about. "Play nicely, and then it's time for day care."

Begrudgingly, Judith did as she was told, but not before asking for a bath one more time. Repeating her former answer she settled Calvin down into his little bouncer, sending up a silent plea for him to be happy and content for at least twenty minutes. It wouldn't be long before he was hungry again, maybe an hour at most, and she had to take advantage of every minute she wasn't tied to the couch breastfeeding. Collecting some clean clothes for the day she set them onto the lid of the toilet and then brought in the last of the hot water, the majority of which she had left for herself.

With everything else prepared she moved Calvin's bouncer into the bathroom, wanting to be able to see him as she cleaned up. Making one last check that Judith was playing nicely she retreated to privacy and began undressing, shivering a little. It was colder in here than the living room, the temperature making her lay her shirt on top of Calvin's light blanket to keep him comfortable. Stripped naked she climbed into the small bathtub and settled onto her knees, going about a methodical process that she was well used to. Saturating one cloth in the water she laid it across the top of her chest, letting the warmth soothe her breasts that sometimes felt swollen and sore, while with a small cup she began trickling water through her hair, washing the baby pee and God only knew what else out.

A small squirt shampoo followed by an even smaller squirt of conditioner and her hair was clean, though it was disheartening to see how much of it was coming out now that she had given birth. The books had warned her of this, as had Maggie, but for some reason she was still surprised when her thick locks of hair began to thin, strands coming out no matter how gently she washed and brushed it. At the very least it was a good thing she'd cut it back to her shoulders at the Kingdom's salon, the shortened length making it much easier to maintain when she had only a bucket of water.

Taking her time, for Calvin had nodded off to sleep and she could hear Judith happily playing, Carrie turned her attention to the little luxuries Tara and the others had gifted her. The minty green face mask felt soothing on her tired face, as did the vanilla scrub she used to exfoliate her body. As she took time out to care for herself, the first time she had done so in weeks, she couldn't help but feel particularly good. She was already getting so much done today. Both kids were fed, bathed and dressed, they would make it to daycare on time, the house was untidy but clean, and she'd slept last night.

Today was a good day.

When she washed off the face mask she applied a little of the luxury soap Tara had given her and then washed away the body scrub, keeping track of how much water she had left. Though she was cold she dwelled even longer, shaving her legs for the first time in months. Rick had never complained about it, he was too smart for that, but shaving her legs was a treat all for herself, particularly now that she could reach them. When she approached eight months pregnant Rick had shaved them at her request, him sitting on the bathroom floor while she sat on the edge of the bath tub. Today though, this was all for herself, the feeling of her smooth calves making her feel even more pampered.

Hearing a small commotion from the living room Carrie called out, summoning Judith to the open bathroom door. "What are you doing? You playing nicely?"

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, disappearing back into the living room before just as quickly returning. In her hand she held one of her wooden blocks, a set Carl had made her for Christmas. She raised it up into the air, standing on the tip of her toes as she tried to reach even higher. "I'm making a big one."

"Okay," she said kindly, figuring the sound had been a block tower toppling over.

Sparing not a second more Judith returned to the living room, allowing Carrie to finish up. With every inch of her body washed and exfoliated she carefully stepped out of the tub and began to dry off, still feeling good in general. She liked to think that her recent spate of good luck was a sign of more to come, that the war was reaching its conclusion and her family were going to return safely.

Dressing in a comfortable shirt and her maternity leggings she dried her hair and brushed it, dabbing a little moisturiser onto her face as she scrutinised her appearance in the mirror. Like usual her eyes were a little bloodshot and puffy, the undeniable signs of sleepless nights, but on the most part she looked okay. Certainly it had been an improvement on the more recent days. As if on cue she started to yawn, remembering that despite getting some sleep last night she could always do with some more.

In the living room Judith was squealing in delight, chattering away as the wooden blocks went tumbling down again. While she clapped her hands and continued talking Carrie tidied up in the bathroom, hanging up her towel and then using the last remnants of the warm water to rinse out the bath tub. Still having fifteen or so minutes before she had to leave she rinsed out the wash clothes in the cold water from the tap, giving them a quick wring before hanging them up to dry too. In two days time this process would repeat itself again. Enid would bathe Judith with Herschel when they got their bathing rations, and the next day Carrie would bathe Calvin and herself with her rations. The process worked, and Carrie didn't have to pretend she was capable of taking care of all of it herself.

"You're a good boy sleeping for Mommy," she crooned, carefully scooping Calvin out of the bouncer.

He roused a little when she picked him up, but it was a risk she had no choice but to make if she had any intention of leaving the house. Standing barefoot on the cold bathroom tiles she adjusted the swaddle, holding him close against her chest just the way he liked as she talked to him softly, lulling him back to sleep. It worked, and as his eyes closed she stepped around the bouncer and into the living room where Judith was playing. She would cuddle him for a little while longer, she couldn't help herself, but then she would put him into the stroller's bassinet so they could go out. Soon enough she would have delivered Judith to daycare and be stretched out on the sun lounge resting, Calvin alongside her.

"Judy, what bathing suit do you…"

Carrie's words died in her mouth, trailing off as her body turned cold. At first all she saw was the shadowy figure rising from the floor, a figure larger than Maggie and Enid, the only people who would come into her cabin without invitation. But as they rose she saw the familiar leather jacket that quickly connected the dots, bringing into focus the face of someone she thought she'd never have to see again.

Straightening up Negan looked at her apologetically, almost acknowledging the intrusion, but Carrie could barely fathom it. He absolutely looked terrible, clutching one arm close to his body he stood in the middle of her living room as if it was nothing, but when he reached the other out Carrie stumbled away from him. Her body dissolved into panic, her mind going a hundred miles an hour as the walls starting closing in, her knees weakening.

She was in danger…her children were not safe. Her body had already tensed to flee, her heart beating so hard it hurt and her stomach churning as if she would be sick, but she couldn't move. She simply stared at Negan open mouthed, terror rendering her mute.

"Please…don't scream."

* * *

Ahh, a big exciting chapter. I waited so so long to get to this stage, to have our characters face off one more time, and then Negan and Carrie's final meeting.

I seriously hope you loved the chapter, please oh please leave me a review! What did you think of Negan's decision to let Rick live?


	75. Chapter 75

Everything hurt…his stomach, his ribs, his head…his spirit.

In the back seat of the car Rick was slumped over against the door, holding his body at awkward angles to keep the ice packs in place. One on his ribs, his stomach and head, holding them in place all the while trying to keep his right arm elevated, to let the swelling in his broken arm settle as quickly as possible. It hurt to breathe, to even open his eyes, but in a day or so he would be alright, at least according to the complete stranger who sat beside him.

Sitting in the back seat beside him was a timid faced man he'd never laid eyes on before. He wasn't one of the many allies who had been fighting with them, he wasn't yet another person who lived at the Kingdom, Rick had genuinely never seen this man before. Yet there he was sitting right beside him, his frightened eyes constantly darting towards Carl in the front seat.

"How are you feeling?" the man hesitantly asked, looking him up and down.

Rick ignored him, though it wasn't a conscious decision to do so. Instead of answering he simply closed his eyes, trying to get past the shell shocked feeling that wouldn't go away. Less than an hour ago he was on his knees in front of Negan, about to suffer the same cruel death and Glenn and Abraham, but it hadn't happened. Memories of the incident were fuzzy, he couldn't quite remember what was said between them, but he recalled the visceral yell Negan gave when he stepped away. He had slammed Lucille into one of the decorative columns, hitting it again and again as if in the midst of a childish tantrum, a toddler not getting his own way. But there had been nothing to stop Negan from killing him, he had the perfect opportunity. So why hadn't he?

Did he think Rick might spare him in return? He would be sorely mistaken.

"Rick," the man called his name, snapping his fingers by his ear. "I want you to give me your full attention."

Opening his eyes he looked over at the man. "What?" he said tersely. Despite a brief moment of assertiveness the man became nervous again, looking towards Carl once more and affirming Rick's suspicion that they knew one another. "How do you know my son?" he demanded, sitting up a little. The ice pack slipped down from the side of his head, but he didn't care.

"Best to let him explain," he murmured quietly, trailing off and clearing his throat. He held up one finger. "Follow my finger with your eyes. Please, Rick…you've got a head injury, probably a bad concussion. I need to assess you."

Cooperation was easier than arguing, and so he followed the man's finger with his eyes, still glancing between him and Carl. Something was going on, somehow the two of them were connected, but his mind felt so fuzzy and heavy he couldn't quite put two and two together.

"Tell me your full name."

"Rick Grimes."

"And how old are you?"

This took a moment to compute. His birthday had just passed, but it had been fleeting. He hadn't paid attention to the passing of another year. "Thirty nine."

"Repeat after me, and speak clearly. Bigger business isn't better business."

He recited the words, dimly noting that his speech wasn't slurred now. His stomach twisted as he thought about the fight with Negan, how helpless he was as he lay there on the kitchen floor flopping about like a fish on dry land. He couldn't call out for help, he couldn't make himself get up…

"What month is it?"

"April."

"Woah…April," the man murmured. "And who am I?"

Narrowing his eyes Rick felt his hackles raise. "I have no God damn idea," he said sharply.

"O-okay, I'll give you that. I'm Saddiq."

That explanation was insufficient. "Carl, who the hell is this guy?" he demanded.

From the drivers seat Daryl gave a snort of derision. "I'd like to know too."

Clearly uncomfortable with the line of questioning, Carl avoided looking at either of them. "He's a friend."

"A friend he's been keepin' in the sewers like some creepy pet," Daryl accused.

At this Rick turned his attention back to the man, Saddiq, looking at him in astonishment. Perhaps he was right. He must be badly concussed, for there was no way his son would do something so reckless. Quite uncomfortable with the whole situation Saddiq tentatively reached out and took the ice pack, helping him hold it against the side of his head.

Unable to wrap his head around it Rick went back to looking out the window, bitter with disappointment. The war was over, and they were on their way to liberate whoever was left at the Sanctuary. He ought to be on top of the world, celebrating the end of the war. Tonight he would go down to Oceanside, he would be with his family again and tell Carrie that she didn't have to worry anymore. Finally they could go back to their lives…or what was left of it anyway.

But Negan got away, fleeing like a coward and killing Sasha who tried to stop him. But at the very least he was injured, the smears of blood on Rick's side door and the inside of the walls where he climbed over evidence of that. If he survived that he'd be lucky, especially being on his own right now. Maybe one day they'd find his corpse ambling around outside Alexandria, snarling, biting and still creating misery even in death. One way or another he'd end up back at Alexandria, guarding the front gates and warning anyone else who tried to screw with them in the future.

As they drew closer to the Sanctuary Rick opened his eyes again, taking a tentative sip of water. On his mind were those thirty nine men and women imprisoned at Hilltop. How were they ever going to be reintroduced to this world without the risk of another uprising? Killing them now would be cold blooded execution, just like Negan would. No matter how hard he tried Rick couldn't justify killing them like that, not after they'd been showing relatively good behaviour according to the Hilltop. It was stupid of the allies to accept their surrender at the outpost…they should have just killed them on sight, justifying it as the heat of the battle.

There was a familiar flurry when they arrived at the Sanctuary, Daryl reaching for his crossbow while Carl turned around, advising Saddiq to stay in the car. He too getting ready Rick discarded the ice packs and sat up, flinching in discomfort. His broken arm was set and in a splint, but despite a good dose of pain relief it still hurt like hell. Everything hurt, but when they pulled to a stop and everyone began filing out of their cars he gained a second wind. He joined them quickly, holding his Colt at the ready as he advanced on one of the prisoners, Alden. Among many others who deserved a bullet Alden was a lone voice of reason, his temperament responsible for keeping his fellow prisoners on their best behaviour.

"You ready?" Rick asked. As a show of good faith he removed the handcuffs around his wrists.

Knowing there was only one acceptable answer, Alden nodded his head. "Ready."

Taking him by the arm Rick escorting him into the Sanctuary, following the others who had gone in first. The Walkers had already been cleared out by Negan's escape, but the workers left behind had yet to start clearing the dead that had been piled up to create safe passage. It was only just after sunrise after all, though Rick didn't think that many would have been trying to get a good night's sleep after recent events. The ground was littered with broken glass, blood and gore, empty shell casings and perfectly good ammunition that had been tossed from the windows. All of it would have to be salvaged, for despite their good supply none of it could be wasted…and none could make it into the hands of any Saviours left alive.

When they entered the Sanctuary Rick's eyes took a few moments to adjust to the dim light. He had heard shouting as they approached, but as he entered with one of their own held at gunpoint the entire population settled. For a few minutes there was the murmur of low conversation broken by the occasional shout, his people already sweeping through the Sanctuary and bringing everyone downstairs. The workers and innocent people were promptly swept to one side of the cavernous room that had to be the marketplace he'd heard much about, while on the other side was a group of men and women being sent down to their knees. The few soldiers Negan had left behind had surrendered with very little fuss, handing over their weapons and kneeling with little protest. Surely they had to have known this day was coming.

Waiting until he got the all clear from his people he surveyed the scene before him, taking the mood of the room as he continued holding Alden at gunpoint. Everyone was simply waiting, their faces tired and beaten down. Most of these people were workers, subjugated to Negan's will like the other communities…problem was they hadn't been able to escape. Lana had tried, but still she ended up right back here again.

"We're all clear," Carol said as she walked past him. "Daryl's gone down to the cells to find Lana. I'm going with him."

"Thank you," he murmured, grateful for her. They were holding out hope that Lana was alright, but if it was the worst he just hoped Daryl wasn't alone when he found her dead, that he didn't have to go through that without someone by his side.

He turned his attention back to the people who were clearly waiting for him to say something, to decide their fate. But that wasn't really his decision to make. The war itself had always been his domain, but as for what would come after, he had never quite been sure. Preparing to speak he looked to the people at his side, the people who had fought with him to guarantee they would reach this moment.

"This is Cyndie," Rick began, starting with her. "Last year you knew her as Quincy's group, the people Simon murdered. This is King Ezekiel from the Kingdom, and this is Jesus from the Hilltop. I'm Rick Grimes, from Alexandria." He paused now, still bitter with disappointment. "Negan is gone."

A sweeping murmur followed this announcement, but it was difficult to gauge the sentiment. Shock? Sadness? Relief? Everyone was looking around and whispering to one another, perhaps not quite believing what he said, and so he continued.

"We warned Negan to surrender, but he refused. A few hours ago he brought people to Alexandria, and they were killed. Negan ran, and he won't come back. If he does, he'll be executed."

Just as he anticipated the news that Negan's people had all been killed was met with a startled reaction, the whispers turning into gasps of horror. At the back one person stood up and shouted angrily, their voice and face fraught with grief that Rick just couldn't connect with right now. This was pain that Negan had caused, not him.

"The days of the Sanctuary subjugating other communities and its own people are over," he declared, his words met with murmurs of agreement from those beside him. "The fighting is done. You're free," he said, directing this statement only to the workers on the left side of the room. "You can go wherever you like, you can join one of our communities. But you're not staying here."

"And the rest of us?" one of the soldiers demanded, one who had shouted before. He was getting to his feet again, lowering his hands in anger. "Are we free?"

With a short nudge Alden stepped forward, clearing his throat before addressing the soldiers. "Anyone who fought for Negan will be coming to the Hilltop with me to join the other prisoners," he declared, trying to keep his tone soft and non confrontational. "I've been appointed to advocate on everyone's behalf. We all get to defend ourselves individually, and then the four leaders will decide what happens to us."

"Are you going to kill us?" a red headed woman asked.

Recognising her as Paula, Rick's first thought was _at the first opportunity_. But he held his tongue, taking a more measured approach. "If you give us reason to, yes. We will kill you."

"A-and the takeaway from that," Alden hastily interjected, his voice wavering with nerves. "Is that we're all given a second chance. No one is on death row."

Silence followed, allowing Rick a few moments to look around, to gauge the room. Finally someone on the left hand side raised their hand, and when he pointed to them and nodded they slowly got to their feet. It was a middle aged woman, and it startled him to see that she was heavily pregnant.

"What about everyone else?"

"The children evacuated are safe," he reassured them. "They'll be returned to their family as soon as possible."

"N-no…everyone else."

Rick paused, realising that some hadn't quite understood the gravity of what the war meant. "There is no one else."

Again he was met with absolute silence, the gravity of these words sinking in. Slowly the whispers started to grow, some of outrage and anger, others of fear…but intertwined in there was a growing sentiment of relief. Their future was uncertain, particularly for some, but finally there was hope for a life outside the Sanctuary, outside Negan's reign and influence. But like all things worth fighting for, it had come at a serious cost.

"Arrest them," he instructed his people, gesturing to the soldiers on their knees.

This instruction was met with a few cries of protest, an older man from the left of the room rushing forward, calling out to someone, perhaps a daughter. But Rick was undeterred, and the woman he was calling to seemed to understand, telling the old man to go back. For a moment Rick lingered and watched as his people moved forward and bound everyone's hands behind their back with cable ties, lining them up as Alden made his way around them, offering reassurances and imploring them to cooperate.

Rick was exhausted, too tired to even stay and look around, to continue leading these people. Ezekiel, Jesus and Cyndie were equipped to handle it without him and so he departed, Carl quickly falling into step by his side as he made his way back outside. When he emerged back into the morning sunshine he started to breathe a sigh of relief, for although he did not have the satisfaction and relief of Negan's death, finally he could say that this was over for them. It would take some time for that notion to really hit home, for in the coming weeks and months there were a lot of pieces to pick up, a lot of displaced people who needed to be re-homed or put to trial, but the worst of it was over. By some miracle he had made it out alive, as had his family…finally he could go back and be with them.

"Did you really mean that, Dad? That those people can join us?"

Rick nodded, this having been their plan all along. "Yes, I meant it."

"And the soldiers? They get a trial?"

At this he grit his teeth, for this had not been his plan, it was not what he wanted. But what came after the war was not for him to decide, it was a collective decision, and though he, Daryl and Cyndie had voted to exile and execute the majority of the soldiers, they were mostly alone in that preference.

"Yes," he answered. "They all get a trial. They all get to defend themselves."

Carl breathed out in relief. "Thanks, Dad."

"For what?"

"For not killing them," he said, looking at him as though the answer had been obvious.

This statement made him feel uncomfortable, an old fear stirring in the back of his mind. Was that how Carl saw him? Nothing more than an executioner? "I don't want to kill anyone, Carl. I never have."

He nodded, appearing to understand. "You just wanted them to stop killing us."

"Yes. It's over now…it's done."

When they arrived back at the car Saddiq moved over to the window, politely asking if he could get out for some fresh air, but Rick bluntly refused him. Turning his back to him he leant against the door and looked at Carl in scrutiny, folding his arms across his chest.

"Would you care to explain yourself?" he asked pointedly. "You've been keeping a person in the sewer?"

Quite uncomfortable with the line of questioning, Carl braced himself as he answered. "Well, not all the time. Only when our people were around."

Not yet satisfied with the explanation Rick held his gaze, waiting expectantly.

"I met him the other day, out in the woods," he began to explain. "He was hungry, he didn't have any water. I had to help him, so I brought him home."

"Home? To _our_ home?"

Carl nodded, standing his ground. "I was careful with him, and I asked him the questions. Two hundred and thirty seven walkers, give or take. And he's only killed one person, out of mercy. I was careful, Dad. I really was."

Not doubting that he was careful, but still disapproving of his naivety, Rick didn't quite know what to say. "Two hundred and thirty seven walkers is not a lot," he commented, glancing into the car at Saddiq. "Why the low count?"

"He's a doctor, so his group always tried to protect him. He's a doctor, Dad. If he came to Alexandria a month ago Carrie never would have gone in the RV that night. She wouldn't have been there, she wouldn't have been taken. We need Saddiq."

"That's not the issue here. You can't…" Rick trailed off. He'd been about to say _you can't keep him_ , like he was a stray dog Carl found wandering the streets in King County. This was a human being…a doctor who had already treated his injuries and broken arm without hesitation. "I don't even know this person. We can't just…"

The sound of rushed footsteps made him trail off again, and there was a commotion as two people came sprinting out of the Sanctuary. It was Dianne and Carol, each step kicking up broken glass and debris in their haste. Immediately sensing that someone was wrong Rick reached for his Colt in its holster, waiting to hear shouts and resistance from those inside.

"He knows where Carrie is!" Carol shouted at him as she ran for the nearest car. "Negan knows."

Rick frowned at her in disbelief, slowly straightening up. "What do you mean?"

The door to the Sanctuary burst open again, and this time it was Daryl and Lana who emerged. In that split second he looked her over, relieved to see that although a little pale she appeared unharmed. But a split second was all he could spare her given the look of urgency on her face, an expression echoed by Daryl two paces ahead of her.

"Negan," Daryl said shortly, opening the drivers side door and tossing his crossbow inside. "He knows about Oceanside."

"Vetor told him," Lana explained, doubled over and catching her breath. "He told him over a year ago when I helped them get away. When he saw Cyndie fighting with us Negan figured we probably had people down at Oceanside."

"No," he denied, his mind numb with disbelief. Oceanside was safe…that's why he asked Carrie to go there in the first place. "He can't know."

"He does!" Daryl shouted at him, rounding the car and opening the passenger side door. "C'mon!"

Tyres were squealing from the other car as Carol took off, Michonne beside her in the passenger seat, and in barely an instant they were speeding away. It was only that sight that made Rick's mind click, realising the disastrous situation they faced. Negan was unaccounted for, and he knew exactly where Carrie was, the woman he had repeatedly asked to see. In that moment his world began to spiral out of control, feeling like the sky was literally going to come crashing down. It was only Daryl shouting at him again and yanking him towards the car that made him do something.

"If he found a car he's already halfway there," Dianne stated, waiting for Cyndie and Lana who were joining her car. "We're already an hour behind him."

Daryl was shaking his head, rushing back around to the drivers side. "Nah, there's still time. We just gotta get in range of their radios."

Silently sinking into the front passenger seat Rick felt bile rising in his throat, heart plummeting into the pit of his stomach. They had cars all around Alexandria fully stocked with gas and supplies, there should Carl need them while he was waiting out for last night, ready should anyone in Alexandria need to make a quick escape…had Negan found one? If he had it would have been by chance, he might not even have it in him to manage a three hour drive with the injury he had sustained…maybe they'd find him stopped on the side of the highway somewhere, crashed into tree dead in the driver's seat. Or maybe they were scared without reason, maybe he hadn't found a car or was already laying dead somewhere, and they'd get to Oceanside in a huge panic only to find everything was fine.

Daryl gave an angry shout of frustration, slamming his palms agains the steering wheel when he saw they were low on gas. Knowing exactly where to find it he practically flew out of the driver's seat and set off around the exterior of the Sanctuary, summoning Saddiq to help him who followed without question. Meanwhile Rick lingered in the front seat, leaning forward and putting his head in his hand. From the back Carl was trying to offer him comfort, to tell him it was going to be okay, but he could barely hear him.

Maybe this was it, the inevitable pay off for making it through the war. Calvin was born healthy and Carrie had survived his birth, their family happy and ready to live a long life together…was this the balancing of the world? Was this the price Rick had to pay for the success of the war?

"Dad, he won't hurt them," Carl said urgently, leaning through from the back seat. "We know Negan…he won't hurt them."

Rick nodded only to relay the reassurance back to Carl, not because he was ready to put any kind of faith in Negan. There was no telling what he might have in mind, if he really just wanted to see her like he had repeatedly asked, or if his plans were more sinister. His stomach clenched as he remembered all the innuendos Negan had made about Carrie, the things he would say about wanting her.

 _It's a beautiful family you had Rick. They're mine now._

* * *

Straightening up Negan looked at her apologetically, almost acknowledging the intrusion, but Carrie could barely fathom it. He absolutely looked terrible, clutching one arm close to his body he stood in the middle of her living room as if it was nothing, but when he reached the other out Carrie stumbled away from him. Her body dissolved into panic, her mind going a hundred miles an hour as the walls starting closing in, her knees weakening.

She was in danger…her children were not safe. Her body had already tensed to flee, her heart beating so hard it hurt and her stomach churning as if she would be sick, but she couldn't move. She simply stared at Negan open mouthed, terror rendering her mute.

"Please…don't scream."

She tried to. She opened her mouth to scream for her life, calling for the people on watch who were never too far from her cabin, for Maggie next door, for Rick hundreds of miles away…but nothing came out. Instead she stood there mute, mind screaming at her to do something even as her body stood paralysed. All she could do was look, her eyes going from him to Judith to Calvin, trying to figure this out, looking for the solution. Her eyes darted towards the kitchen and the small safe on the counter that held her gun, her mind taking her to the bedroom closet where a gun was kept up top…neither of them were in reach.

There was so much she wanted to say, but all she could get out was a pathetic whisper of "You need to go."

He grimaced a little, still standing hunched over. "I know. Thing is…I can't."

Carrie looked at him in fear, her eyes still darting around. This was a joke. Surely this was a sick joke. "Why not?"

"I…" Negan began, trailing off as if he'd lost his breath. "I just need to see you. Please."

She just stood there in disbelief, watching the scene unfolding in front of her. Judith was running around collecting the blocks that scattered when the tower fell, eagerly piling them up for the next build, not a care in the world. Carrie on the other hand was frozen, rooted to this very spot and unable to do a thing. She couldn't even scream, she wouldn't be able to summon the breath around her heart which pounded painfully hard. Her body was trembling, the only steady part of her being her arms which cradled Calvin.

At this though she glanced down at her son, heart leaping into her throat as memories of the Sanctuary came flooding back at her. She'd never quite been sure if they were just trying to torment her or if people really meant it when they said Negan wanted a boy, that he had taken her from her group in order to take her baby. Holding him a little more tightly to her chest she looked back at Negan, critically scrutinising him. The cabin was comfortably warm thanks to the fireplace, yet despite this he still wore his black leather jacket, and the way he held it against himself seemed to be an attempt to bleeding from some kind of injury. There was dried blood all over his hands, his white tee-shirt heavily stained with it, and in the brief time he'd been here droplets of blood had fallen to the carpet.

At the sight of him she started to panic even more, suddenly feeling like it was impossible to breathe. The blood on his hands, the cuts and bruises on his face, some of it old and some of it new…he'd been in a fight. Something had happened.

"Is Rick dead?" Is that why he was here? Had Negan killed him? "Is he dead?" she shouted, visibly startling Judith.

Finally Negan shook his head, albeit slowly. "I was going to kill him," he admitted softly, looking her in the eye. "Was gonna take his head off and bring it here, but I…couldn't." There was a long pause as he looked at her, his discomfort appearing to grow when she said nothing. "Would have been like clubbing a baby seal."

"Where is he?"

"Beats me," Negan sighed, grimacing again as he pressed his arm harder against his side. "Probably making his merry fucking way to the Sanctuary to give them the bad news."

He doesn't know Negan's here…of course he doesn't know. "Is he alright?"

"Last I saw he was still breathin'," he sought to assure her. "Seeing double though, which can't have been fun while I'm standing over him with Lucille."

She swallowed heavily as she looked towards the front door, seeing that he'd left Lucille there. It was covered in blood as usual, marking the carpet where it rested, and she prayed it was only Walker blood. Her heart leapt when Judith walked right past it to retrieve a stray block, paying it little to no attention when she passed by a second time, and Carrie had to resist the urge to rush over and seize her by the arm. But she felt like she shouldn't move, that she needed to stay perfectly still as if that would avert danger for them all.

"Full disclosure," Negan began, grunting as he slowly sat down on the edge of the coffee table. "I've been lurking outside your bedroom window, waiting for the right moment."

She was sickened by the thought he had been loitering outside, spying on her. "And this was the right moment? While I'm naked in the bathroom?"

"I was waiting for the baby to fall asleep." He paused, his gaze falling upon Calvin who still lay sleeping in her arms. "She told me his name is Cal."

"Calvin," she bluntly corrected.

"He's beautiful."

She didn't know what to say to that, remembering how vehement she and Rick had been about Negan not knowing anymore about their son than he had to. It felt like the only way they could protect him from this monster, to make sure he never brought his misery close to their children…closer than he already had at least. How had Negan even made it here through the woods, through all the Walker traps and past the guards? Had he hurt someone on his way in?

At the mention of her little brother Judith pointed up at him, eagerly repeating his name to Negan. The moment she came close enough Carrie reached down and seized her by the wrist, pulling her away from Negan even as she whined. She looked up at Carrie in confusion, attempting to tug her arm free as she began to protest.

"You don't have to do that. I'm her friend. She knows me."

"Too well it seems," Carrie said lowly, attempting to take control of this situation. "I want you to leave. Now."

Negan just looked at her, a small flash of approval appearing in his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Then why are you here?"

At this question he gave a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping as he looked down at the carpet. "It's over. Rick…he got me."

"So? What do you expect to happen now?" she demanded, infuriated when he said nothing. "Why are you here?"

When she shouted this last part Judith lurched in surprise, having never liked the sound of raised voices. She tried to tug her hand out of Carrie's grip again, her other hand poorly attempting to pry Carrie's grip apart. "Mom," she whined in frustration, yanking as hard as she could. "Mom! I want out."

"I'm not going to hurt her," Negan implored. "You know I'm not. I'm not going to hurt anyone."

"Why did you come here?"

Negan floundered for a moment, and it was a sight quite unbecoming of the man who was normally so in control of himself, so self assured. "I just wanted to see you one more time, that's all," he admitted, sounding like he was pleading with her. With his free hand he reached into his jacket pocket, rummaging around. "I brought a gift for your boy. I was going to give it to you wh-"

"I don't want your gift!" Carrie snapped at him. "I don't want anything from you but your ass out the front door!"

At this Judith finally dissolved into tears of frustration, letting out a spluttered cry as she sank down to her knees. With her arm still in Carrie's grip she knelt on the carpet at her feet, tears spilling from her eyes as she began to sob. She pleaded with her again, straining to free her arm as she grew red in the face, but Carrie did not relent. How could she?

"You gonna let her cry like that?"

"It won't hurt her."

"Neither will I," he repeated. "Give me what I want, and things will be peachy again real soon."

Spluttering, Carrie looked at him in disbelief. But what could she do? The sound of Judith crying wasn't going to raise the alarm, it was a perfectly normal sound and Negan wasn't going anywhere. She was struggling in frustration, still trying to pry Carrie's fingers from around her wrist, and at the sound of her protests Calvin began to respond, taking a deep breath as his eyes began to flutter. Without consciously deciding to do so she let go of Judith's hand, because what else could she possibly do right now? She was cornered by him, blocked from her only exit and defenceless without a weapon.

It took a few moments for Judith to settle down, and she looked up at Carrie as if she had done something terrible to her. Ignoring her for now she got to her feet and turned her full attention to Negan, tearfully wiping her face as she went to him. Pleased to get his own way he had shuffled down from the coffee table to the living room floor, looking genuinely happy and at ease. Meanwhile Carrie just stood there, not knowing what to do. Did she really think he would leave after playing with Judith for a while. A quick look around indicated he had closed all the windows and drawn the drapes, the only door locked with the chain lock Rick had been reminding her to use. No one was getting in there unless Negan allowed them, and he was settling in for a stay.

Needing to collect her thoughts she slowly sank down to a chair at the table, and she could tell Negan relaxed a little more now. She had no choice but to wait this out, and hopefully he would keep bleeding and eventually lose consciousness. He and Judith started to play quietly, and Carrie had no choice but to wait and watch the clock.

"Judy has to go to daycare soon," she said, noting that it was almost nine. "People will notice. They'll figure out that you're here."

"Let them figure it out," he said nonchalantly. "I'm not on the run. I know it's the end for me."

In her arms Calvin was fast asleep again, his little wriggles managing to free one arm from the swaddle. Grunting softly to himself he lay there content, his free hand curled into a fist by his cheek. He must be loving this, that Carrie was holding him in her arms while he slept, that he was close to her. A little while ago she had noticed him rousing, but though he had opened his eyes and smacked his lips he had almost immediately gone back to sleep. Any time he made even the smallest sound or movement Negan would look up at him, his gaze lingering as he admired him. It was no different to the way anyone else admired Calvin, marvelling over how small and cute he was. But unlike when other people admired him Carrie's heart did not swell with pride. Trying to be subtle about it she readjusted her arms, shielding Calvin's face from his gaze. Negan had no right even looking at her children.

"I'm not gonna lie, it hurt that you ran away from the Sanctuary," he said lightly, taking one of the toys Judith passed to him. "I was going to take you home, I told you that. You didn't trust me?

"I did," she reluctantly admitted. "But I wasn't going to leave Daryl there."

Negan sighed in annoyance, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "Always came down to him, didn't it," he muttered. "You were both the same…anything for the other."

"He's my family, just as much as Rick. Just as much as Glenn and Abraham."

"Who?"

This commented infuriated her. "The two people you murdered that night. People who left behind families. Children."

He ignored this comment. The wooden blocks had been set aside in favour of the railway set, Judith emptying the pieces out of the box and diligently assembling them. It was taking her a little time to work through the problem of trying to find the right pieces, but with Negan's encouragement was was persisting. She was confused at times, getting frustrated when the pieces wouldn't fit together and when Negan wouldn't help her, but her face lit up in satisfaction when she got it right. In minutes the train tracks came together, spanning the width of the living room in a winding circle, and now she fumbled about with the trains themselves.

"I love them at this age," Negan commented wistfully. "Love watching them figure shit out…getting it right all by themselves. Almost as good as when they're teenagers."

Carrie said nothing at first. Judith had come over to her with the two trains, showing her the empty battery cavity and asking for help. "What's so good about teenagers?" she asked, sending Judith to fetch the batteries.

"Perseverance," he said simply, leaning back against the wall. "Nothing made me happier than seeing the fat kid climb the rope after falling on their ass every other class."

 _No way…no way in hell._ "You were a teacher?" she questioned in disbelief.

"Gym teacher," he answered. "I liked the dumb ones. Some of us ain't built for math and English, but pitching a ball or throwin' a football, that just takes practice. Perseverance. You kick their ass just right, they'll do anything…even if it's just putting together a railway track."

As she slipped the batteries into the trains Carrie tried to imagine Negan walking the halls of a school, coaching kids in gym, subbing in when the math teacher was sick…she just couldn't picture it. But for all his faults, she hadn't known him to tell blatant lies. Perhaps this explained his fondness of Carl, a young man with exactly the qualities Negan said he admired. She cast her mind back to her time at the Sanctuary, to the night when she'd awoken to the all consuming agony of a leg cramp. Negan had known exactly what to do, had leapt over the bed and begun massaging the spasmed muscle. If he really was a gym teacher he would be experienced with sports injuries and muscle cramps, but still she couldn't quite make the connection. Now one was surprised to learn that Rick had been a cop or that she was a business executive, but Negan as a school teacher?

"Watch this," Judith said eagerly, barely sparing Carrie a thanks when she loaded the batteries. Eager to play she raced over to Negan, standing by his side and slowly lowering the train onto the tracks. It took off around the circuit with a high pitched whistle, the lights flashing. "Are you watching?"

"I'm watching."

She hurried around to the other side of the track, standing there in delight as the train passed her by. "Are you watching?"

Negan chuckled at her. "I'm watching, Sweet Heart. Promise."

Excited, she passed Negan the other train and told him to put it on the track. She was grinning ear to ear when he did as she instructed, giggling as she started following it around.

"I'm catching you," she declared, pointing to his train which was a little slower.

"Catching me? Is that one me?"

"That's you."

Indeed the first train was slowly closing in on the second, and she laughed uproariously when they finally connected and the slower one derailed. While Negan applauded Judith looked up at Carrie to see her reaction too, but she faltered a little now. Perhaps she sensed that something was wrong, because for a split second she stared at Carrie perplexed, but her concern passed quickly. She was too overjoyed by the company to worry about anything else, and she just continued playing. Picking up the slow train she passed it to Negan to put down again, fetching other parts of the set such as the tunnels and station. Going about her favourite activities she found Calvin's knitted Gremblygunk and set it on top of the train, laughing again when the tunnel knocked it off.

Calvin emitted a rather loud grunting noise, one that captured the attention of everyone in the room. Looking down at him Carrie watched as his eyes fluttered, his legs moving around as he wrestled to free his other arm from the swaddle, but he was unsuccessful. For a few moments he quietened, but after a few more grunts he pulled his legs up close to his body, and a delicate rumble from his diaper seemed to settle him.

"He's my brother," Judith said proudly, noticing the attention was on Calvin. She strolled over now, sweetly fussing over his swaddle as he continued grunting and making noises. "He's mine, see?"

Uncomfortable with the way Negan was still staring at him Carrie continued trying to shield Calvin's face with her hand. "Get his diaper bag," she murmured to Judith, pointing to the stroller.

"Is it a poop?" she asked, cheerfully doing as she was told. "A big poop?"

Ignoring the question Carrie slowly rose to her feet, staring Negan down as she ushered Judith into the main bedroom. Why wouldn't he just leave? Didn't he realise he wasn't wanted here? Hoping he would just take this opportunity to go she laid Calvin onto the bed and unwrapped his swaddle, but the air on his legs seemed to rouse him a little. Her hands trembled as she undressed him and prepared to change the diaper, and her eyes kept near constant watch over Negan. To her dismay he didn't move an inch, he stayed exactly where he was leaning against the wall, bleeding onto her carpet.

It was this thought that she clung to, that he was still bleeding. All she had to do was wait him out. Soon enough he'd lose consciousness and she could leave, she could get her gun and shoot him, finally end this for everyone.

At this thought she glanced up towards her closet, thinking of the gun she had up there. She needed to get her hands on it. Making quick work of the task she changed Calvin's diaper and wrapped him into the swaddle once more, but it was then she hesitated. She ought to put him into the crib, getting him away from Negan's reach and gaze, but something told her to keep him close, to not let him out of her sight. While Judith took the dirty nappy and raced out to dispose of it in the kitchen trash Carrie scooped Calvin up and held him against her chest, bouncing him to help him settle after his eyes had started to open. For a few moments she stood there in her room looking out at Negan, unnerved by the way he continued watching her. Why wouldn't he just leave?

Wishing she didn't have to do this she slowly made her way to the closet and opened the door, her whole body shaking as she reached to the highest shelf for the gun. But she faltered when she felt only dust on the shelves, her heart falling still as it skipped a beat in horror…her gun wasn't there. Standing on the tip of her toes she reached further up, certain it had been there when she checked it yesterday. In a rush she slammed the door shut and looked out at Negan again, noting the apologetic shrug he gave her.

"I tossed it out the window," he said shortly, forcing a smile when Judith returned to his side to continue playing. "Like I said, I'm not here to hurt you."

Carrie stood there in disbelief, feeling cheated that he had been in here for so long while she was in the bathroom cleaning up. She imagined him prowling around here knowing that Judith wouldn't raise the alarm, looking at the polaroid photos she had put up on the wall, Judith's pictures and paintings displayed on the mini fridge. No doubt he was trying to insert himself into their family, perhaps pretending for a moment that he was a part of it…everyone suspected that his feelings towards her had been less than platonic. Was that why he was here?

"I want you to leave," she said calmly, returning to the living room. She stared him down, not breaking eye contact. "You've had your fun, now go."

He shook his head, picking up one of the trains and turning it around on the tracks. "I'm not done yet."

Carrie was screaming on the inside - it took everything she had to continue placating him, too afraid of what he might do if she was anything less than cooperative. "When will you be done?"

He took a moment to answer, but when he did he continued holding her gaze, not looking away. "Can I hold him? Please," he added, his tone of voice soft.

"What?" she blurted out incredulously. She almost laughed in his face, almost mocked him for even having to nerve to ask, but somehow she managed to hold her tongue. "No."

"You know I wouldn't hurt him," he implored, not ashamed of the fact he was practically pleading with her. "Not a million years would I hurt your little boy. I just…just want to hold him."

"No."

His disappointment was evident in that he tried to hide it. Without missing a beat he instantly turned his attention back to Judith, laughing with her as the trains derailed again, but Carrie could see the hurt in his eyes. He had some nerve to think she would even consider letting him put his hands on her baby.

"I noticed Carl stopped wearing that bandage," he commented lightheartedly, trying to pick up the conversation again. "Don't let him put it back on. He looks completely bad ass."

Resuming her seat at the table, Carrie glanced down to make sure Calvin had drifted back off to sleep. "And yet we were more concerned for his health and self esteem."

Negan shrugged, brushing this off. "He's a teenager. He won't have much self-esteem until the first time he gets his dick wet, and even then it's temporary. Your boy will be fine," he added. "He's got confidence. Swag, as the kids used to call it."

"Thank you, I'll stop worrying then."

"You don't need to worry about that boy. Hell, he's not a boy, he's a man now. You know Rick paraded him out at Alexandria? Had him trying to talk me down?"

"He wasn't talking you down," Carrie sneered. "He was keeping you in one place so they could take you all out at once. Judging by what I see here, that's exactly what happened. They killed you all, didn't they?"

Negan's mouth tightened now, his hand quaking ever so slightly as he put a train back on the tracks. "Like I said. Rick got me…he won."

"And yet, you just won't go away."

He gave a wry smile, not withering under her unwelcoming words. Just as he was about to say something in reply he stopped short, brow furrowing as he looked up towards the front door, and Carrie sat up a little straighter as she heard footsteps coming. Finally, someone was coming. Nine o'clock had come and gone, and while no one expected her to be punctual right now anyone waiting on Judith would have been eager to relieve Carrie of the extra child to care for. Through the closed drapes she saw a silhouette arrive at her front porch, the wooden deck creaking a little as they made their way to the front door.

There was a polite knock before the door opened, followed by the jarring clink of the chain lock that engaged. Looking at Negan she held her breath, seeing that he had raised his finger to his lips telling her to be quiet. She looked him over, noting that he had no weapon in his hands, that he didn't appear to be getting up…why on earth would she listen to him?

"Carrie?" came Enid's whispered voice. "I'm here to get Judy."

Having heard her name Judith looked up, approaching the door and then looking out as her face lit up in delight. "Hi Enid," she said sweetly. "Hi."

"Hey Judy," Enid whispered back. "Are Mommy and Calvin sleeping?"

"No," she shook her head, pointing into the living room where Enid couldn't see.

"I need Mommy to open the door. Go get Mom."

"Ah…Mom?" Judith said loudly, not concerned about keeping her voice down. "It's Enid."

As Judith repeated this Carrie slowly got to her feet, ignoring Negan who was shaking his head at her. Moving Calvin to lay in her other arm she made her way to the front door, not knowing what to say. She was about to cause one hell of a panic. As she slipped between the coffee table and Negan she looked down at him, noting that the red blood on his hands was shiny, that it was fresh. It was dripping down his side onto the carpet, leaving fingerprints on the trains.

"Enid, uhhh…" she began, looking through the small gap the chain allowed.

Enid just shrugged, unassuming. "I know you said you'd bring Judy yourself, but I figured you might need an extra set of hands."

"Yeah," she murmured, trailing off as she looked at Negan again. What did he expect her to do? Pretend he wasn't there? "I need you to get Rosita."

"What's up?"

It took her a moment to respond, wanting to allow everyone just one moment more before the panic and fear set in. "Negan. Negan's here."

"Huh?" Enid frowned, peering past her. When she couldn't see anything she stepped back, trying to see through the windows, but the drapes were drawn. "Negan's in there?"

"Yeah."

For a long moment they both just stood there, Enid's mouth widen with shock, and perhaps she didn't quite know if she ought to believe her or not. But slowly the reality dawned on her, and as if advancing on a dangerous dog she returned to the front door, lowering her voice to barely more than a whisper.

"Let Judy out."

She cast her eyes back at Negan once more, seeing him shake his head. "We're okay in here. Ju-"

"Give me Calvin," Enid implored, already reaching in through the door. "He'll fit through the gap."

Carrie shook her head, her attention on Lucille who rested against the wall immediately beside her. Moving very carefully so as to not draw attention she leant down and picked the baseball bat up, momentarily surprised by how lightweight it was. She looked Enid in the eye and then down at the bat, drawing her attention to it as she moved it into the gap of the door. Swift to understand Enid reached for the gun in her holster, ready to make a swap - the gun for the baseball fat.

Enid trembled when she took the bat, or perhaps it was a shudder of disgust for the object that was used to kill Glenn, her substitute father. But the moment she trembled the bat bumped against the doorframe, the soft sound getting Negan's attention.

"Hey!" he bellowed, noticing what they were doing. "Stop!"

He was on his feet before Carrie could even think twice, and when she looked up all she saw was him lunging towards her, face twisted into an expression of utter fury. She cried out in shock when he tried to close the door on her hand, Lucille clattering to the patio outside as Enid scrambled to grab it, to get it out of his reach. As Negan shoved past her she wrenched her hand back inside the door, shielding Calvin as she scrambled to get away. She glimpsed the expression on his face, terrified by the unrestrained malice in his eyes, the utter contempt.

"Bring her back!" Negan roared at Enid, the chain lock straining as he wrenched the door back open and reached through. "Bring her back, right fucking now!"

Judith started to cry, frightened by the sudden outburst, and as Negan continued yelling Carrie just backed away from him, trembling. She stepped in front of Judith to shield her, fumbling with her free hand to look through the drapes to Enid who had fled down the front steps, standing there in white hot terror. As Negan shouted again Judith's crying escalated, and it was only the sound of her loud sobbing that drew his attention away from Enid and Lucille.

"Jesus - fuck. I'm sorry."

As Judith's cry became a high pitched shriek Carrie looked back at her, and she too let out a cry when she saw her backed up against the hot fireplace. She lunged and wrenched Judith away, bile rising in her throat when she felt the back of her sweater was hot. Meanwhile Calvin continued sleeping in the cradle of her arm, not rousing through all the commotion or even when she laid him down on the floor.

Judith was sobbing as she looked her over, hastily removing her sweater and finding the clothing underneath was only just warm. In a hurry she inspected her for burns, finding her hands and fingers unharmed, the only casualty being the melted plastic baubles used to bind the end of her plaits that morning.

"You're okay," she tried to reassure her, kissing away the tears on her cheeks. "You're fine."

More tears were streaming from her eyes as she looked back at the fireplace, but she cast her eyes over at Negan too, hiccuping as she moved closer to Carrie and reached for her. "It bit me," Judith whimpered, not knowing how else to describe it.

"No, no it didn't. Just a mistake," Carrie said, pulling her shirt away from her body and waving it to get some cool air onto her skin. The heat hadn't harmed her, just frightened her in the midst of Negan's shouting. She was warned repeatedly to never touch the fireplace, back at home and here at Oceanside, that it would hurt her.

"She's okay?" Negan asked worriedly, still having not moved from the front door. He seemed torn between Judith and Lucille, his good arm still reaching through the door and waiting for Enid to bring Lucille back to him.

Carrie just glared at him, bringing Judith close to comfort her. She cared not for his concern, nor for the look of genuine distress on his face. He seemed just as upset as she was, upset that he had been the cause of Judith's distress, but Carrie didn't give a damn.

"Look at what you've done," she snarled.

As if flicking a switch Negan began to ignore her, turning his attention back to Enid who still stood out there with Lucille, paralysed with indecision. Run for help, or stay? It seemed not to matter though, for already Carrie could hear others shouting outside. Help was coming.

"Bring her back," Negan demanded. "Bring her back right now, or I swear to fucking Christ you won't like what I fucking do next!"

Judith had stopped crying now, and she just stood there as if shellshocked, not even protesting when Carrie let her go. Making her sit down on the floor next to Calvin she kissed her on the cheek again, but then she was forced to get up, to leave her. With a shaky breath she called out to Enid, pulling back the drapes on the front window.

"Enid…bring it back, okay?" she instructed, her voice wavering. "Pass it through the door."

"No. No way."

"Bring it back, Enid. He's not going to do anything," she said pointedly, looking at Negan. "Are you?"

He seemed to get the hint, and like a dog ashamed of a mess on the carpet he shook his head. Now he cleared his throat, still looking at her as he softened his tone and called again. "Bring her back to me. Please."

It took a little more encouragement, but finally Enid came forward. As Negan leaned out the door the chain lock continued to strain, and as they made the exchange Carrie breathed a sigh of relief. It felt foolish to have even tried getting rid of Lucille, she ought to have known he would react this way. Why had she done that? Why had she chosen to get rid of the bat instead of passing Calvin out, saving him and Judith immediately? Closing the drapes she stepped away from the window and kept her eyes on Negan, watching his expression change to one of sheer relief the moment he had Lucille back in his hand. He wasn't going to hurt them, he'd already made that clear.

"Thank you," Negan murmured through the gap in the door.

Just as he stepped back inside there came a gunshot, and Carrie's body lurched as if someone had struck her, the sound so close and loud she almost felt it. Behind her Judith gave a startled shout just as Calvin woke, his eyes flying open and mouth wide as he let out a wail of distress. In that split second Carrie couldn't even stop to look herself over, to make sure she wasn't the one who'd been shot. She wasn't thinking, not needing instinct to tell her that she had to protect her children. Diving at them she pushed Judith down to the floor, using her body to hide and protect them the only way she could. Calvin was squirming, crying in a way she'd never heard before as a second gunshot was fired.

"Stop!" Carrie was screaming. Screaming at Negan, at whoever is out there shooting…everything. "Please, stop!"

Negan had fallen to the floor, kicking the door shut as a third shot was fired, but finally it seemed to be over. The only sound she could hear was Judith and Calvin, her two children laying beneath her screaming and wailing. She started to cry when she looked at them, the distress and fear in their eyes breaking her heart…she had failed them. Her most important job was to protect them, and they were laying here screaming, afraid. Judith had trailed off into whimpers, her eyes clenched shut as she started to hiccup, while Calvin's face was red and screwed up. He writhed about in his swaddle, his eyes wet as he cried out to her, needing her comfort.

Trembling, Carrie slowly sat back up on her knees and looked around, turning her attention to Negan, and it seemed she was not the only one overcome. He was half slumped over by the couch, Lucille clenched in his hand next to him, but his head was bowed to conceal his face. Yet there was no hiding it, he was crying quietly, his whole body quaking with every sob. It was a sight that rendered Carrie mute, staring at him in utter disbelief. The shock of what just happened faded into the background as she stared at him, and in a startling realisation she pictured Rick that day in he clearing, when he had nearly cut Carl's arm off. Negan was crying just as hard as Rick was, and it was a sight quite unbecoming of the magnanimous figure, a true downfall from his once unwavering power and confidence.

Finally he managed to look up, his undignified sobs never ceasing as tears streamed down his face. He struggled to catch his breath, barely able to look her in the eye, and somehow she knew that it was genuine. This was real, not an act…he knew it was over.

"I'm sorry," he managed to get out, clenching his eyes shut as he looked away from her in shame. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

A/N Thank you so much for the previous chapter's reviews, such a joy to read! Hope you liked this chapter and the start of Carrie and Negan's confrontation - more for them next chapter!

Thanks for reading - please leave a review!.


	76. Chapter 76

Finally he managed to look up, his undignified sobs never ceasing as tears streamed down his face. He struggled to catch his breath, barely able to look her in the eye, and somehow she knew that it was genuine. This was real, not an act…he knew it was over.

"I'm sorry," he managed to get out, clenching his eyes shut as he looked away from her in shame. "I'm so sorry."

Not touched by his remorse no matter how genuine, Carrie turned away. Forced to chose one first she quickly scooped up Calvin and brought him to lay against her shoulder, shushing and bouncing him as he continued to cry. With her free hand she stroked Judith's hair off her face, talking to her softly before helping her up. As she shakily got to her feet a dark patch grew at the top of her legs, and she started to cry again when she realised she'd had an accident. Kissing her cheek Carrie tried to comfort her too, bouncing Calvin with one arm and encircling Judith with the other. She brought her to her other shoulder for a cuddle, not caring that she was straddling her leg with urine soaked trousers.

For a minute or so they sat there like that, holding both children in her arms as she glared at Negan, despising him with every fibre of her being, and he knew it too. He was still crying, but in embarrassment he was trying to stifle it, particularly now the kids were starting to settle. Judith was hiccuping as she sucked her thumb, something she hadn't done for months now, and Carrie just kept stroking her hair, telling her it was alright. Against her other shoulder Calvin too had stopped crying, but he was starting to writhe around, and she knew he was trying to work his way down to find her breast. She could feel his lips against her collarbone, his tongue tasting her skin as he searched for what he wanted. When he couldn't find it he started to cry again, not a cry of hunger but of frustration, looking for the comfort only she could provide.

"I-I'm sorry," Negan repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "Really, I am."

"Shut up," Carrie snapped at him. "Just sit there, and shut the fuck up."

He didn't seem surprised by her response, perhaps it was relief she saw in his eyes, and he looked down at the floor in shame. With a shuddering breath Carrie wiped tears from her own cheeks as she tried to make this work, hearing Calvin's spluttering cries escalating. Reaching around Judith she clumsily pulled her shirt and bra aside, not caring if Negan happened to see her breast. He could catch a full frontal view of both and she wouldn't give a damn.

When Judith saw what she was doing she made no move to help, to get out of the way and give Carrie back her other arm, for her need to be comforted too would not be set aside. It took a minute or so, but somehow she managed to wrangle the both of them, allowing Calvin to wriggle his way down and find her breast. He fussed unhappily before finally starting to nurse, but even then he whimpered a little more, his tiny hands clenched into fists.

Finally there was peace, and when Calvin started nursing she closed her eyes, taking a few moments to collect herself. She wasn't hurt, she could feel that by now, and neither were the kids. They were just scared, startled by the loud sounds that came out of nowhere. Had Judith ever heard the sound of a gunshot that close before? Already worried about Calvin's precious little ears she took that moment to relish the touch of their bodies against her, the way they felt in her arms. Everyone was okay. She didn't know what had happened out there or who had fired those shots, but it was over now…it wouldn't happen again.

"He likes that?"

Hearing Judith's little voice she opened her eyes and looked, seeing that she had stopped sucking her thumb. Instead she was patting the crown of Calvin's head, stroking his hair just as Carrie had taught her to.

"Yeah, he likes it," she confirmed, kissing her on the cheek.

Turning her attention back to Negan she studied him critically, noting that he was sitting there in silence just as she had told him to. If any of the shots had hit him she couldn't tell, but he was still in pain…more than physical pain it seemed. His face was ashen, and even from across the room she could see his eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Appearing embarrassed by his state he cleared his throat and looked away, avoiding eye contact. Nevertheless he was doing exactly what she told, and it was this that reminded Carrie she could take charge, that she could control the situation. Hostage or not, she had more power over him than most realised.

"Get up."

Judith raised her head, but she quickly relaxed back against her shoulder when she realised it was Negan she was talking to. It took him a moment to respond, for he took the time to wipe his cheeks and sniffle before slowing rising. Using Lucille to push himself up he allowed her to see his weakened state, and when he turned a little she was pleased to see he was bleeding from the opposite ear, that at least one of the bullets had struck him. Where he had been sitting the carpet was smeared with blood yet again, leaving behind yet another sign that he had been in this home, terrorising them in spite of any flimsy apology.

"In there," Carrie said sharply, gesturing to the smaller bedroom. "Get her some clean clothes and a bathing suit. Don't get blood on it."

Moving slowly as if trying not to frighten Judith anymore than he already had, Negan did as instructed. Taking Lucille with him he kept his left arm pressed against his side, but he went into the room and opened the closet to find the clothing required. When he came out he set the clothes onto the coffee table and then backed away, following her next instruction to retrieve Judith's backpack and water bottle.

She looked up at him when he brought the items over, and a month ago she would have been intimidated by the way he towered over her. Not today though. She might be the more vulnerable of the two, but something inside of him seemed broken, leaving her completely in charge. He didn't even need her instructions to return to his place near the couch, sinking back down to the floor and giving her adequate space.

Struggling to hold Calvin at the same time she managed to strip Judith's wet trousers and underwear, grabbing some wipes to get her cleaned up. As she worked she intermittently glanced at Negan, pleased to see he had made a point of averting his eyes, giving the toddler her rightful privacy from a stranger. Judith was silent as she cleaned her up, and she stood there with an appropriately glum expression, making Carrie wonder what she was most upset about. Negan's yelling, the gunshots, or her accident? What was going through her mind? What was going to scar her the most?

"All done now," she whispered to her, fastening the velcro straps on her sneakers. "Good job."

With a shuddering breath Judith nodded in agreement, her eyes getting watery as she looked over her shoulder towards the kitchen. She glanced at Negan, but only for a moment, and then she mumbled something barely audible.

"A sticker?" she clarified. "Will a sticker make it all better?"

Judith nodded, sniffling loudly. Taking her hand Carrie struggled to her feet, balancing Calvin with the other arm and keeping him nursing happily, and then she made her way into the kitchen where they kept the stickers. As if glued to her Judith stayed right by her side, giving Negan a strange look as they passed him by, but Carrie avoided bringing any attention to him.

"Here you go," she said, passing Judith the stickers normally retained for successful potty trips. "Choose one."

"I need two."

"Alright."

Still watching Negan from the corner of her eye Carrie started moving aside the clutter on the kitchen counter, freeing up space to enter the combination into their small safe. He gave no protest when she reached inside and took out her gun, barely looking up when she ejected the magazine to check it was loaded. Satisfied she reached back and managed to slip it into the rear of her waistband, the elasticised leggings holding it safely in place.

"These ones?" she confirmed with Judith. "Good choice."

Judith remained quiet as she placed one of each sticker on the back of her hand, her favoured spots, and said nothing when she told her it was time to go to daycare with Enid. "You're playing in the the little pool today," she reminded her, helping put her backpack on. "And the water table too."

Walking her to the door Carrie unlatched the chain lock, looking at Negan over her shoulder. He wasn't doing anything in particular, but she could see the disappointment in his eyes, the way his mouth pressed into a thin line as he tried to hold something back. It was pathetic to see him like this, but it wasn't even the minimum of what he deserved.

"Don't go," he suddenly said, trying not to sound like he was pleading. "Just stay a little longer."

Ignoring him, Carrie opened the front door and then looked out, confronted by the crowd standing out there. There were dozens of their people with guns raised, Rosita standing front and centre with her rifle, but the moment they saw it was Carrie they lowered their guns a little, still keeping them at the ready. Seeing them out there was frightening, an unnecessary reminder of seriousness of her situation.

"Are you alright?" Rosita called out, taking a tentative step forward.

Carrie nodded. "No one shoot," she instructed, looking out at everyone. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Maggie moving to the front of the crowd, her face white as a sheet but her eyes alight with brazen determination. Negan was here, offering her first and perhaps only chance to truly confront him for Glenn's murder.

Trying to keep her mind on the situation she took Judith's hand and tried coaxing her through the open door, but she resisted. Planting her feet on the floor she refused to move a single step, not crying or protesting, just refusing to move.

"See you later, Alligator," Negan said lightheartedly, trying to get Judith's attention.

Aggravated by the mere comment Carrie glared at him over her shoulder, even more aggravated by the look of disappointment in his eyes when Judith didn't respond to him. What gave him any right to be disappointed that Judith ignored him? What gave him the right to expect her to play with him and enjoy his company?

"Judith, it's time to go," she said firmly, readjusting Calvin with her other arm before trying to guide her forward. "It's time for daycare."

Seeing the problem Maggie started forward, calling Judith's name to get her attention. Still she refused to move, forcing Maggie to come up the front steps and onto the porch, moving in a slow and non-threatening pace. Getting a clear view she looked past Carrie to see Negan, looking at him carefully.

"Come on, Judy," Maggie said, taking her by the other hand and tugging her away. "It's time to go."

To their relief Judith finally complied, letting go of Carrie's fingers and going with Maggie, not even looking back. Steering her down from the porch Maggie let her go and turned back around, looking at her expectantly.

"Carrie…come on."

Just like Judith, Carrie suddenly felt rooted to the spot. She didn't know what she was thinking, but she drew a deep breath and then looked over her shoulder to Negan. He was sitting up properly now, leaning towards her as if he wanted to reach out, and now he didn't hide the fact that he was pleading.

"Please…don't go. Not yet."

She pitied him, especially the increasing look of distraught on his face. It's quite the downfall, and despite her unadulterated hatred of him…she's still got a lot to say. Maybe he was right…

"You're going to give me all your weapons. Right now."

He clenched his eyes shut, wincing. "Not her," he said heavily, his hand tightening around Lucille who lay next to him. "She's all I've got left…"

Carrie was about to argue, but before she could draw breath he was divesting himself of his weapons, tossing a pocket and hunting knife to the floor in front of her before turning out each of his pockets. He grimaced in discomfort as he turned onto his side, panting for breath as he clumsily reached back and lifted up his shirt, proving he had nothing concealed. She saw blood smeared all over his lower back, both dried and fresh, and it pleased her to see. Continuing he lifted the leg of his jeans to show her there were no ankle holsters, even going to the effort of kicking off his boots.

"Satisfied?" he panted.

"Not yet."

"Please…not my girl."

Carrie clenched her hands, staring down at the bat. "Push it away."

It pained him to do so, but after a few moments of hesitation he gave Lucille a nudge, making her roll away a few feet. Unsatisfied with his efforts Carrie marched over, taking pleasure in the pain in his eyes when she kicked the bat aside, pushing it into the kitchen. Satisfied that it was no longer within reach she returned to the front door and kicked his weapons out onto the porch, looking out to find that Maggie had already taken Judith far away, that she was out of sight. It was Rosita waiting there for her now, expectantly standing at the bottom of the step.

"Carrie, come on," she said, ushering her closer.

She shook her head, not quite believing the decision she had reached. "I'm staying," she said shortly. "He's bleeding out…and I'm not done with him yet."

Rosita just gaped at her, but she quickly continued. "Rick's in walkie range, he's about half an hour away, maybe less."

Carrie gave a short laugh, wondering how on earth he knew. "He must be driving like a bat outta hell."

"Just come out, let us take care of _him_."

Again Carrie shook her head, standing there in the threshold. Negan had kept saying he wanted to talk to her…maybe he had something to say worth hearing.

"Give me the baby," Rosita bargained next, climbing the step and reaching out. "Give him to me."

Steeling her nerves Carrie looked down at Calvin, knowing she would have to do this. He had been quietly nursing for a little while, but he was only sucking intermittently, reminding her that he was more upset than hungry. Bouncing him she whispered a few words to try and get his attention, slipping her pinky finger into his mouth to try and break the seal. But the moment he realised what she was doing he arched his back in protest, his mouth clamping down with such urgency that he hurt her. Flinching in pain she uttered a short curse beneath her breath, hands trembling as she tried again to pull him away.

When he howled she felt his distress in her very core, her heart beginning to race as her anxiety shot through the roof. His face flushed pink and he screwed his eyes shut, letting out short angry cries as he waved his tightly clenched fists. She tried to mentally detach, to ignore his distress even as a little voice in her head was screaming at her to help him, to not abandon him when he needed her. Rosita was coming forward, reaching out to physically pry him from her, but the moment she got close Carrie recoiled.

"Wait - just -" she spluttered, trying to figure out what to do. All the while Calvin cried at her, his tiny body quaking with every sound, every plea. _Don't leave me. I need you._

In a panic she retreated back inside, irrationally more worried about Rosita taking Calvin than she was about Negan. She slammed the door shut and turned the deadbolt, ignoring Rosita's shouts from the other side. Still in a panic she started bouncing Calvin urgently, trying to settle him before glancing at Negan over his shoulder. In spite of the wailing baby he looked relieved, his expression relaxing as he slumped back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Thank you."

Ignoring him for now she made her way back to the opposite side of the living room, putting space between them as she fixed up the cup of her nursing bra. Cradling Calvin against her shoulder she quickly started to soothe him, waiting until his cries had started to settle before slowly lowering him to her other breast and letting him nurse again. She could feel a let down starting, and hopeful that he would properly nurse this time she readjusted his swaddle to just the way he liked.

She started pacing the room, not knowing what to do now. Negan looked like he was fading a little, clumsily reaching for a cushion to press against the injury on his side, trying to stem the bleeding. He lay slumped over against the wall with his eyes closed, his free hand reached out as if longing to get Lucille back, reaching for her. Outside she could still hear people talking, Rosita sending people further back to give them some more space. She had no doubt the situation was under control as best it could be, that someone would be looking after Judith and comforting her. In thirty minutes Rick would be here, no doubt kicking the door down and storming in, or at least trying to.

Negan was bleeding, and surely stood no chance of being saved even if that was their intention for him. It was selfish, she knew that, but Carrie wanted to be the one to see him go, to watch him suffer slowly until he passed out and died. Keeping him in here was denying everyone else the chance to witness it too, those like Maggie who equally deserved the closure, but she would have to make do with his death. But between now and then, apparently there was something Negan wanted.

"I'm here," she stated plainly, turning to face him. "Have you got something to say?"

Negan's eyes fluttered open, and unlike before he seemed to have collected himself. The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a wry smile, pleased that after his begging she had chosen to stay there with him.

"Oh Darlin'…I got so much to say."

* * *

Their arrival at Oceanside was met with a seething tension unlike any Rick had ever felt before, the fear stoking pressure and anxiety among the people who were meant to be seeking refuge from the war. As he stepped out of the car he could see the people here looking at him, his own people and allies from the Kingdom and Hilltop relieved to see him, but the Oceansiders looked at him in utter resentment. All along he had promised these people that Negan would never hurt them again, that joining him in the war would free them of his terror. But instead Negan had made his way right here to their home, finding them in the one place they thought they would be safe from him. It didn't matter that he had known they were here all along, that Vetor had told him months ago. Oceanside would be putting this on Rick's shoulders.

As they made their way through the community he cast his eyes around, looking for the evidence that Negan really was here, that this wasn't all just a horrible dream. Though it seemed everything was alright in this area it was clear that there was an upheaval, that people were trying to keep things running as usual even amidst the tension and fear. The daycare kids were playing together at the playground, and he caught a brief glimpse of Judith climbing the ladder to the slide. He stopped for a moment to watch her, not unappreciative of what this meant. Not only was Judith safe, but they must be making progress negotiating with Negan. But where was Calvin? Carrie?

Daryl and Carl were by his side, Saddiq still tagging along and bringing up the rear, but Rick paid him no attention. As they made their way towards Carrie's cabin he felt himself becoming surprisingly calm, almost as if he was taking a test he was well studied for. Negan had surprised him already today, choosing to make a run for it instead of killing him. He had the opportunity, Rick was defenceless and incapacitated, yet Negan had allowed him to live. That in itself was a small miracle, but where Carrie was concerned things always seemed to be different. Him letting her live wouldn't be a miracle, not when he'd never wanted to hurt her in the first place. A small part of him trusted that Negan wasn't going to hurt her, or Calvin…he had to be there for something else.

At the cabins there were fewer people, everyone unnecessary being kept well back. When they arrived Daryl broke away from the group, stopping only to quickly murmur something to Carol and Dianne who had beat them there by minutes. He quickly disappeared into the woods nearby, no doubt heading around the back of the cabin or up into a tree to take a good vantage point. Rosita seemed to be the one in charge, but she was visibly relieved to see his arrival.

"What's going on?" he asked, turning to face the cabin. It seemed perfectly inconspicuous, the only sign that something was amiss being that the drapes were all drawn.

"It's been quiet for a while," Rosita answered. "We think they're just talking."

"Is he armed?"

"She must have at least one gun. It was in the safe so he can't have taken it, but we found another one tossed outside the window."

"Negan," Rick said tersely. "Is _Negan_ armed?"

"Not anymore," she assured him, gesturing to a pocket and hunting knife sitting on the steps of Maggie's cabin, two weapons he recognised. "Carrie made him toss them out when she let Judith leave."

"What about…" Rick began, losing his train of thought. He looked at Rosita, not sure he heard her correctly. "Carrie made him toss them out?"

Rosita nodded, but when she didn't elaborate Rick looked to Carol. With a heavy sigh she moved a little closer, lowering her voice. "They're not exactly sure _who_ the hostage is."

Coming forward Carl interrupted. "It's Carrie!"

There was a brief pause, but Rosita shook her head. "I know it sounds crazy," she admitted. "Things definitely started off bad, we think he took her by surprise…but seems like she's the one calling the shots right now."

In sheer disbelief Rick looked back towards the cabin, putting together the pieces of what he had learned. Judith had been let out, Carrie probably had a gun, and Negan had given up his weapons. Carrie and her children are taken hostage…how does she turn the tables on that?

"What's his demeanour?" he asked next, digging for more information. "What does he want?"

"Beats me what he wants," Rosita said, still in disbelief herself. "He's hurt pretty badly, he doesn't look good. But Carrie wants to talk to him. She wouldn't come out."

"Is she negotiating a surrender?"

"He is surrendered," Rosita emphasised, trying to make him understand. "He's got nothing in there except that bat, and I don't think he's capable of using it."

"You said over the radios that there were some shots."

"Us, not him. Carrie and Enid tried to swap her gun for the bat…she ended up taking a shot at him through the door. But it calmed down, and now she won't come out."

There were footsteps from behind them, and Rick spared a glance to see Michonne and Lana arriving on scene. Earlier seen Lana for a second, but had paid her little attention other than to ascertain that she seemed alright. After five days of imprisonment at the Sanctuary she looked remarkably well, having come to no visible harm, but he had little time to consider her wellbeing any further than that.

The new information came with a small boost of confidence as he weighed up his options. He knew the rules of hostage negotiation, but he wasn't sure they applied to this situation, particularly given how the tables appear to have turned on Negan. Bracing himself he slowly made his way up to the cabin, the walk there feeling awfully long. He could feel the eyes of everyone watching him, could see Daryl up in a tree with his crossbow ready. The pressure and enormity of what they were facing was not lost on him, and so he didn't allow his guard to drop, not even with the knowledge that Carrie was in control of the situation.

When he crossed the porch the wood creaked beneath his feet to announce his presence, warning those inside so he didn't take them by surprise. He tried to mentally detach, to think of this as a matter of procedure, a sequence of events and rules to follow, but it wasn't that simple. This was his family in there, Carrie and their son…if something went wrong, he could lose them.

"Carrie," he called out, knocking on the door. "Come to the door."

His call to her was met with silence, and he strained his ears to hear anything from the inside to the cabin. When there was nothing he stepped back a little, peering through the kitchen window to his left and the living room window to his right. There was no movement, not even a flutter of the drapes, and so he gave it a little longer. Maybe she couldn't come to the door, but he needed to hear her voice.

"Carrie," he called again, raising his voice. "Carrie, I need you to call out to me."

Finally it came, the voice he hadn't heard in over a week. She was really in there, she was alright.

"I'm alright," she called out, giving him the reassurance he craved. "Calvin's alright too."

Rick let out a low breath, placing his hand on the front door as if to anchor himself to the earth. Her voice was like music to his ears, as were the words she said. _They're okay…they're still alive_. "I'm coming in."

"No," she called back, her tone firm. "Stay out there."

"Carrie, I-"

"Stay outside," she repeated, raising her voice. "We're not done here."

 _Dammit Carrie_ _._ Her comment affirmed what Rosita said, that she had gained some element of control over the situation. But still not content with that he continued to push, needing to gain some control himself too. He moved towards the living room window, following where he had heard her voice coming from.

"Carrie, let me see you," he started, asking for something else instead. "Let me see that you're alright."

The short delay in her answer seemed to indicate that this wasn't convenient. "Just give me a second, okay? Don't come in."

Stepping back a little he made sure to put some space between them, not entirely sure of what situation was going to present itself. He cast his eyes out over the people waiting behind him, making eye contact with Daryl up in the tree, and then he waited with his palm on the handle of his Colt, ready to unholster it in less than a second. When she came to the door he heard her removing the chain lock, then slowly the door cracked open and there she was. Standing in the threshold she peered out at him through a small gap, but it was enough for him to see for himself that she was alright, that she appeared unharmed. Cradled in her left arm was a bundle of white blankets that had to be Calvin, but he couldn't see any more than that.

"Rick," she murmured softly, reaching her hand through the gap.

With a burst of impatience he moved closer, and wanting to get inside he pushed on the door, but his heart faltered when it found resistance. The chain lock snapped taut, making him realise that she hadn't been removing it before, but rather putting it in place. She didn't want him to come in, she was keeping him outside where he could do little to help her…or hinder her.

He looked back at her through the gap, words failing him. He wanted to tell her that it was over now, that the war was over if she would just let him in. But instead he looked past her, eyes seeking out Negan, and then she stepped aside to let him see. The Saviours magnanimous leader was slumped over against the wall, his clothes marred with blood, face pale and sweaty. He was by all means incapacitated, but it was little reassurance. Without thinking twice he removed his Colt from the holster, comforted by the weight of it in his hand, by the power it gave him to protect his family.

When Negan looked up at him he just shrugged, giving him a smirk of triumph. It was like he was saying, _See? Told you so_.

"Put your gun away," Carrie murmured.

"Let me in," he insisted, pushing at the door. "Carrie…let me in there."

She shook her head, briefly glancing at Negan over her shoulder. "We're just talking, that's all."

"Has he got a weapon?"

"No."

He tried to withhold a sigh, still not believing what she was doing. "Then why are you still in there with him?"

"We're talking," she patiently repeated. "Are you okay?"

He ignored her question. "Is he going to surrender?"

"He already has," she insisted. "Look at him…we're just talking."

At this Rick took pause, not knowing what to say to her. She was standing her ground, both refusing to let him in and refusing to end this herself. Though she hadn't said the words he knew what she was really trying to ask him…she wanted his trust. He wanted to give it to her, he really did, but after everything they'd been through how could he take yet another risk right now? They'd already survived with so much, could they really make it through something else without losing?

The brief pause allowed him to clear his head, to recollect and evaluate what he needed to do next. "Give Calvin to me," he instructed, already reaching for him. "If you won't come out, at least let me take him."

Carrie visibly pulled away. "He won't fit through the gap."

"Carrie, no," he said in confusion, starting to feel scared again. "Give him to me."

She shook her head and stepped back again, but she reached out her hand towards him, letting him take it. "Five minutes," she bargained. "And then I'm coming out."

"No."

"I need you to trust me," she said firmly, gripping his hand in return before quickly twisting out of his grip.

"It's not you I don't trust." He pushed at the door again, the chain snapping tightly. "Carrie, please!"

"Wait down there. Away from the door."

Before he could raise another argument she was closing the door, pushing it shut even as he tried to stop her. The deadbolt engaged automatically, the click feeling louder than it really was. For a few moments he just stood there in disbelief, having not really expected this to happen. He was dumfounded, for at the very least it wasn't unreasonable that he ask for their son, that he be able to take him away from this madness. But she wouldn't even give him that comfort…what the hell was she doing in there?

He lingered a little longer, certain that she would change her mind and open the door any second, but then he heard her words. _I need you to trust me._ Finally he took a step back, a deep breath of air compelling him to do as she asked, to play along. Clearly she was the one in charge. Just like Rosita said, Carrie was not the hostage anymore, and she was the one he needed to negotiate with, not Negan. Though he briefly relayed the discussion to the others waiting a few yards back Rick returned nearer to the cabin, waiting at the foot of the porch step.

It was a cruel twist that Negan knew where Carrie might have been sent to safety, and that had Lana not been able to tell them Rick might not have been here to see this through with her. If things had gone differently he would have just heard about the fallout later, receiving word from Oceanside that they had captured the Sanctuary's leader…that Carrie had been the one to see to his downfall. Despite his thirst to do it himself it didn't matter to Rick who it was that took Negan down, as long as it happened, and as long as he didn't take anyone else down with him. They'd already lost so much, both before and during the war, with Sasha being their most recent casualty.

But though the practical parts of the war might have reached their conclusion, for many people it hadn't finished, Carrie included. At the Sanctuary she was treated well enough, receiving medical care and prenatal vitamins, clothing and luxuries even the hardest workers could never afford, yet even setting aside the sickening thing they had done to make Daryl submit to Negan, Carrie hadn't been unaffected. What happened to her had been traumatic, robbing her of her autonomy and liberty, of the reassurance that she was bringing her baby into a world that was safe for him.

Was it really that much of a surprise what she was doing right now? This was her first chance to confront Negan for what he had done to them all, but to her in particular…she must be seeking closure, the opportunity to confront him and finally conclude her chapter in this war. She was no active participant in the fighting, but that didn't mean she wasn't deeply involved.

Ten excruciating minutes passed before the cabin door opened again, Rick's heart leaping into his throat when he heard the deadbolt turning. When he saw Carrie appear in the gap of the door he tentatively made his way back across the porch, and he breathed a short sigh of relief when he saw the bundle of white blankets she held in her arms, Calvin. He tried to look her in the eye, to gauge what she might be thinking, but her attention was on their son. She seemed upset, and she cleared her throat as she pressed her lips to his forehead, holding them there for a moment.

Without further delay she slowly passed Calvin through the gap, and with the bundle of blankets he almost didn't fit. But they made it work, and even as his injured arm flared up in pain Rick took their son in the crook of his arm, his heart soaring when he managed to properly see his face. In the week that had passed he had grown, that much was evident just from holding him, but his features were still the same, so easily recognisable. He was sleeping, his body relaxed and lips pursed, and as they made the exchange he didn't rouse or fuss.

"He just fell asleep," Carrie started, her voice tight with emotion. "Stroke his head if he starts to wake up."

Rick looked up in alarm. "Carrie, no. You're coming out now."

"One more minute."

For the second time she closed the door in his face, not giving credence to his protest, and with his arms full he couldn't even try to stop her. He hesitated, but only for the briefest moment because Calvin in his arms was all he needed to know what he had to do next. Retreating back to safety he made his way down the sandy path, looking at his son while the others shared murmurs of relief. In that moment all he wanted to do was take Calvin and hide, to take all his children and get them somewhere safe, somewhere no one would ever find them. But he knew he couldn't, that he could never abandon Carrie now. She was seeing this through to the end, and so was he.

"Take him," he said shortly, passing Calvin to his brother who had automatically gravitated towards them. "Find Judith and stay with them."

Though he quickly took his little brother, Carl shook his head in refusal. "I'm staying too, Dad."

"Just get him away," he said firmly, his hand lingering a moment on the blankets.

He studied Calvin a moment, awe struck by him, by the family he and Carrie had made together. There was no denying that he was afraid, and he didn't care if it was selfish, he'd pay any price to have his family safe again. As he lingered with Calvin he tried to collect himself, to prepare to negotiate with Carrie for her to come out, for him to give the order for Negan to be taken out at the first opportunity. But before he could organise any train of thought a murmur swept among the others, their urgent tones catching his attention.

"What happened?" he demanded, rushing forward.

"We heard something," Carol said, drawing her gun before the others followed suit. "Shouting."

At this the front door of the cabin rattled ominously, followed by a muffled shout from inside, Negan's voice. Though his words were indistinguishable he sounded angry, and Rick knew they had to do something. He couldn't stand not knowing what was going on in there, that Carrie was in there alone against Negan regardless of whether or not he was injured.

Silence had resumed again, but the decision from him and the others was unanimous. Together they advanced on the cabin and formed a distinct line, Rick drawing his Colt from the holster and retracting the hammer as he raised it to the cabin.

Before he could give any kind of order, the cabin door opened again.

* * *

A/N It's all over next chapter!

Currently working on the epilogue - but it's turning into another short story all of it's own! We're looking at four chapters so far, but I'm trying to condense it into three so that I can finish writing by next weekend. It's going to wrap up exactly how I knew it was always meant to!

Please please leave a review for this chapter - what do you think Carrie is doing in there?


	77. Chapter 77

"You know, I searched for you," Negan said lightly. "Spent three days out in the cold and rain, looking for you."

Carrie raised her eyebrows, not sure of how he was expecting her to respond to that. They'd been talking without incident for about twenty minutes now, Negan wearily filling her in one what went down the last few days. The initial attack and the walker herd, Lana getting herself caught, goading Simon into challenging his leadership, finishing with the slaughter at Alexandria. As he talked it seemed like he was getting a great load of stress off his chest, making her wonder if this was serving as some kind of dying confession. But conversation had faltered, Negan falling silent after recounting his arduous journey of driving here as he applied first aid to the gunshot wound Rick had inflicted.

"You obviously didn't look hard enough," she commented when the silence stretched on. "I was at the Kingdom the entire time."

"Arat and Gavin took a team there…but I suppose in hindsight that's just what the bitch told me," he trailed off, bitter that he hadn't seen Arat's double cross coming. "That where you had Calvin?"

Carrie grit her teeth, just like she did any time Negan so much as looked at her son. "Fourteenth of March."

"God fucking dammit," Negan swore. "I had a hundred points and a blow job bet on Friday the Thirteenth."

She didn't comment. It felt kind of poetic that Calvin was born on the fourteenth of March, exactly one year after she arrived in Alexandria with Rick's group. In the old days meeting someone, getting married and having a baby in the space of a year would have raised eyebrows. But time was different these days, one year feeling like it stretched on for five.

"The day you ran. It was you who killed Laura, wasn't it."

"Yes."

Negan gave an annoyed sounding sigh, narrowing his eyes at her. "That was fucking messed up. You mother-fucking mutilated her."

Unconcerned, Carrie just shrugged her shoulders. She remembered the attack very clearly, the way Laura tried to scream around the blood in her throat, the way she snapped and just couldn't stop stabbing her even long after she was actually dead. The image of Laura's mutilated face wasn't something she'd ever forget, but nor did it haunt her.

"You were cruel," Negan added, sounding upset with her. "Laura was kind to you."

Her hackles raised Carrie looked at him in annoyance. "Should I have beaten her with a baseball bat?" she questioned angrily. "Should I have taunted her? Let her suffer in front of her family?"

"Alright. I get the point."

"At least Laura got the dignity of dying quickly. I'm not sorry," she added sharply. "She's not the first I've killed, and she won't be the last."

This comment seemed to gauge Negan's attention, making him perk up a little. "Who have you killed before her?"

"Plenty of people."

"Come on, tell me. What else are gonna talk about, and I fuckin' live for these stories."

Figuring that's why she had stayed with him Carrie considered it a moment. Her friend Wade from early on, the men who raped her, the Wolves and Pete…it was all too personal. Negan might be on death's door giving a final confession, but that didn't mean she was too. She didn't want him to know these things, and so she shook her head, refusing to answer. Instead she looked down at Calvin, checking on him. He was ravenous with hunger now, having taken all he could from one breast and forcing her to put him on the other. Laying in her arms he continued nursing, and it was a relief to see that his distress from before had faded away, allowing hers to do the same. Despite their current situation, Calvin was safe and comforted with her, exactly where he needed to be.

"I never killed anyone who didn't need to die," Negan continued talking. "Your friends? They needed to die."

Carrie wouldn't dignify that with a response, choosing instead to keep looking at Calvin. He had caught her eye and was holding her gaze, his strong sucks faltering a moment before starting up again. For one blissful moment it was just the two of them, his nose making a cute whistling noise with every breath he took.

"If your people had just done as you were told, everything would have been rosy. That first woman was the only one who needed to die. But you wouldn't listen, so I had to start killing your other friends, and still you wouldn't listen."

"Understandable, don't you think?" she asked, not even looking up. "Communities under you subjugation don't have longevity. Just ask the people here. I know what happened to their men and boys."

There was a pause, Negan letting out a soft sigh. "I regret that. Highly. But the order didn't come from me."

"No, it was Simon acting on your behalf. There's no difference. You're responsible for those men he killed. For those children."

Again there was another pause, and when Negan finally spoke his voice was so soft she almost didn't hear him. "I know." Silence fell again, but uncomfortable with it Negan kept talking, kept the conversation going. "You've never done something you knew was wrong? Something you didn't want to do?"

"Sure."

"I was trying to make things better," he argued. "And I did. I told you what the Sanctuary was before I took over. Women prostituting themselves just to eat, people killing each other indiscriminately. I made things better. I made a better life for people, you know I did."

Surprised by his insistence that she understand, Carrie looked up. "We're always the hero in our own story."

"Does that make me the villain in yours?"

Carrie raised her eyebrows, gesturing between them. "After what you've done?"

Conceding this he nodded, breathing out heavily as he put his head against the wall again. He closed his eyes for a few moments, resting a little, and so she tried to do the same. While she didn't close her eyes she did put her head back against the wall, looking down at Calvin again. With the smouldering fireplace nearby he seemed a little warm, and so she loosened his swaddle and freed his arms, catching the moment he realised what she had done. One arm was stuck between them, but he stretched the other out as far as he could, slowly retracting it back in to himself and then laying it over the swell of her breast. She liked when he did that, making her feel like he was hugging her, returning the love and affection she so freely gave him. It took reminding herself of current company to stop her talking to him, whispering sweet nothings just so that he could hear her voice.

"I regret taking you," Negan confessed, still unable to let the silence linger. "It was an impulse. I was just fucking with Rick, that's all."

She could see him from the corner of her eye, could see that he was annoyed by her lack of engagement in the conversation. Still she remained reticent, wondering how much more he would divulge in his eagerness to keep conversation going, and she was quickly rewarded for her patience.

"You know, I…" he started, trailing off awkwardly. "I liked you…more than I should have. How fucking pathetic is that?"

"Arat filled us in," she responded, sparing him a glance. "You weren't exactly subtle about your feelings."

His mouth twisted into a grimace, and he looked away shyly. "So you fucking knew?" he asked light heartedly. "You knew I had it bad for you?"

"Not at the time."

"Shit…this is humiliating," he joked, not that it stopped him divulging more. "Your story about how you met Rick. Used to wish that'd been me, that I was the one who found you. Maybe things would be different."

She shook her head, giving her honest answer not to hurt him, but to remove any grey area. "It wouldn't have been different. I would have seen you for who you really are."

"But you would have _known_ me…trusted me. I think about us together. Even after all this I think we could have been happy, just…" he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. "The scenes in my mind, they lack a certain practicality."

"Crying baby?"

"Yeah, but not that one," he smiled, gesturing to Calvin. "Rick. He'd never let you go."

At this she couldn't help but roll her eyes. "It says a lot for your ego that you think the biggest hurdle in our being together is my husband, not my willingness to be with you."

"Or lack of will, so to speak. Would it have been so bad being my wife? My _only_ wife?"

"I don't think it's really me you're in love with," she suggested. "It's what I have. A family, community, people to love. You wanted that too."

"Wanted?" he countered, struggling to hide a small smile. "What makes you think I didn't have that?"

"I know you didn't," she challenged, refusing to hear this his wives and soldiers loved him in any real sense. "You didn't deserve it."

"And Rick? He deserves this, and I don't?"

"Do you really have to ask that?" she questioned, looking at him cynically. "Tell me something. Why didn't you kill him? You said you had the chance. That he was on his knees, and you didn't kill him."

He tilted his head at this question, going to the effort of sitting up a little. "Why do you think I didn't kill that sorry fucker?"

"Because you know he deserves to live."

"He doesn't deserve to live any more than me," he snapped. "I didn't kill him because of you."

"Because you're in love with me?"

"Yes."

When he said this he faltered a little, looking annoyed that she made him say that without even thinking, not that it wasn't anything she didn't know. Nevertheless he was visibly perturbed, his eyes narrowed at her as he slumped back against the wall again. He almost seemed to be sulking, embarrassed by all that she knew, and resentful for all she had that he never would.

"Was there ever someone else?" she asked, prying. "Someone before all of this?"

His answer wasn't easy to extract, and she had to ask a second time before he gave any acknowledgement that he'd even heard her. But a few moments later he turned his eyes back to her, lingering there before he reached for the left sleeve of his jacket and began pushing it up. Wrapped around his wrist was the white bandage he always wore, one he claimed was to support an old injury, and so she held her breath when he began unwinding it. Looking proud he reached out and showed her his forearm, where tattooed in cursive script was a non too surprising name.

 _Lucille_.

"How would she feel about your namesake?"

Pulling his sleeve back down Negan avoided the question at first, but to his credit he answered. "She'd be ashamed of me. I'm glad she's not here to see me right now."

"As opposed to the asshole you are any other time?"

He ignored this. "Lucille was an angel," he said wistfully, his words heavy. "She deserved better than what I gave her."

"What happened to her?"

"Oh, what always happened back then. Cancer."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured, an automatic response.

It felt awkward now, for as personal as it was for him to admit he was in love with her, learning about his late wife felt intimate. It was strange to think of Negan before all this, that he was once just any other person going about his life, probably a good person who wouldn't have dreamed of murdering people. They had all changed, and even though their core qualities mostly survived, no one was entirely who they were before.

"We would have loved to have kids," he confessed, his eyes darting to Calvin. "But we got stuck with a five bedroom house and a big backyard…just the two of us. You're lucky."

She wanted to tell him that she knew this, that she wouldn't ever forget to appreciate what she had, but instead she chose to remain silent. Lucky didn't begin to describe the enormity of all she possessed, of her family and children, her community…it wasn't something she could yet put into words. She pitied him, imagining him wandering around the house he and his wife wanted to fill with children, left with only empty rooms.

Negan was watching her from the other side of the room, but his attention wasn't really on her, not even on the peek of her breast he could probably see. Calvin was the one who held his attention, the baby doing nothing more interesting than eating and breathing. Watching him in return Carrie suspected what was on his mind, and she knew what he was going to ask before he even opened his mouth to speak.

"When he's done, can I hold him?"

The hopefulness in his voice was touching, as was the genuine emotion in his voice when he had divulged his disappointment in never becoming a father…it took a moment for her to answer. She refused his request for a second time, and his disappointment was even more profound than before. Like then he tried to play it down, appearing to give a halfhearted shrug as he looked away, but she could see it written all over his face. He was looking at the front door now, making her wonder if he was done with this conversation, if he was ready for her to leave. His intrusion on her home, all the things he was telling her…was this his rock bottom?

"Lucille wasn't made for this," he said quietly. He cleared his throat and shifted around a little, readjusting the cushion that was stemming the blood flow. "She was weak. When she died, there was a part of me that was relieved…" he trailed off, glancing at her before quickly looking away. "I'm glad she's dead."

"That's a strange thing to say."

"Not really," he mused. "I'm glad she never had to see any of this. But I miss her," he added. "I guess now I can see her again…"

At the sound of footsteps outside Negan began to trail off, looking exasperated by the interruptions. Suspecting who it was Carrie let out a slow breath, a relieved smile growing on her face. It must be Rick out there, finally back after the war. When she heard his voice from the other side it felt completely surreal, that she had been waiting for this so long that it couldn't actually be true.

"Carrie," Rick called out, tapping his knuckles against the door. "Come to the door."

"Time's up," she said apologetically.

Shaking his head, Negan cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. "Not yet. Just a little longer."

"I think I've given you long enough."

"I spared him," Negan reminded her, arguing. "Could have painted the walls of your kitchen with his brain…and yet here he is. You owe me."

"Carrie!" Rick called out with urgency. "Carrie, I need you to call out to me."

She was holding Negan's gaze as she took a deep breath. "I'm alright," she called, thinking on this for a moment. "Calvin's alright too."

There was a brief silence, and she pictured him out there giving a prayer of thanks. "I'm coming in."

"No," she said firmly, sitting up. "Stay out there."

"Carrie, I-"

"Stay outside," she repeated, raising her voice. "We're not done here."

On the other side of the room Negan's shoulders slumped, his head tipping back against the wall. "Thank you," he breathed.

"Carrie…let me see you," Rick called next. The morning sun cast his shadow against the window, and she could see his silhouette standing out there, seeing the way he waited nervously. "Let me see that you're alright."

Not trusting that he wouldn't come in Carrie sighed under her breath, knowing she had to meet him halfway. "Just give me a second, okay? Don't come in."

Using her little finger to break the seal of his mouth she gently coaxed Calvin away from her breast, and to her relief he didn't cry. Instead he just smacked his lips together and looked up at her in satisfaction, his hands and features perfectly relaxed. This was what Rick needed to see, that she and their son were both okay, that they weren't in distress. Hastily fixing her clothing she got to her feet and went to the door, giving Negan a stern look and telling him to stay silent. Before she opened the door she grimly took the chain and secured it in the lock, preventing Rick from coming inside before she was ready. It struck her as ironic that he had made a point of asking her to use this security chain, a measure that was now keeping him out and Negan in.

Slowly she cracked open the door, and then there he was - she could see him with her own two eyes. He was tired and haggard, dark shadows underneath his eyes betraying how exhausted he was in body, mind and spirit, but he seemed okay. A huge surge of emotion came over her now, sheer relief reminiscent of the day she and Daryl escaped the Sanctuary and slowly realised they were free, that it was over. After everything she had learned about what happened in the last few days Rick had made it through, had returned to their family. Despite her faith in him, part of her had been expected Rick to never come come, that their family would never see him again. The world had a way of snatching happiness even from those who deserved it.

"Rick," she said quietly, reaching her hand through the gap.

Her heart fell a little when he didn't reach for her, craving the touch of his hand in hers. Instead he pushed on the door, perturbed when the chain snapped taut to keep him out. A moment passed as they looked at each other in silence, neither knowing what to say or do, and then his eyes darted past her, looking for Negan. She stepped aside to let him see that he wasn't a threat, not that she expected this to reassure him.

"Put your gun away," she said quietly, gesturing to his Colt that he held at the ready.

"Let me in," he whispered, pushing at the door again. "Carrie…let me in there."

She shook her head, readjusting Calvin as she glanced at Negan. He lay exactly where she had left him, his breathing shallow and his eyes closed. "Everything's fine. We're just talking, that's all."

"Has he got a weapon?"

"No."

At this response his brow furrowed, and he looked at her in disbelief. "Then why are you still in there with him?"

"We're talking," she said firmly, wishing she could reassure him, that she could put his fears at ease. "Are you okay?"

She was taking in his appearance with greater scrutiny, seeing what the last week had done to him. Amongst the expected scrapes and bruises his hair was matted with dried blood, a red trail circling the shell of his ear and down onto his neck and collar. A splint encased his right arm, a white loop of fabric around his neck showing how he had discarded use of a sling for the injury.

Not to her surprise he ignored her question. "Is he going to surrender?"

"He already has," she implored. "Look at him…we're just talking."

There was an awkward silence. Rick didn't know what to say, but he was seeing that she wasn't giving in, that she would stand her ground.

"Give Calvin to me," he instructed, already reaching for him. "If you won't come out, at least let me take him."

Against rational thinking she pulled away, looking at him apologetically. "He won't fit through the gap."

"Carrie, no," he said in confusion, beginning to look frightened again. "Please. Give him to me."

She shook her head and stepped further back again, and when she reached out her hand a second time he seized it, gripping it tightly. "Five minutes, and then I'm coming out."

"No."

"I need you to trust me," she said firmly, letting him hold her hand a moment longer before twisting it out of his grip, knowing he would release her.

"It's not you I don't trust," he said urgently. Though he let her hand go he pushed at the door again, snapping the chain tightly. "Carrie, please!"

"Wait down there. Away from the door."

Not letting this drag out any longer she began to close the door, pushing it closed even as he tried to stop her. When it closed and the deadbolt engaged she let out a slow breath, bouncing Calvin a little as she stood there and waited for Rick to leave. Her heart was aching because all she wanted to do was go rushing out there, to be in his embrace and reunite him with their children. She was making them both wait, and all for Negan, a man worth less than the dirt on her shoe. But she knew she wasn't really doing this for Negan, but for herself. As their conversation progressed she slowly figured out how this had to end, and the more he talked of his regrets the more certain she became.

Waiting until she heard Rick's footsteps crossing the porch she turned back to Negan and started forward. At the sound of her approach he opened his eyes again, looking exhausted.

"Can't believe you think that asshole deserves happiness more than me," he grumbled. "He's killed hundreds more of my people than I killed of yours."

She said nothing to this, letting her actions speak instead. Moving a little closer to him she bounced Calvin in her arms, adjusting his light blanket and tickling his sweet round cheeks. Lingering there she waited for Negan to figure it out, to ask her one more time, and finally he did. His gaze settled on Calvin, making no effort to hide how much he longed to hold the baby in his arms.

"Can I?"

Though she second guessed herself, Carrie nodded. "Take that jacket off," she instructed. "Go into the kitchen and wash your hands, and use the sanitiser."

He didn't protest, not raising a complaint even when he stood up and winced in pain. Dropping the blood stained pillow he gingerly removed his jacket and discarded it onto the floor, though his movements as he walked into the kitchen were slow and tentative. He wore only the plain white teeshirt he used to wear at the Sanctuary in his off duty hours, not unlike the shirt Rick too favoured at home. Now she could more clearly see that he had been shot in the side, that it had gone straight through. As she suspected it had occurred quite some time ago, his blood stained shirt dried and stuck to his skin.

On the inside she was questioning what she was doing, why she would ever let this monster hold her precious child…but she had her reasons. This was not a kindness, but her way of returning his cruelty, to give him just a hint of the joy and happiness he would never have for himself.

"Sit down on the couch," she instructed, satisfied he had cleaned his hands and forearms.

When he did as instructed she draped a towel over his front, making sure it kept Calvin shielded from his blood stained clothing, and then she tried to ready herself. Calvin had a full tummy and clean diaper, and was happily laying in her arms, eyes fluttering as he tried to stay awake. She had to be out of her mind, but before she could think too much Negan was tentatively reaching up. His hands were twitching, trying to resist reaching for the baby he had no right to demand.

"Please, don't tell Rick about this."

"I won't," he replied without hesitation, still trying not to reach for him. "I promise."

Trying not to think about it too much she slowly lowered Calvin down, settling him into Negan's waiting arms. She lingered there, her hands still cradling him a few moments until she was ready to let go, and then she lingered a little longer to fuss with the blanket and towel. In that instant Negan started to relax back into the couch, letting out a long sigh as he got comfortable with Calvin, confident as he readjusted the way he lay in his arms. There came a comfortable silence they had never shared before, giving Carrie the little push she needed to step back. She didn't go far though, taking only two steps back and settling herself down onto the coffee table.

"Well, hello there young man," Negan murmured, gently patting his diaper when he fussed a little. "Hello."

Unable to completely let her guard down Carrie waited at the ready, and though she knew he wouldn't she was watching like a hawk for any sign that Negan was going to hurt her son. But none came, and when Negan continued talking and patting him Calvin gave a long sigh, relaxed and content in the arms of a stranger. He seemed impossibly small in contrast to Negan, the man who had caused them all so much misery, but there was no sign of that man right now. If what he said about his wife Lucille was true, this was the kind of moment he had been missing out on for a long time.

Completely at ease with him Negan was smiling, his eyes warm as he slipped his finger into Calvin's hand and let him grip it. He talked to him softly, praising his strong grip before gently pulling back the blanket and looking at his onesie. Opening up the end he looked at his feet, no doubt marvelling over his miniature toes just as Rick and Carrie had many times.

"He looks like you," Negan commented, still admiring him. He was tickling his cheek now, trying to elicit a smile out of him, and she was glad when Calvin wouldn't give him one. "He's beautiful."

This comment didn't bring the same sense of pride it did when others said it. "He's a baby. He doesn't look like anyone," she lied, certain that she could see more of Rick's features in him than her own.

"I can see you," Negan insisted, then speaking directly to Calvin. "That's right, I can see your mama in you."

To his delight Calvin yawned, opening his mouth wide and stretching his shoulders and arms. As he began to settle he gazed up at Negan some more, making soft sounds that he seemed to revel in. Still trying to elicit a smile he kept playing with him, gently tapping his chest and stroking his ears, even pulling a face. As the minutes slipped by Calvin's attention began to wane, and Carrie watched on as he gave the familiar signs of needing to rest. He started trying to fight his sleepiness, forcing his eyes open and wildly jerking his arms, making discontented noises that she recognised well.

"Stroke his head for a little while," she instructed, resisting the need to take him back too soon. "He'll go to sleep."

"Like this?"

As though this wasn't his first time he reached up and gently smoothed his fingers across Calvin's head, moving from the back towards the front where he let his fingertips trail down to his eyebrows. Letting him continue they both watched as Calvin continued resisting, but a few minutes later his eyelids began to flutter, his hands slowly drawing back to his chest where he liked to hold them. Not missing a beat Negan continued stroking his head, stopping only when he was sure that he was fast asleep. For now he fussed with the white blanket a little, checking to make sure his legs and toes were warm.

"Fucking Christ on a stick…" Negan swore under his breath, unable to hide his affection. "That's fucking beautiful." He glanced up at Carrie now, giving her a small smile. "How do you ever put him down?"

Were it anyone else she would have returned the smile, telling them that she too adored it when Calvin fell asleep in her arms, that sometimes she preferred to hold him as he slept rather than put him into the crib. But for Negan she said nothing, refusing to engage him in conversation. Instead she slowly rose from the coffee table, displeased by the way he automatically tightened his embrace of Calvin, not wanting to give him up.

"One more minute?"

She shook her head in refusal and then reached for him, annoyed by what he did next. Before she could stop him he leant down and kissed Calvin's forehead, holding him there and breathing in deeply. When she told him to stop he ignored her, pressing his lips to his forehead one last time before finally pulling away. He made no effort to help when she reached down to take Calvin back, making her fumble a little before bringing him back into her own arms. She glared at him in annoyance when Calvin's eyes fluttered open, swiftly turning away so that he couldn't see him anymore.

"No need to be a bitch about it."

Again she ignored his comments, turning her attention back to her son. Using the blanket she dabbed at his forehead as if she could wipe away any trace that Negan had kissed him, and then she fixed the blankets so he was swaddled just the way he liked. Swaying a few minutes she waited until his eyes were closed again before returning to the front door, ready to part with him. Keeping the chain engaged she opened the door and looked out. Rick was waiting for her at the bottom of the porch step, and when she caught his eye he made his way back to her.

Clearing her throat Carrie pressed her lips to Calvin's forehead, kissing him in the same spot that Negan had, not wanting him to be the last person who had kissed her baby. Giving him up was harder than she expected, and when she carefully passed him through the gap in the door a painful lump swelled up in the base of her throat. It would only be a few minutes, she told herself that repeatedly, and now he would be safe in the hands of his father. Broken arm and all, Rick took Calvin and settled him into the crook of his arm, visibly breathing a sigh of relief that she shared. She wished they could have had this moment differently, that when he got to see his children again it was in the midst of celebration and joy, not a standoff with Negan.

"He just fell asleep," she murmured, clenching her hands into fists as soon as they were empty. "Stroke his head if he starts to wake up."

Getting the wrong impression Rick looked at her in alarm. "Carrie, no. You're coming out now."

"One more minute."

Ignoring his next protest she closed the door on him, shutting him out again so she could have Negan all to herself. It felt strange that it was now just the two of them, but she rolled with the change of pace, not needing to remind herself that she was completely in charge. There was only one thing that was going to happen next, one outcome she would deem acceptable, and it was up to her to make it happen.

"I suppose a kiss from a beautiful woman is too much for a dying man to ask for," Negan requested hopefully. "I'll keep my tongue to myself. Cross my heart."

"I won't dignify that with an answer."

He gave a dramatic sigh, settling back into the couch and getting comfortable. "Then I hope you don't mind that I'm gonna kick it right here," he sighed, closing his eyes. "Feels right…good."

"Good?"

Slowly he nodded, reaching one hand up and rubbing the side of his face. "I miss my wife. And I deserve it."

"Are you sure that's true?"

"We both know what I deserve," he said shortly, opening his eyes a fraction so he could see her. "It was kind of you to entertain a dying man's last wish. Thank you."

"Kind?" she questioned, looking at him in disgust. "You think I let you hold my baby out of kindness?"

"I don't care what it was," he said impatiently, closing his eyes again. "It's over now. You have to do it. You or Rick, it doesn't matter."

She let his thoughts linger on this, looking at the way he lay slumped over on her couch, ready to die. "I'm not going to kill you," she told him. "I'm not going to let Rick kill you either."

"The widow then?"

"No. I'm not going to let anyone kill you."

At this Negan let out a long sigh, making a point of moving other couch cushions out of the way, not wanting them to stem any more bleeding from his wounds. "I don't want your mercy. It's my time."

"This is not mercy. This is your punishment."

Finally, she had his attention. At these words she saw the way his body tensed, the small signals of surprise he couldn't hide, and then he slowly opened his eyes again. Looking at her with mistrust he held her gaze, no doubt suspecting what she was getting at.

"What punishment?"

"You want to be with your wife again."

"Yes."

"You want us to kill you?"

Negan slowly sat up on the couch, looking her in the eye. "Yes," he requested, his voice never wavering. "It's right."

She shook her head in defiance of his request, and as she stared down at him it took everything she had not to smile cruelly. "You don't know me, Negan. You've only ever known me as your prisoner. I am not kind," she said spitefully. "I'm not letting you die. You don't get to have peace."

In disbelief he simply gaped at her, but slowly he adapted, his features darkening as he realised what she intended. His tone changed as he began to cruelly taunt her, staring at her long and hard, the kind of stare that would have once made her shrink away in fear.

"I remember you screaming in that clearing," he snarled. "I remember how much I broke you when I crushed your friends heads. Cracking their skulls, bashing those big beautiful brains into the ground over and over again…and you couldn't stop watching…you couldn't look away."

The memories came back to her with painful clarity, her body instantly feeling the paralysing terror, the struggle to just breathe and stay conscious. The thuds of the bat hitting the ground beside her, the look on Glenn's face after that first blow to the head. She would never forget the way Rick looked at her after he and Negan returned in the RV, she never did ask him what happened then, and nor would she forget how after what Negan did with Carl he couldn't even look at her he was so utterly broken. But now Negan was trying to provoke her, calling upon the worst moments of her life that he had inflicted…but she had to be stronger than him. Now it was her turn to inflict punishment, it was her turn to be the cruel one, she just had to be stronger than him.

"I told you I don't enjoy killing, but that was a lie," he continued, provoking her. "Killing your friends, now that uhh…that was a good time. I liked it. I liked the way you screamed for them, the way you all begged."

"I don't care what you say," she replied, holding her ground. "You're not dying today."

Negan visibly shuddered at this, his facade crumbling already. "Do it," he implored, clenching his hand so tightly into the arm of the couch that his knuckles turned white. "Kill me. Do you not have it in you?"

"I have it in me."

"Then do it…don't you punk out on me!" he growled angrily, eyes narrowing at her. "Kill me."

When she held her ground Negan suddenly launched to his feet, his eyes crazed and hands reaching forward as he advanced on her. "Kill me!" he roared, forcing her to retreat. "Have your justice!"

He had her backed up against the door, hands either side of her head and body pressed up against hers, and though her body reacted in fright her mind did not. When he shouted at her again she just turned her head away and took a deep breath, ignoring him all together. Had she ever been this close to him? She could smell the blood all over his clothes, the sweat he had worked up on his long and arduous journey from the fight in Alexandria where he was wounded. He was pressed against her, pinning her to the door as he shouted, and she could feel the blood dampening the front of her shirt. Nevertheless she stood her ground and in no time at all he crumbled, breaking down like he had before.

"Ple-ase," he whimpered, trembling as he clenched his eyes shut and lowered his head. "You have to."

"Tell me why," she said lowly, turning her face back so she could see him. It was startling to be in such close quarters to him, to have him pinning her there like that, but she did not waver. "Tell me why I should kill you."

Against her his body quaked as he began to cry, tears coursing from his eyes. "So I can be with my wife," he exclaimed, sobbing wretchedly. "So I can be with _Lucille_."

Allowing him to cry she reached her hand around to the back of her leggings, taking a firm grip on her gun stowed there. She had felt his hand touching her waist, but she was under no impression that he was trying to grope her, to get one last feel of a woman before he died. He was ready to die, believing he'd be reunited with his late wife and be freed of his guilt and shame…but she wasn't letting him commit suicide.

"Look at me, Negan. Look at me."

It seemed to take forever for him to compose himself enough, and as he took a shuddered breath they both heard the sound of footsteps on the porch, their people outside no doubt moving in after hearing the sounds of their dispute. Finally Negan raised his head and looked down at her, blinking more tears from his eyes as he looked at her pathetically, still pleading with her to kill him. But every plea he made only furthered her determination to see this through, and she held his gaze as she spoke.

"This is your punishment," she said slowly, wanting to remember this moment. "This is _my kindness_ to you. Do you understand?"

"No," he whined, his features taut with despair. He gripped the top of her arm now, squeezing. "Kill me, or I'll hurt you."

Again she refused, then when he reached up to grasp her neck she shoved him in the chest, taking almost no effort to effort to push him away because he was never going to hurt her in the first place. The sight of him was so pitiful she almost had to look away, embarrassed for him, for the grand downfall of the Sanctuary's fearless leader.

Unlatching the security chain she opened the front door, unsurprised to find Rick and the others standing on the other side ready to come bursting in. She spared them a brief glance and told them to back off, repeating herself until they obeyed in confusion, and only when they were down off the porch did she turn back to Negan. He stood in the middle of the living room trying to compose himself, still murmuring pleas for her to kill him, making a last ditch effort.

"Try your luck out here."

Without another word she departed, stepping out into the fresh air outside the claustrophobic cabin to which she had been confined. In the split second in which the sun hit her face she exalted, remembering how only an hour ago her mind had been set on stretching out on a sun lounge for a nap. But now here they all were, bearing witness to what happened to the Saviour's leader. She briefly cast her eyes over the people there, Lana and Carl who stood further back, Maggie, Carol, Rosita and the Oceansiders standing at the edges of the small clearing. They all watched on in horrified relief, believing that this was about to be over…it would be, just not in the way they wanted.

Negan too emerged from the cabin, and though everyone readied themselves and moved their fingers to the trigger of their respective weapons she heard their sharp intake of breath upon seeing him. He came out to face them all, barely holding his composure as he made his way down to Rick. He faced him and then sank down to his knees in the sand, not saying a single word to the man whose family and community he had terrorised. Everyone collectively held their breaths as Rick looked down at him, and Carrie wished she could know what was going through his head when he looked up at her in confusion. It was like he was saying _How did you do this?_

"I won't kill him," she stated loudly, wanting everyone to hear her. "And I don't want you to kill him either."

A murmur of surprise and outrage swept around those present, and despite her statement everyone seemed to take a tighter grip on their weapons, even more ready to fire. They must think she had gone soft, that he had won her over because she was an easy target, and so she hastened to explain. She made her way over to Rick's side, joining him as he stared down at Negan.

"We're going to build a new world, without him," she declared. "One that he gets to see, but never be a part of."

On the ground Negan gave a short laugh, looking up at Rick. "Come on, Rick…kill me."

Behind them came a shout of anger, Maggie hurriedly making her way forward. "Kill him!" she ordered, looking at Carrie in desperation. "He killed Glenn. You were there, you saw what he did!"

"I know, Maggie."

"Rick…" she started, appealing to him next. "Please, Rick!"

"Kill him!" another person ordered, Natania also making her way to the front. Her eyes were wild with contempt as she spat at him. "Where was his mercy for my son? For Quincy?"

"Rick, Rick, Rick…" Negan sneered, looking up at him. "Kill me. Kill me…you know you need to. You promised."

"No," Carrie repeated, continuing to stand her ground. "He does not get to have peace," she shouted, addressing him personally now. "You have to live with what you've done. You have to live knowing what _Lucille_ would think of you."

Negan shook his head, sitting back on his heels in exasperation. "No…no."

"Rick," she implored, begging him to understand. "He wants to die. He just begged me to kill him…he begged."

Rick just stood there with his Colt pointed at Negan, paralysed with indecision as he stared down at him. This was not the plan…none of this was the plan. Negan had to die, that was the only thing that everyone agreed on unanimously. There had never been even the notion of letting him live for any reason, until now.

"Why?" he asked quietly, not once looking up from Negan. "Why should I let him live?"

"To punish him. He wants to be with his wife, Lucille."

Rick gave little to no reaction to this news, but she could see that his mind was racing, that he was struggling with the choice. Behind them Maggie was screaming at Rick to shoot, shouting Glenn's name as if he needed the reminder of who and how much they had lost. Negan slumped forward onto all fours, curling his fingers into the sand as he gave a low growl of frustration. A sinister laugh grew in the base of his throat, and by the time he looked up it was with the usual cruelty and indifference in his eyes.

"She let me hold him," he started, resorting back to taunts. "She let me hold your boy - your little boy!" he shouted at Rick. "He's so perfect. So perfect and innocent, and she let me hold him. He'd be mine now if I'd just killed you…so kill me! Kill me!"

Beginning to understand, Rick slowly took a step back, lowering his gun. Understanding began to dawn on the others too, for as Negan's taunts fell on deaf ears he quickly crumbled again, seeing that his desire for death was slipping further and further away. Everyone watched on in stunned silence, bearing witness to the man who had been broken by Carrie Grimes.

"We fucked her!" Negan cried out, desperate for anything that would incite Rick to kill him. "We rode her like the town bike! Your pregnant wife, taking dick fro…" When Rick started forward he trailed off with a low moan, unable to hide the wretched sob that slipped from his throat. "Yes…" he begged. "Thank you."

Eyes devoid of almost all emotion, Rick turned his Colt around in his hand and then raised it, using the butt to hit him over the head. Carrie flinched as she heard the sound of it striking him, and it took two blows before Negan slumped over into the sand with a pained groan. Without questioning his split second decision Rick rolled him onto his front and fumbled to seize both hands, handcuffing them behind his back. But still Negan didn't quit, still begging Rick to do it, to kill him like he promised he would.

The stunned silence lasted no more than a few short moments, soon broken by Maggie who was shouting again for Negan to be killed, crying mournfully as Michonne held her back. Nearby Natania was also putting up her best fight to get to Negan, other people coming forward to hold her back as she shouted her son's name, demanding she avenge his murder. Discord quickly swept among the many members of each community, the angry protests of Oceanside escalating as Rick pinned Negan down and called for help.

People were coming towards them now, and Carrie started forward to shield Negan from them, but she stopped short. It was people on her side, those like Carol and Rosita who seemed to have at least grimly understood how she wanted Negan to suffer, and they came forward to hold him down as he struggled and fought against them. As fresh blood was spilled on the white sand Rick lost his temper and struck Negan a third and fourth time, satisfied only when he was conscious but dazed.

"Save him," he ordered, summoning a timid faced stranger Carrie had never met before.

The stranger came forward only at Carl's encouragement, hands trembling as he scrummaged around in a backpack for medical supplies. Meanwhile Rick, Carol and Rosita held Negan still, ignoring the shouts of the increasingly angry mob around them. On the ground Negan was coughing, white sand on his face and in his hair as he kept putting up a fight, shouting at them to stop. But to Carrie's relief everyone started to settle again, bringing into the harsh light the sound of Maggie's grief, a grief that spoke for all of them in one way or another.

Carrie looked up just as Daryl came towards her, reaching one hand out and trying to usher her away from here. She took a few steps and then stopped in her tracks, looking around. "Where's Calvin?"

"Over there," he said shortly, pointing him out and then tugging on her arm. "C'mon."

Standing up on Maggie's porch was Lana, and still wrapped in his blankets was Calvin, sleeping on undisturbed by the commotion around him. Nearby was Carl who was doing his part to keep the angered people at bay, forcibly shoving some people away and shouting at them. When Daryl tugged at her arm again she went with him, letting him lead her back towards her cabin that had been the scene of all this.

"Carrie!" Negan called out, shamelessly pleading. "Don't fucking do this to me! Please, Carrie!"

Ignoring him and everyone else she returned to her cabin, but the feeling of relief from coming home was gone now. It was immediately clear that she was not entering a safe place of refuge, that this was not her home. When they entered Daryl was momentarily taken aback, looking around at the mess of spilt blood, and she could see him looking back at her, gauging if any of it was hers. She stood in the living room looking at the mess, Lucille discarded onto the kitchen floor, the carpet and couch stained with blood, smears of it here and there, bloodied fingerprints marking Judith's toys. This was their home, temporary, but still their home, and yet Negan managed to infect it with his misery.

"Come on," Daryl said impatiently. "Pack your shit."

"W-why?"

Halfway into Judith's bedroom he stopped, looking at her. "You wan' stay here with them?" he questioned, gesturing to the front door. "They ain't your friends no more…not if you're doing this."

There was no need to clarify what he meant, nor to question the necessity. No doubt her plea to let Negan live was enormously unpopular, particularly considering his death had been the terms of them going to war in the first place. But she couldn't expect everyone else to understand, particularly so when they hadn't lived through what she had, hadn't seen Negan's pathetic fall from power.

Daryl went into the smaller bedroom and started there, grabbing Judith's clothes out of the closet and stuffing them into the pillowcase from her bed. Carrie too tried to start, shakily beginning to collect the toys they had brought with them, all the while in the background she kept hearing the commotion outside, Negan still calling to her, begging the others to kill him. People like Maggie seemed to have gone quiet though, perhaps overcome with grief and anger.

Two hours later Carrie was gone from Oceanside, having packed her family into a car in order to make a hasty departure. Negan was long gone by now, for as soon as Saddiq declared him fit enough for travel they bundled him into one of the cars, keeping him immobile and restrained. All in all it had taken no more than fifteen minutes to get him the hell away from Oceanside, and they had left with such haste that Carrie and Rick didn't even get to say goodbye to one another.

Daryl was right about her no longer being welcome in Oceanside, that much was made painfully clear by the behaviour of people who had up until now been kind to her. People who only that morning had watched Judith play or marvelled over Calvin now looked at her in disgust, and she suspected the only reason they didn't shout and abuse her was that she had the kids with her. Even as they slowly drove through the community on their way out she could see that things were still in disarray, some like Michonne having stayed back to try and keep the peace and smooth things over, but Carrie doubted that was going to happen. Before they left she had tried to say goodbye to Maggie, but she had turned away from her, and Rosita hadn't quite been able to look her in the eye.

Had she just broken her community in half? Had she alienated half of her own people?

The drove in near silence, the only sound coming from the stereo that played a random mix of whatever music was in the glove compartment. Lana was driving while Carl rode shotgun beside her, and crammed in the back with the two children seats was Carrie. In the middle was Calvin, wide awake and content enough with the mobile that hung across his capsule, while on the far side was Judith. She had cried for twenty minutes straight when they left, devastated that they were leaving without warning, inconsolable even when they told her they were going to the Kingdom. It was only the assurance that she was going to see her dad soon was of any comfort to her, helping quieten her cries into miserable hiccups and whimpers until she eventually fell asleep.

Sitting in the open trunk among all their luggage was Daryl, having valiantly tried and failed to distract Judith from her crying. Now she was asleep he sat quietly looking out the back window, having become silent like the rest of the passengers. At this feet wrapped in a towel was the infamous baseball bat, the namesake of Negan's late wife Lucille. As they hurried to pack up their belongings Daryl had come across it discarded in the kitchen and made the call to bring it with them, unsure of what else to do with it. Certainly it wouldn't be returned to Negan, but perhaps there was a use for it in the future, a way for it to become a symbol of what was no longer tolerated.

Exhausted and emotionally spent Carrie closed her eyes and tried to rest, but she couldn't switch her mind off. She wondered where Rick and Negan were now, if they were very far away from Alexandria? What would happen when they got there? Would they have somewhere secure enough to keep Negan long term? What if Negan tried something to hurt himself, what if he hurt someone else in the process? Self centeredly she wondered if he was still asking for her, or if he had given up already. Did he finally understand that she wasn't a kind person, that she had only ever been docile and agreeable to protect herself? His present circumstances were not fate or chance…he was alive because of her, because of what she did to him, and she hoped he knew that.

"Mo-om," Judith whined, rubbing her eyes as she roused. "Mom, I'm thirsty."

Wrenching her thoughts away from Negan and back to her family, Carrie reached for the duffle bag at her feet and pulled it up to her lap. "Do you need to go potty?" she asked, passing Judith her water bottle.

She shook her head negatively, taking a long drink of water and then giving an _ahh_ of satisfaction. Done with it she passed it back and then gave a heavy sigh as she looked around the car, annoyed to find herself restrained for another journey. On their trip down Aaron had been tasked with keeping her entertained, reading her books and singing songs with her, and so Carrie looked through the duffle bag again. She had the Shania Twain CD in there, ready to be brought out only when Judith reached the end of her tether and started putting up a fuss again, along with a few other books and toys that ought to keep her entertained.

Passing her a colouring book and a few crayons she showered her with attention for a few minutes, and when she happily started entertaining herself she again turned her attention back to the duffle bag. She rummaged around inside, looking for the small item she had found back at the cabin, an item she hadn't yet been able to properly consider. It took her a few minutes to find it, and she had just started to worry it had been lost when she saw it hiding at the very bottom amongst gum wrappers, a spare diaper and a grape juice box.

It must have fallen out of Negan's leather jacket when it was tossed it aside earlier, that was the only explanation she could find for the presence of this small wooden box. She remembered him reaching into his jacket earlier, claiming he had a gift for the baby, and this must be it. Scarcely larger than the width and length of her palm it was the perfect size to stow in one's pocket, and she imagined Negan bringing this with him from the Sanctuary to Alexandria and then to Oceanside, keeping it safe and undamaged the entire way. Considering it she ran her fingers over the blonde coloured wood, feeling how smooth and polished it was. An intricate pattern was carved into the top allowing her to peer through to the inside, compelling her to open the lid to better see.

At first glance she understood what it was, the metal drum, combs and turning gears signalling it was a music box. On the rear was a small knob to wind, and so she promptly turned it as far as she could and then closed the lid, her heart warming as the sweet sound of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star began to play. She noticed everyone's attention pick up at the sound of the music, and as the notes played she brought the music box closer to Calvin, liking the way he looked towards the it, turning his head in curiosity. When the tune finished she wound the knob again and let it start over, settling it on Calvin's lap and observing him as he listened to it.

"Mom," Judith piped up. "I need to go potty. Right now."

This came at no surprise, for Carrie had suspected she would need to go by now. Having heard the request Lana was already slowing the car down, everyone sitting to attention and looking around to ensure the area was clear of Walkers. Unlike Carrie's journey down to Oceanside things were going smoothly, and this was their only stop so far. Carl swiftly stepped out of the car and unbuckled his sister, while Carrie, Lana and Daryl too stepped out.

While Carl lead his sister towards the side of the road Daryl followed with his crossbow raised, taking out a Walker lingering by the trees. Lana on the other hand stayed close to the car, keeping watch while Carrie scooped Calvin out of his capsule and brought him around to the open trunk. She had been able to smell a wet diaper, and so she took the opportunity to change him while they were stopped, also suspecting he would soon want to be fed again. As she laid him out on a changing mat and opened up his onesie she preemptively set the music box down beside him, letting him listen and look at it while she got him cleaned up.

"You get that from Twenty Two?" Lana enquired, keeping her voice down.

Keeping the diaper closed while Calvin did a last minute pee she avoided eye contact, having wondered too late if Lana would recognise the music box. "Yeah."

With a short sigh Lana sat on the edge of the trunk next to Calvin, looking at the music box. "Twenty Two cooked, he wasn't a carpenter. Negan gave this to you."

Not knowing what to say Carrie just remained silent, feeling ashamed that she hadn't stomped on the gift the moment she saw it. Instead she had stowed it into her bag before Daryl could see it, before anyone could question how she had come into possession of it. But a small part of her was keen to hang on to it for reasons she didn't quite understand. Negan had given this to her, to her son…it felt rude to reject it.

"It's okay, I won't say anything," Lana muttered, helpfully passing a clean diaper in exchange for the wet one. "Lucille was his wife, huh?" she asked quietly, winding the music box up again when the notes faded. "I saw the tattoo once, but he denied there was anything there."

Though Carrie nodded she promptly changed the subject, not wanting to talk about Negan anymore. "Your belly looks cute," she complimented.

Lana's features lit up, her eyes shining. "Really?" she questioned, looking down at herself. "I can't see anything yet."

"I can," she assured her, gesturing for her to stand up.

Finished with Calvin she scooped him back into her arms, holding him as Lana looked herself up and down again, scrutinising the slight curve of her belly. She thought back to the evening Maggie had spent with her so recently, the encouragement she offered and the reminder that one day soon Carrie would be in a different position. In a few months Lana would be a first time mom too, and it would be Carrie offering her encouragement and help…there was no reason that couldn't start now.

"Can you take him for me," she requested, passing Calvin over without waiting for an answer.

A few yards away Judith was on the verge of tears, refusing to squat down and pee in the dirt. Looking through their trunk full of belongings she found the plastic potty and hurried over, relieving Carl who had been trying to encourage his sister to pee on the ants, anything to get her to just go. As she calmed Judith down and then helped her sit on the potty like normal she tried not to think too much about the huge extremes she had been through that day. One minute she was advocating for the life of a murderer, and then she was back to being a mom, feeding her baby and helping her toddler go to the toilet. This day had been extreme in so many ways, and right now it was just about getting through it, getting back to the next place of safety where they could wait.

When Judith finished up she discarded the pee and wiped the potty down with a baby wipe, carelessly tossing it aside, the environment be damned. With the vicinity clear they wasted a few more minutes by allowing Judith to stretch her legs, Calvin nodding off to sleep in Lana's arms as they soaked up the sun together. When they got back in the car and resumed their journey Carrie felt disheartened, dreading what was coming next. They were heading back to the Kingdom to stay a little while, to wait until they got the all clear that Negan was securely imprisoned…but it was the latter she hadn't really considered.

Letting him live meant keeping him in Alexandria, taking responsibility for him…she hadn't really thought that through.

* * *

A/N - A Merry Christmas to everyone! Hope you enjoyed Carrie's decision to let him live, and her reasons why - I really liked Maggie's decision to make Negan live and suffer, and felt it was really fitting with what I had planned here.

Chapter 78 is perhaps my absolute favourite - it's just a light hearted catch up with our characters following a f _our year time jump_. All in all we've got four chapters more chapters to go - there was just so much good content to include after four years that I couldn't help myself.

Please review, and let me know what you want to see in the final four chapters. Thanks everyone!


	78. Chapter 78

Four years later.

Tuesday, November 1

* * *

Laying awake in the middle of the night Lana gave a heavy sigh, sitting up in her bed. Despite all efforts she couldn't help but be wide awake, and for the fourth or fifth time she plumped the pillows and turned onto her other side, trying to gently pry the blankets back over to her side. Finally comfortable and warm she lay facing away from Daryl, hanging onto those blankets for dear life and giving serious consideration to Carrie's tip of having two on the bed at all times. But the way they were tossing and turning right now was not at all unusual given they were still getting used to each other again.

Daryl had come home yesterday from nearly three weeks out on the road, either making his way between communities or stopping in to oversee repairs at the bridge they built last year. Just like always it was taking some getting used to him being home again, particularly sleeping next to him. As she lay there beside him she detested the silence…he never snored, it was weird. The only sounds came from his soft breathing, the only snores coming from Dog who slept on his blanket by the foot of the bed.

She was dozing when something roused her, and behind her she heard Daryl's breathing change, he too alerted to the change in their environment. Feeling a little short tempered she listened to the barely noticeable sound of little feet on the wooden floorboards, and she cracked her eyes open as a familiar silhouette crept into their room. They moved almost as silently as Daryl, approaching with caution for they knew they were not supposed to be out of bed.

"Go back to bed," Lana said sternly.

Matilda stood by her nightstand watching her, summoning up the nerve to wake her, but when Lana spoke she made a calculated retreat. But she didn't leave, not that Lana actually thought she might. Instead she slowly made her way around to the other side where Daryl slept, setting her sights on the parent who was easier to convince.

"Daddy," came her whispered voice. "I need to go potty."

"Then go," Daryl grunted, still half asleep.

"I need you to come with me."

"Why?"

There was a pause as she considered her reason. "Because I miss you."

 _Damn girl, you're good_ _,_ Lana thought to herself. Their daughter always knew exactly how to get her way, the right words to say, the right tone of voice and downfallen expression.

Not even putting a fight Daryl gave a short sigh, throwing back the blankets and getting out of bed. As he took her into their ensuite bathroom Lana seized her opportunity, leaping up from the bed and straightening the sheets and blankets back to the way she liked them. Daryl always got them twisted up during the night, and this was her chance to take control of them. By the time the toilet flushed and they returned she was back in bed, clutching her fair share of the bedding and willing to fight him for it.

Daryl didn't even try putting Matilda back to bed, instead just letting her get into bed with them the way she liked. He had to shuffle back a bit, making his arse press up against Lana's, and so she suggestively wriggled around a little bit. When that proved too subtle she waited until they both settled before reaching back to give him a little pat on the arse, one that instantly got his attention.

"Wha'?" he asked, lifting his head from the pillow.

"She's not the only one who's missed you."

"Tha' right?" he played along, his tone heavy with sleep.

"Mmm. I was going to welcome you home last night, but one of us fell asleep on the couch at seven thirty."

With an annoyed huff Matilda sat up in the bed. "Shhh!"

At this Daryl scoffed in derision. "You pipe down, or go back to your own bed." Heeding the threat she lay back down beside him, and Lana listened to the rustling of the sheets as she snuggled up with him. "She's your damn kid…"

Lana scoffed now, relinquishing some of the blankets so Matilda didn't get cold. "She's _all_ Dixon."

It was still dark out when the lamp on Daryl's nightstand roused her next, and she opened her eyes and reached out to find the bed beside her was empty. Matilda was standing at the end, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes while Daryl tied her long hair back into a bun. She was fully dressed in her hunting clothes, ready to venture beyond the walls and into the dangerous world to spend time with her dad.

"You sure it's a good idea to take her?" Lana murmured in concern, sitting up a little. "She looks tired."

If Daryl was bothered that she questioned him he didn't show it. "You wanna tell her she can't come?"

Instantly Matilda perked up a little, realising her favourite adventure was in jeopardy. "I'm going out," she insisted. "I'll be good."

Knowing she had no chance of winning that argument, even against a four year old, Lana accepted this and then wearily got out of bed. He tried, but Daryl just didn't take the time to do Matilda's hair properly, his work always resulting in knots that usually ended in tears or scissors. Ushering her into the bathroom she stood her in front of the mirror and dampened her hair, taking the time to properly brush the long tresses. As she worked she looked at their reflection in the mirror, amused when Matilda poked her tongue out.

Should anyone put them side by side the only evidence that they were mother and daughter was the colour of their hair. Yet put her beside Daryl and the resemblance was uncanny. From the moment she was born they could see that she had Dixon all over her, a resemblance that only strengthened as she grew up. Her blonde hair was thick and healthy, but no matter how Lana tried to style it nicely it would usually fall in curtains over her face just like Daryl's did. She had his eyes too, the greyish blue colour and shape unmistakably his. Lana didn't mind, and sometimes she wondered if it was nature's little way of reassuring him that he was indeed Matilda's father. She never had any doubt in her mind but she wouldn't have held it against him if he did, particularly given the state of things all those years ago.

Gathering her hair Lana carefully twisted it into a bun, ensuring that no knots would result. By now it was almost to her waist, and keeping it neatly styled in a tight bun was just one of many precautions Daryl took whenever their daughter joined him outside the walls.

"Now you listen to Dad and behave yourself," she reminded her, kissing her on the cheek and then taking a big hug. She was certain Matilda gave the best hugs in the world, for no matter how much she grew one way or another she was the perfect size to sit in Lana's lap for a cuddle.

"I will," she promised, tolerating another kiss before wriggling away and joining Daryl. "Let's go."

"Yes ma'am," he muttered, taking his crossbow down from atop the closet and then following Matilda out into the dark hallway.

Only a little worried about them, Lana laid back down and spread out, taking advantage of having the bed to herself again. This wasn't the first Daryl had taken their daughter hunting with him, and it wouldn't be the last either. He was cautious, rarely venturing more than a hundred yards or so, while Matilda had never set a foot out of line. In fact, it was the only time in her life she was completely silent and perfectly behaved, these qualities not exactly coming easy to her.

Matilda was a notoriously early riser, meaning Lana hadn't slept past five thirty in the morning since the last time Daryl took her hunting. When she eventually hauled herself out of bed it was well after eight o'clock in the morning, and by now Alexandria would be in full swing, many of their people having already completed their morning chores. Downstairs the kitchen was a mess, but Lana didn't mind. Her messy kitchen meant that not only had Daryl and Matilda returned safely, but he had fed her breakfast…and it seemed she wasn't the only one he had fed. Waiting on the kitchen counter was a lone slice of toast, stone cold exactly the way she liked it. Daryl was not hugely affectionate by nature, it just wasn't his way though she knew he loved her. But this gesture, always cooking her a piece of toast so it would be cold…that was what he did for her, his own way of showing and telling her that she was important to him, that he was thinking of her.

God dammit, she really had missed him.

Eating her toast she tidied up the kitchen and then ventured out into the garage, unsurprised by what she found. As she suspected he was out there working on his bike, Matilda sitting on her designated stool from which she wasn't permitted to move without permission. If he let her off that chair she would get her hands into everything, not that the rules didn't stop her finding a way to flout them. At her leisure she would stand up holding the stool to her butt, free to move about the garage without technically getting off it.

They had long ago accepted that she was too smart for them, and by now they had stopped trying to fight it. Somehow she walked almost silently though Daryl hadn't taught her too, and she was an escape artist when it came to her crib - despite being seven months younger she was the one who taught Calvin to scale the baby gate and unlatch the child locks on the kitchen cupboards. The consequences of her antics never fazed her, not even when she fell down from the top of the stairs. She just brushed herself off and got up, ignoring Lana who was tearfully rushing her to Saddiq.

Daryl glanced up, noticing her arrival. "Mornin'," he said, turning back to the bike. "Tilly, you say g'mornin' to Mum?"

"Morning Mum," she said sweetly, looking up. "We caught three rabbits and a snake."

"Well done you two."

"A-and Dog caught a mouse," she added. "But he ate it."

Dog was out there with them, laying in the threshold of the open garage door to keep watch over his people, Matilda especially. She and the kids wouldn't be allowed to play with him for a few days, for although he was a good dog he always needed a little down time when he came back from from being on the road with Daryl. It took a few days to remember that the only threat to his family in Alexandria was not a Walker, but a grumpy chicken.

"Come 'ere," Daryl said, summoning Matilda over. "You see that bit there…that. Get that off for me."

Eager to help she hastened over, following his direction and reaching into the engine, smiling when he gave her a nod of praise. She completed a few more tasks before sitting back down on her stool, her little fingers marred with grease that she wiped on Daryl's red rag. In that moment Lana looked at her lovingly, knowing she should have expected a daughter who would prefer playing in the mud or helping her dad than trying on Lana's shoes. Yet while she was entirely Daryl in appearance, she seemed to take after both parents in personality. Like Lana she was not a shy child by any means, having no problems making friends and talking to new people, and she always made her wishes known, quite vocally too. At times she could be short tempered and crabby, and then in the same breath burst into laughter at something she remembered from a week ago.

There must be something special between them that Lana just couldn't put her finger on, but Matilda seemed to recognise when Daryl's mood changed or darkened. Though Lana tended to leave him alone when he was in these moods, his mind regressing to that difficult time four years ago, she adored watching Tilly be with him. She could go from playing rambunctiously to sitting quietly at his side, knowing that he needed the quiet, that for whatever reason he couldn't bring himself out of the past and into the present. It was then that she was content to simply be by his side, quietly working together on the motorcycle…moments like this morning.

For the next few days, Daryl would be flavour of the month where Matilda was concerned. She adored her dad, but especially so because he was often leaving, his absence making her heart grow fonder. So while Lana could spend all day helping her with various things, making her food to eat and playing with her, the moment Daryl came home it was all about him. Nevertheless she didn't mind this, not too much anyway.

Daryl was a surprisingly good dad, sweeter and more patient than she expected. He adored Matilda and genuinely liked being with her, enjoying her company which some people just didn't with little kids her age. Given the ways things initially started Lana hadn't really expected he'd be like this, that even though he was sticking around he would be so committed. He was the first one to rise during the night when she was a baby, changing her diaper and comforting her. He would wake Lana only when she needed to be fed, simply saying _get your tits out_ and then waiting for her to be done. He never complained, he never seemed to resent the changes parenthood had forced upon them. In fact, just like Rick had commented it would, Matilda had been the making of Daryl, giving him a purpose external to his own suffering, a reason to make the most of the shitty hand he was often dealt.

"Hey, get us a drink would yah?" he asked, looking up at her. "Please?"

Lana quirked her eyebrow, but she did not protest. After all, he had let her sleep in and made her breakfast. She obliged, filling Matilda's water bottle at the same time, for she always became crabby when she didn't drink enough water. As she brought the drinks out she pondered what they might do today, glad that she didn't have any watch duties scheduled. There were the usual chores to complete, but their day was largely free to spend as they wished, though Matilda would likely be glued to Daryl's side wherever he went. At this thought she cringed, knowing that Daryl would likely take her on a motorcycle ride around the streets. Her four year old riding a Harley…she'd never get used to it, though they'd been riding together as soon as he could get ear muffs to fit her.

"No ice?" Daryl complained, taking the water.

Lana huffed at him. "What am I, your waitress?"

He took a sip and then set the glass aside. "You gon' be a waitress with no tip acting like that."

She was not at all bothered by his quip, and would jokingly say their entire relationship was built on banter and petty arguments. Some would say it was a poor foundation, even worse than being together only because of an unplanned pregnancy, but it worked for them. They kept their expectations of the relationship realistic, asking for what they needed without expecting too much of one another…and somehow it worked. Had things been different they probably wouldn't have been together, they would have gone their separate ways particularly given the twenty two year age difference. But together they had made it work for over four years now. Lana liked to think they had a good relationship, and Daryl seemed to think so too, not that he was really one for deep and meaningful discussions about it.

She grabbed a handful of ice cubs from the freezer, giving him a sweet smile as she slipped them into his glass. She waited until he thanked her and then leant down to kiss him, enjoying the touch of his lips against hers, the brush of his scraggly facial hair. But a split second later he gave a loud yelp, jumping up from the ground with a shout.

"Tip that."

"Dammit, Lana," he cursed, scrambling behind himself to find the ice cube she'd slipped into his jeans. "Shit…it's cold!"

"Laugh at Daddy," she said, getting Matilda riled up. "Laugh at him!"

"Pay back's a bitch," he warned, telling Dog to sit when he started barking at them in alarm.

Matilda dissolved into a fit of giggles, a sentiment echoed by the two arrivals who stood at the open garage door. Judith and Calvin stood there hand in hand, laughing at Daryl and knowing he had said some bad words. Meanwhile he scrambled to find the cube of ice, nearly tearing his jeans off in the process.

"Do you want to come to the park?" Judith asked, reaching out her free hand.

Matilda shook her head, turning on the stool to face Daryl.

"Yes, you do," he spoke for her, gesturing out towards the sunshine. "Go on. Go play."

"No," Matilda whined, gripping the edge of her stool with both hands. "I want to stay here with you."

"Go play," he said sternly, sighing when she shook her head again. "Go play, and I'll come watch in a minute."

She looked at him warily, not quite trusting that he would, and she needed a little more convincing. "When?"

"When I'm good an' ready. Now go," he repeated, ushering her up from the stool and towards the door. "Go."

Though she did as she was told it was clearly under protest, but they both knew it wouldn't last. The moment Judith took her hand she cheered up, already launching into a lengthy update on the her hunting adventure that morning. Hand in hand the three children walked down the driveway and onto the street, and Lana moved into the garage door to watch them go. As promised they were making their way towards the playground by the church, passing by the gardens and the tomato patch where she had been born a little more than four years ago. In the midst of labour Lana decided she wanted to walk in the fresh air, but fifteen minutes later she was on her knees holding a baby, completely dumfounded. She still couldn't remember who was more shocked, Saddiq, Daryl or poor Barbara who happened to be weeding. Years later she still joked that the tomatoes were more fruitful than expected.

"She's real chatty today," Daryl commented, already back working at the bike.

"We've missed you a lot," she explained, making sure he knew that she missed him too. "She was sick last week, and all she wanted was you. Even went down to the gates and told me she was waiting for you."

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"I wasn't trying to make you feel bad," she said quickly. "It was cute, that's all. She took her stool and everything."

"Her ears again?"

She nodded, passing him a clean rag when he gestured for it. "Cleared up quickly though. Saddiq did another hearing test, said she's fine."

"We should take her to the Kingdom," he said, dissatisfied. "Mak was giving some kids grommets the other week I was there. Asked him about her ears, said we should bring her to see him."

She nodded in agreement, not opposed even though it was a whole day journey. "I'll find out when Carl and Enid are going there next, we can hitch a ride with them. You saw Maggie?"

"Mmm, she's good," he answered, concentrating on a wheel bearing. "Hershcel's still a giggle guts."

Knowing she should have expected a less than informative answer she figured it would be better to ask Enid. Dwelling on the kids she looked back across the gardens, seeing that Matilda had stopped to talk to someone, while Judith and Calvin were waiting patiently, still holding hands. Those two were so adorable she could hardly bear it, and the longer she watched the two siblings the more resigned she was to a decision she'd reached only very recently.

Wiping his hands on his jeans Daryl got up and came over, her heart warming when she saw him reaching out to embrace her. She smiled at him, eager for any sign of affection he was capable of sharing, but it wasn't quite affection on his mind. There was a nice moment of having his arms around her, a moment in which she relished his return to their little family, but she squealed loudly when he slipped a cube of ice down the front of her shirt, retaliating back at her.

"Daryl, ugh!" she cried, fighting him as he pinned her arms to her side, free hand stuffing the ice cube further into her bra where she could not dislodge it. She cringed and moaned, but spluttered in between was laughter, both hers and his. Dog on the other hand was not so amused, and had risen to his feet to start barking at them.

"Sit 'own," Daryl commanded, still refusing to release her. "Sit Dog."

He didn't quite listen, pacing back and forth with a low whine, unsure of which person he needed to defend from the other. But soon Lana gave up the fight and resigned herself to the discomfort. Instead she turned her head back, clearing her throat expectantly and waiting for a kiss, one he wearily obliged.

"I hope you got a good feel," she grumbled, picking the piece of ice from her bra and tossing it to the floor. "Because that's all you're getting now."

Daryl just shrugged as he returned to his motorcycle, unconcerned. "I ain't the one who can't go without. You always coming crawling back lookin' to get some."

"Is that so?"

"Mmm."

She could see him looking at her from behind the hair that fell over his eyes, hair he wouldn't let her cut any more than a quick trim. Though he tried to hide it she could see his eyes moving, knowing he was looking her up and down, his mouth twitching even as he turned his attention back to his bike. Even after all this time he still hesitated to tell her what he wanted, that he might be up for a roll in the hay. It always seemed like he thought she'd reject him, and not because she wasn't in the mood, but a deeper rejection. As much as she used to fear he was only with her because of Matilda, he was afraid of the same things too.

Making the first move she came closer, sitting down on the low stool Matilda usually occupied. She brushed her knee against his, but when he didn't seem to notice she reached her hand out and placed it on his thigh, letting it linger there. Now he was playing coy with her, the little twitch in the corner of his mouth giving him away.

"You know, I've been thinking."

"Ahh. So that's what I can smell burnin'…"

She rolled her eyes, seeing how she had set herself up for that. "I've been thinking…that you're right."

Now she had his attention, for there was really only one thing they had been heatedly debating for the last two years. There was nothing to misunderstand. Silence lingered between them, Daryl concentrating as he finished up with something, but a few moments later he sat up straight. He looked at her almost warily, likely worried that she was going to pull the rug out from under him, that after such strong opposition she couldn't have possibly come around to what he wanted.

"What changed your mind?"

"I've been thinking about my brother lately, my sisters. And, you know…Judy and Calvin are just so damn cute," she smiled, thinking about the way they held hands when they took their daily walks together. "Plus with Amber's twins, and now Carrie…"

"Mmmm," he agreed, busying himself by rustling around his toolbox, looking for nothing in particular.

He was avoiding eye contact, trying not to get his hopes up, and so Lana persisted. "I know how much your bother meant to you, even though he…wasn't perfect," she said diplomatically, knowing to chose her words carefully where Merle was concerned. "I think you're right. It would be nice for Matilda to have a brother or sister."

He got up now, moving around to the other side of the garage where he began picking things up and almost immediately putting them down. Lana waited patiently, knowing to let him have his space, to let him feign indifference to the conversation that clearly meant a lot to him. She had still been breastfeeding Matilda when he asked her if she wanted another baby, looking taken aback when she said no. A year passed before he asked again, still surprised by her answer, almost offended. But it wasn't a dislike of him, and it wasn't that she regretted having Matilda, she just didn't think they had anything to prove by having another baby. Did he think having a second would prove their first wasn't a mistake?

The second time she refused him Daryl hadn't even tried hiding his disappointment, and after the third time he continued to bring it up again, insisting that Matilda needed a brother or sister, that they weren't doing her any favours by raising her as an only child. But as it tended to do the more he pushed her the stronger her opposition became, the debate almost bringing them to the brink of a serious problem until he finally let up. It had been a long time since he brought up the subject, though she could tell he still felt the same way, his feelings evident in the way he talked about Judith and Calvin. For a little while he had been dropping thinly veiled hints about how great the siblings were together, and was surprisingly happy when Amber and Mark announced they were having twins. But eventually he shut up about it all together, and it was this breathing room that allowed Lana to actually think about it rather than oppose the idea simply because he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Have you changed your mind?" she asked, prompting him to say something. Anything.

"Nah," he said quickly, still trying to look busy. "Just surprised you have, that's all."

"Well, you haven't been on my back about it lately. That's helped," she said, making herself clear. "I just needed time to actually decide for myself, that's all."

He stared at her a moment, not quite sure. "So, you want one?"

"Yeah, I do. You and I both had siblings. I want that for Matilda."

The corner of his mouth moved, a smile he quickly hid. "Go on then," he said brusquely, setting aside his pliers and reaching for his belt. "Bend over, let's do this."

Rolling her eyes Lana reached for one of the dirty rags, tossing it at him. "If I'm giving you a baby, you're wining and dining me."

"I'll get you off first, how 'bout that?"

"That's the bare minimum," she protested, trailing off into laughter when he actually started opening his belt. He was serious, they'd do this right now if she'd let him. "Uh uh, not now."

"What's wrong with now?"

Lana stood up from the stool, moving to his side and taking the ends of his belt. She stood there a moment, letting him linger on the question of what she was going to do, but she made a point of doing his belt up again. "I've got work to do, and you've got somewhere to be. Playground," she reminded him. "You want Matilda to be mad at you?"

Getting the hint he conceded, and in an instant the moment was gone, his interest diverted. "Fuck no. Girl pouts worse than you."

"Who do you think taught her to pout?"

Feeling rather amenable she gave him a little kiss, lingering there and relishing in what they'd agreed to. She liked that it made him happy, that she'd done something to bring a little joy to his day. To her pleasant surprise he kissed her back, properly this time. Now her previous argument about being busy suddenly felt less important, because he usually shied from showing his desire unless she was making the first move, and it was nice. She let her hands rise up the length of his arms, touching him at leisure and wishing it were summer again when he wore his sleeveless shirts.

Holding her against him he moved his lips down, kissing the dip in the base of her throat, his tongue tasting her skin. His rough facial hair tickled and made her shiver, and when her skin erupted into gooseflesh he gave a chuckle against her throat. He knew how to get her going, how to get under her skin.

"Come on," he implored, hands slipping into the back of her underwear to grip her arse. "I'll make it quick."

"You're getting me off first," she bargained.

"Always do."

They kissed lightly again, Lana sighing contently when she slipped her hands into his hair and pushed it all back off his face. He disliked this, always appearing a little shy when she made a point of looking at him properly, but she liked it when he wasn't hiding behind his hair. Able to see him more clearly she looked him in the eye, holding his gaze. As much as fatherhood had changed him he was still the same person he always was - difficult to reach out to, reluctant to trust, to form an emotional connection…but over their years together they had reached a middle ground. He would still live out on the road as much as he lived at home in Alexandria, but he was there with her, with their small family. Despite his frequent absences, he was a present father and partner to the best of his ability.

She was about to speak, to thank him for shutting up and giving her time to decide for herself that she wanted another baby. But from the corner of her eye she saw it coming, the inevitable _cock block_ that had grown impatient.

"Da-ad!" Matilda called out unhappily, jogging down the road towards the open garage. "Dad, are you coming?"

"In a minute," he called back, sighing in frustration. "Go play."

Lana chuckled under her breath, knowing his efforts were in vain. Matilda would not take no for an answer, not after waiting three weeks for him to come home from his latest journey away. "Go on…you know you don't have an option."

Slowing down Matilda arrived back home, looking rather put out. "Dad, you said you'd come watch me."

Liking his disappointment, Lana kissed him and straightened his shirt. "I'll ask Carrie to babysit after school. We can have the whole afternoon to ourselves."

"Whole afternoon, huh. You better make me a sandwich so I got the energy."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll rise to the occasion more than once."

He made a sound of embarrassment in the back of his throat, shaking his head at her. Having the last word he reached around and grabbed her arse, giving it a firm squeeze as Matilda impatiently called out to him again.

"Love you," she said.

"You too," he said automatically, letting her go and clicking his fingers at Dog.

He wearily headed off to the playground, refusing Matilda who asked for a ride on his shoulders. As Dog bounded off after them they walked hand in hand, Matilda skipping and swinging his hand as she chattered at him, telling him about all the things he was going to have to watch her do at the playground. Fondly watching them go Lana closed the garage door and then got on with her own day, collecting her coat and boots before she headed off to the Pantry kitchen. There were three rabbits and a snake to skin, not to mention the fresh milk that would have arrived by now.

Feeling rather elated by how well the morning was going, Lana walked with an extra spring in her step that day.

* * *

A/N Happy New Year everyone!

Just a short chapter as what should have been the other half (Rick POV) is not yet finished, and I didn't want to delay the posting of this chapter. I'll post again mid-week.

Hope you enjoyed the update for Lana and Daryl, and the life they've made for their family. If you're curious, I visualised Matilda as Emma Stauffer (Google her). What do you think about them? Are you happy with them and where they're at?

Rick and his family next chapter, and then Carrie after that :-)


	79. Chapter 79

As was normal, Rick was awake before the break of dawn, making his rounds of Alexandria. But this morning he was tired and crabby, having not gone to bed as early as he liked. At the very least Alexandria was quiet and peaceful right now, which was why even though he was tired and snuggled up against Carrie he hauled himself out of bed to enjoy the serenity of the cool November morning.

Alexandria had grown over the years, and while he used to make three laps of the walls in one walk these days he would complete only one lap in the same time. In the aftermath of the war Alexandria's population had almost tripled as people were relocated, and in the years that followed the population grew as people grew comfortable and contraception ran scarce. In four years nine babies had been born in Alexandria, and even more in the other communities. They had a small middle school that ran every afternoon, proceeded by the morning school group made up of toddlers and kindergarten aged children. The walls had been expanded in three directions, encompassing more houses and empty land upon which they had planted gardens and built new homes, school classrooms, a small sports field and workshop.

Outside the walls they had cleared a dozen large pastures, an enormous feat of tearing down houses to recycle their supplies, hundreds of trees that had been cut down and used for heating and building new homes and their pride and joy, the barn. It had been a lot of work for them to complete, one that required valuable resources and put people from every community into employment, and the work was yet to cease. Their livestock were thriving, and so more land would need to be cleared for pastures, and every pasture needed to be guarded from Walkers, an challenging feat in itself.

Almost finished for the morning Rick was passing by the south gate, the only area that hadn't expanded outward. Lingering to check in with the person on watch he saw Daryl and Matilda making their way over, getting ready to head out. The blonde haired girl was toting her very own crossbow that was just about as big as her, but she carried it without complaint and was by now a reasonably good bowman at only four years old. Daryl frequently took her out hunting when he was home, and he'd taken Judith and Calvin too, but only ever once. Judith had been too sociable and didn't like being told to be quiet, while Calvin couldn't sit still if his life depended on it, and out there it literally did. For them it would be a few more years before their uncle Daryl taught them to hunt, but Matilda was already comfortable and disciplined out there.

"Yah get any sleep last night?" Daryl teased as they passed one another by.

Rick smiled, for no doubt he wasn't the only one pleased to have Daryl home after three weeks. "Did you?"

Leaving them to it Rick finished up his morning walk of the walls, making his way up the pavement towards home, to the brownstone that used to be Deanna's. He mentally braced himself as he walked past the second last set of stairs leading down to a basement, and he received the usual morning greeting from the window down there.

"Good morning, Sheriff."

"Morning," he replied, politeness that kept things civil.

"How was that party last night, huh?" they said lightly. "Seemed to get a little rowdy up there."

This he ignored. He didn't even look around or slow his steps, because _that_ was a task he didn't have to deal with until later. Returning home just as the sky began to lighten he took off his jacket and boots at the front door, making his way upstairs to check on the kids. All was quiet through the house, and in Calvin's room he saw only little tufts of brown hair peeking out from beneath the blankets. He was moving, awake already, but Rick left him with the hope he would stay in bed rather than slow him down. In Judith's bedroom he opened the drapes to let the light in, allowing her a few minutes to wake up. Unlike her brother she didn't immediately rouse, and so he pulled back the blankets a little, giving her a gentle nudge.

Enjoying the peaceful silence of his home he ventured back into the main bedroom at the end of the hall, glad to see that Carrie was awake…well, almost. She had been awake when he left twenty minutes ago, and there had been a semi-conscious suggestion that she might be in the mood for a lazy morning of sex. Hoping the suggestion was still on the table he sat down on the bed, whispering to her. When her eyes fluttered closed with a short grunt he leant down and kissed the top of her shoulder, wondering if maybe…but she grunted at him again, louder this time, and he knew what that grunt meant. _Leave me alone, I'm sleeping_.

In disappointment he lifted the blankets a little. "Can I?"

He waited for her to respond, knowing that even all these years later she still didn't like to be touched if she wasn't in the right mood. But she grunted at him again, another sound he recognised and understood. _If you must_.

Lifting the blankets back further he slipped his hand underneath her pyjama shirt, touching her round belly. She was seven months pregnant, due in early January and already fed up with it. Saddiq had told them last month it was a girl, a daughter whose name they agreed would be Alexandria, Ally for short. It felt fitting, for when they decided to start trying for another baby it wasn't just for them, but for the future, for their community. Naming their daughter for the community in which she would be raised just felt right.

This pregnancy had been tough on Carrie, for though she'd largely avoided morning sickness it seemed she was paying the price in other ways. Her hips and lower back had been giving her pain ever since her fifteenth week, the discomfort making her limp by the end of the day and worsening as the weeks and months wore on. She was doing better lately, the Kingdom's chiropractor Wilson having temporarily relocated his family to Alexandria to take care of her, and Saddiq was closely monitoring her health.

As she got bigger the pain started to ease up, but she was still tiring quickly even after a short walk, and going up and down the stairs was done only at absolute necessity. He wouldn't be surprised if in a few weeks she permanently set up camp down in their living room so she didn't have to tackle the stairs at all. It would be her birthday later this month, her thirty ninth, and he was determined to make sure she had a good day, that she didn't have to lift a finger. Rick hadn't been out on a run or a trip to the other communities for two months so he could be at home with her, and admittedly it was nice to have a break. But once Ally was here and things were settled he would have to get back to making his usual trips. He had to put in face time with the other communities, he had to keep the relationships strong.

Pulling the blankets back over her he kissed Carrie on the cheek and then left, closing a gap in the drapes so that the light didn't bother her. In their bathroom he brushed his teeth, glancing at himself in the mirror and wondering if he had aged again…in his mind he still felt like a young man, he had another baby on the way after all, but sometimes his body didn't feel as young as it used to. Out of habit he lifted his shirt and looked at the newest scars on his front and back, the injury that still ached when he moved the wrong way. It made his stomach churn when he looked, too easily remembering the sheer horror of taking a simple fall from his horse and then finding a piece of rebar sticking out of his flesh. He quickly tucked his shirt in and washed his face, ignoring the memories that came flooding back, the agony of thinking it was over for him, that he'd never see his family again. Almost two years later he remembered the intense wave of misery he felt, the hopelessness.

Getting on with the day he crept past Calvin's room and into Judith's, rousing her again when he found that she hadn't moved an inch from how he left her. Her face was buried in her pillow, and to his annoyance he found a small book tucked beneath the blankets, the pages crumpled from when she had fallen asleep reading. Searching the bed he came across the flashlight she must have been using, but despite being annoyed by the waste of batteries he simply turned it off and roused her again. Many a time he had told Carl off for reading past his bed time, frequently coming home from work in Kings County and having to turn off a flashlight when he went to tuck him in.

"Judith, it's time to get up," he said firmly, nudging her more persistently now.

Her eyes cracked open, and in an instant he could see she was tired. "I don't want to," she whined, snuggling further into her blankets.

"I know you don't, but you've got responsibilities. It's time to get up."

She delayed a little longer, trying again to bargain with him until they reached a suitable middle ground. "Can I go back to bed after?"

"You can take a nap with Mom," he suggested, knowing she'd like that. "Won't that be nice?"

Perking up a little Judith nodded, and though it took yet more coaxing she rose from her bed. Downstairs he helped her with her coat and boots, too tired and sleepy to properly tie her laces herself. Even after a good night of sleep she was slow moving in the mornings, but she was a good worker once she got started…it was just a matter of getting her going. She was eating a piece of fruit as he helped with her gun holster, watching as he showed her that her pistol was loaded, that she needed to be responsible with it. Unaware that she was only ever carrying blanks she nodded dutifully, reciting her responsibilities as a new gun owner. He had been teaching her to shoot for a year now, unable to ignore the necessity and the fact that she was getting older now, that children younger than six commenced their training. Though he wasn't yet ready to give her the responsibility of having it loaded he was getting her used to carrying it on her person whenever he took her outside, even if he wouldn't actually permit her to use it.

Just as he was holstering his own gun and slipping some knives and water into his satchel the sound of feet upstairs came to his attention, and with a weary sigh he realised his departure was about to be delayed yet again.

"Dad!" Calvin called out urgently, appearing at the top of the stairs. "Dad, wait for me!"

"Are you dressed?"

"Yeah!"

Rick looked up to the top of the stairs, unable to deny that he was in fact dressed and ready to go. Well, almost. "You need to get your shoes. Hurry up."

Calvin disappeared in a flash, racing up the hallway back to his bedroom and no doubt disturbing Carrie who was trying to sleep. Noting how pleased Judith was that her little brother was coming, for those two were genuinely peas in a pod, he summoned a little more patience for the sake of them. When Calvin came down he was wearing mismatched shoes, but they were at least on the correct feet. One a green rubber boot was ready to go, but Rick lingered to tie the laces on the other sneaker, making sure to not leave anything for him to trip over.

At this thought he inspected the underside of Calvin's chin, seeing the faint white line from where he split his chin a few months ago, taking a simple fall on the pavement. When he heard the blood curdling scream he honestly felt his heart stop, for Calvin hardly ever made a fuss over bumps and scrapes, but this was a scream unlike he'd ever heard. There had been blood everywhere and the cut necessitated stitches, and it just happened to be a day that Carrie was out visiting the Hilltop, one of her few overnight trips away from Alexandria. Needless to say she hadn't been keen on taking another trip since.

Before they left he gave Calvin another quick once over, unable to miss the large bulge in the back of his coat. "You can't bring Gremby. Leave him here."

Calvin just blinked at him, trying to look innocent. "I'm not."

"Calvin, I can see him."

Judith giggled, looking at her brother's back. "His feet are poking out of your coat."

Calvin's face fell, his bottom lip poking out. "But I _need_ to bring him with me."

"The answer is no," Rick said firmly, reaching back and plucking the knitted Gremblygunk from inside the coat. He used to let him bring Gremby outside with him, but one fateful day he left him out there, and Rick was the one who had to go out in the pouring rain to find it. "He stays here, or you're not coming."

To Calvin's credit he protested only a little further, finally agreeing to leave Gremby on the couch. With both kids ready they departed the house together, departing by the courtyard gate so they could make one stop. In the driveway between their house and the Infirmary he went to the second garage and opened it, looking inside at one of their prison cells. This one was occupied on only rare occasions, but last night it had been full thanks to the overly enthusiastic Halloween celebrations. Sleeping outside the bars was Saddiq, their doctor posted to keep watch over the town drunks for the night.

While Judith and Calvin waited quietly Rick opened the cell, creeping through the figures who had to sleep on the concrete floors with nothing other than blankets for comfort. They were all in various states of dress, young Henry still wearing his Batman costume, while someone was wearing a police uniform borrowed from Rick, and another in a full penguin suit. Their Halloween party had been in the works for months now, young people from every community aligning their work schedules so they could all be working at or near Alexandria in late October. With the way they all worked so hard no one begrudged them the opportunity to let their hair down and have a good time, even if perhaps that had too much of a good time. This was the third time they'd hosted a party, but the first time they were permitted alcohol, not that they didn't get their hands on some in the previous years.

Reaching the one he was after Rick nudged him with the toe of his boot, reaching down and taking the wide brimmed hat off his face. Carl cringed and turned away from the light, giving a pathetic whimper as roused. He was still wearing his Joker costume, a purple shirt and green vest, black eye shadow and red lipstick smeared all over his face. It was the first time he'd dressed up as anything other than a pirate, his own self depreciating joke, but this year he had tried something different to go along with his newfound taste for rum.

"Come on son," he said loudly, not caring if he disturbed the other party goers sleeping it off. "Time to embrace the day."

Carl grunted, raising his hand to shield the light from his face. "Embrace this, old man," he muttered, sticking his middle finger up at him.

Behind them Judith giggled, and Rick couldn't help but share her amusement. Carl was suffering indeed, and it served him right - a raging hangover was the best way to learn about the perils of drinking too much.

"Come on. This is your punishment."

"For having a party? Come on, Dad…"

"No," he laughed, finding it funnier now than he did late last night. "Punishment for disturbing the peace. You don't remember finding the megaphone? Declaring your love for Enid?"

The young man in the penguin costume started to laugh, rolling over onto their other side and pulling the blanket over their head. "I love you Enid," they mimicked. "Enid, I love you so much!"

At this the figure on the only mattress raised their head. "Huh?" Enid muttered, looking around at the sound of her name. Just like Carl she'd had a big night at the Halloween party, her Harley Quinn make up smeared and her pig tails in disarray. She was the first one to be brought in here last night, luckily getting the only bed and refusing to share it even with Carl.

Carl blinked as he began to remember, sheepishly rubbing his face. "Well, I wanted her to know."

"Now everyone knows," Rick lectured. "Even your little brother, who you woke up. Come on now, get up."

To his credit Carl nodded, slowly pushing himself up onto his knees and reacquainting himself with which way was up. "Sorry," he apologised, thanking him when he passed a bottle of water and some paracetamol.

"This will teach you not to drink so much," he lectured, passing him his holsters and guns. He might have been thrown in the drunk tank, but at the very least he knew not to carry his weapons when he was in for a night on the bottle.

"I know. I'm sorry, Dad."

His remorse was genuine, but Rick's disappointment in him isn't quite so bad as he made it out to be. He sure remembered his own days of being young and drinking alcohol for the first time, and to his credit this was the first time Carl had been less than a golden child. For the last few years he and Enid had been serving as a liaison between Alexandria, the Hilltop and Oceanside, overseeing every trade between all communities and trying to mend bridges between them and Alexandria. They were gone for weeks at a time as they made their route between all four communities, and every time he left Rick felt at a loss, hating it. By now he ought to be used to Carl's absence, to the notion the he was a grown man of nineteen, but he just couldn't let go. Carl could be fifty years old with children and grandchildren, but he would still be Rick's little boy, and it would still hurt every time he left.

"Why do you look so silly?" Calvin asked, taking his brother's hand as they began their journey across town. "Your face is all funny."

"Oh, yeah," he remembered, reaching up to touch the costume makeup. "It was for the party."

"A party? Can I come to the party?"

"You went to the kids party. You were a dog, remember?"

"Hey Carl!" Judith shouted, running ahead of them and waiting until he looked. "Watch this. Carl, watch this!"

"Yeah, yeah…"

When Judith showed him her newfound talent of doing a cartwheel she shouted for him to watch again, and Rick couldn't help but enjoy the way he cringed at the volume, the way he shielded his face from the morning sun.

"I - I can do it too!" Calvin claimed, letting go of Carl's hand and rushing forward to join his sister. "Carl, watch me!"

As Carl nodded and did his best to look impressed Rick clasped him on the shoulder, offering a slither of sympathy. "It's nice to have you home."

With a deep breath he managed to nod in agreement, smiling a little. "Nice to be home."

While Judith and Calvin kept showing off they incrementally made their way across Alexandria, passing their old house where Amber and Mark lived with their two young boys and Gloria. They passed the pig sty, greenhouses and gardens, and then they reached the western gate and checked in with those on watch, keeping count of who departed and returned from the pastures each day. Mallory was on watch this morning, kept company by her son Dean, the first child born in Alexandria following the end of the war. Having been one of the workers at the Sanctuary Mallory and her family were prioritised for relocation, and they arrived in Alexandria only one day before Dean was born.

"You're running behind this morning," Mallory commented, smiling at him. "These three holdin' you up?"

"They are indeed," he nodded, shaking his head at each of his children.

When she gave them the all clear Mallory opened the gate from up top to admit them through, and as if walking into a parallel universe Judith and Calvin settled, having been trained over and over again to be on their best behaviour outside the walls, to keep their voices down. Not needing to be told Calvin reached up to take Carl's hand, while Judith took Rick's.

Following what they already practiced and what they had learned at Oceanside, the wider areas surrounding Alexandria were abundant in traps and diversions. These days they hardly got Walkers out here, making it safe for their livestock and crops, and the people who tended to them. Rick and Carrie had almost no hesitation bringing their children out here, even Calvin who was still so little, who really didn't understand the dangers. But they were always perfectly behaved out here, not wanting to risk their _outside privileges_ , for they absolutely loved going outside the walls. The way they lived now was a far cry from what it was like when they first arrived in Alexandria, the days when Carl had to sneak outside the walls to get a little freedom and breathing room.

Rebuilding after the war hadn't been an easy task, and admittedly it wasn't one Rick had planned ahead for. At the time his priority was bringing the war to an end, his mind not preoccupied by the notion of what would happen after when they tried to turn five communities into four. Over the months that followed Negan's capture the Saviours had been completely disbanded, the Sanctuary now a shell of its former self, stripped of any supplies and building materials salvageable.

Most people had been easy enough to re-home, groups forming and going before the four leaders of each community to request a place. Those like Amber and her mother had been easy enough to home in Alexandria, the two of them coming here while Mark sat trial and served five month of labour at the Kingdom, similar punishments given to most of Negan's general foot soldiers. He served his time and then was allowed to settle in Alexandria, rejoining his wife and mother in law and then getting on with his life. Mark had been hugely involved in Alexandria's expansion and the building of new structures, he and Amber welcoming twin boys a little over a month ago.

Other Saviours were not so straightforward to manage, namely the soldiers like Dwight who spent over a year imprisoned at the Hilltop, sentenced to labouring work while the four communities argued over him. No matter the remorse he showed or how hard Sherry advocated for her husband's release, Dwight simply wasn't welcome in any of their communities. People like Carrie and Daryl wouldn't even entertain the notion of him coming to live at Alexandria, Oceanside refusing outright, but he had to go somewhere.

Having dissolved the Saviours all together they couldn't let any of the former members rejoin forces, the risk was simply too great. So Dwight ended up at the Kingdom, King Ezekiel being the most liberal about those his community were willing to take in. There were enough people there that Dwight and Sherry could blend in and go about a quiet life, and over the last four years Dwight had not made a single ripple, hadn't raised a single complaint about the ongoing labour he was sentenced to in order to earn his keep.

Other high ranking and die hard Saviours hadn't been so lucky. Out of a total seventy two prisoners they took, seven were sentenced to exile. Gavin, Regina, Paula, Jared, Jed, Justin and Norris, Negan's most trusted and loyal followers. They were the people who carried the potential to one day cause an uprising, the extremists that could never really be trusted again. None of the communities wanted them, not even Ezekiel, and so the communities faced a stalemate. The Hilltop were sick and tired of accommodating so many prisoners, they wanted to be free of the burden, and though Rick was willing to consider taking them Alexandria didn't yet have the facilities to keep them securely imprisoned.

It was then that things started to really go off the rails, Jesus and Maggie making the sudden decision to execute all seven of the Saviours no one wanted. There had been no consultation with the other community leaders, all seven were simply taken away from the Hilltop and executed, their bodies left to suffer the indignity of turning and rising again. It was this event that set off a chain reaction of small clashes, tensions and hostility escalating among the four communities.

Much of it stemmed from Maggie, from the collective animosity that Rick and Carrie had made the call to imprison Negan rather than give everyone the closure and satisfaction of his death. Already Alexandria was being cut out of the Hilltop and Oceanside's trades, and as things grew worse communities started becoming territorial, sensitive about who was allowed where and for how long. Alexandrian's found themselves being turned away from visiting Oceanside, or only begrudgingly allowed into the Hilltop, Rick not even allowed to visit with Herschel and marvel over how he had grown.

The credit was to Carl and Enid for getting the community relationships back on track, they being one of the very few people who were welcomed at each place without question. They were the ones who got fair trades running again, putting in the legwork of going back and forth between the communities, but it was Michonne's later work that really solidified the long term cooperation. She was relentless in her pursuit of a treaty among the four communities, a set of rules and guidelines they would all recognise. They had started small, bringing all four leaders into one place to discuss the basic expectations they had of one another, and once those initial agreements were reached tempers began to cool. All people were permitted to come and go again, Rick no longer being met with questioning looks when he arrived at Hilltop to see Maggie, to reach out to her. She allowed he and Carrie to see Herschel again, and at every visit from Carl and Enid the two families exchanged photographs of their children, doing what they could to rebuild the relationship at such a distance.

Carl stopped at the well, pumping some water into a bucket and washing the costume makeup off. He looked thoroughly hungover as he wearily took off his green vest and rolled up his shirt sleeves, breathing heavily. Trying to splash some more water onto his face he then tied his hair back into a pony tail, pulling it off his face completely. Though it wasn't as long and unruly as it used to be he still tore it long enough to tie back, and Rick had to admit he somehow pulled off the look. It had been years since he wore the bandage over his scars, and it was nice that he didn't try to hide his injury from the world. Was it biased to think he was a good looking young man? He was immensely proud of Carl, of the work he did to keep all four communities working together. There was no doubt in his mind that he was becoming a young man worthy of great things.

At the same time this thought occurred Carl puked spectacularly, groaning and heaving as his younger siblings scrambled to get out of the way. Whimpering a little he stood hunched over, trying to catch his breath while Rick sighed.

"I just got done thinking about how proud I am of you."

Still hunched over Carl stuck his middle finger up at him for the second time that morning, panting for breath as he began to dry heave, and now there was only one thing for Rick to do. There wasn't much of it left, but he picked up the bucket of water and tossed it over Carl's head, sending Judith and Calvin into hysterics. Carl just moaned under his breath, dripping wet.

"Thanks," he said weakly, slowly standing upright. Wringing his hair out he took a few deep breaths, trying not to look at the mess on the grass. "Think I needed that."

"You feel better?" he asked, quietening the kids.

"Almost," he muttered, taking the bucket and putting it back beneath the tap. He pumped a little more and then washed his face again, tentatively taking a few mouthfuls to drink. "Oh yeah…that's heaps better."

Waiting patiently, for there was no point rushing when he was already behind schedule, Rick waited until he was sure Carl was feeling alright, not wanting to push him too much. But he quickly perked up after a piece of dry toast pre-emptively prepared for him, and then without any qualms he reached for his little brother's hand.

"You sure you're okay with him?" Rick confirmed, giving him an out if he needed it.

"Yeah, we're good," he assured him, smiling at Calvin who was already hammering him with questions, unusually chatty given his adored big brother was home. Together they made their way to the stables where his and Enid's horses were kept, needing to tend to them and their needs.

They too walking hand in hand, Rick and Judith headed in the opposite direction to the barn where the cows were. Alexandria had seven cows, the responsibilities shared on a rotation of work among all the residents, but Rick happily took the responsibility of milking every morning he could. Though it was often demanding, particularly in the cooler months, he enjoyed the task of milking the cows, finding it as peaceful and relaxing as tending to the gardens. It was one of the rare times he got to be completely alone with his thoughts, at least until Judith had started joining him every morning, the council having agreed to give her the responsibility of owning and looking after Oreo, their newest calf.

By now Mark was already in the milking pen with Cookie, while Trudy was making her rounds to check the pastures further out. When he and Judith entered the barn they were met with the usual chorus of moos from the cattle, every one of them peering over the enclosures and greeting them cheerfully. But a few of them made their displeasure known, reminding him that he was late today, that they'd been waiting for him.

With Rick's supervision Judith opened the stall to their newest calf Oreo, and without delay she slipped the rope around his neck and encouraged him to come out. Knowing the routine well Oreo followed her, vocalising eagerly until Rick brought out his mother, Donut. By now it was a well practiced routine, Rick and Judith walking side by side as they led their cows out of the cattle shed to the milking station. In no time at all they were both tethered in place, Donut eating her hay while Oreo eagerly started to nurse, hungry after being separated throughout the night.

With Judith's help he got started quickly, hoping to catch up to Mark who already had half a bucket from Cookie. Daryl's dog Dog was already out there waiting at the fence, pacing back and forth and eagerly awaiting his morning treat, one he didn't get anywhere else. He barked when it was taking too long, anxious that he was going to miss out, and then Rick drew the first few squirts of milk directly at him, discarding them. Judith smiled as she watched on, both of them laughing at Dog who eagerly lapped it up, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he continued pacing back and forth waiting for more.

"Go on," Rick said, gesticulating at Dog. "Get outta here."

Though he barked a few more times Dog finally scampered off, bounding across the pasture and disappearing into the trees in search of Daryl and Matilda who were out hunting. Getting on with things Judith brought over a clean bucket for him to get started with, and with his approval she wandered off to complete her other chores, checking the water troughs in the field where the cows would be sent out to pasture. Even as he started the milking Rick kept a close watch over her, as did Mark. The area had been clear of Walkers when they arrived, and she wouldn't need to go any further than where he could see her, but it still unnerved him that she was so far out without him by her side. Giving his growing children their independence hadn't been easy.

Like normal the milk was frothy and rich, their dairy cows producing the tastiest milk he could ever recall drinking. In what felt like no time Carl and Calvin returned from the horses, automatically moving on to the next task by bringing through another cow that needed to be milked.

"You sure I'm the only one hung over?" Carl asked, he and Mark swapping cows. "Cal's shoes don't match."

"That's a fashion statement, isn't it?" Rick asked, turning to his youngest who was lingering by his side.

Not interested in defending his fashion choices Calvin just shrugged, creeping closer. He had always been a little tentative around the cows, intimidated by their enormous size and frightened by the one time Pepperoni mooed rather loudly at him. But as usual his eagerness was getting the better of him, and in no time at all he was standing between Rick's knees, taking his turn at milking.

"Is this the mean one?" he whispered, looking up at her.

"No, this is Donut. You want Pepperoni?"

Calvin shook his head, soon tiring of the task. With a heavy sigh he laid himself over Rick's leg, laughing as he pushed himself up and dangled with his feet in the air. After a few stern words he began to behave himself again, for Rick couldn't allow him to get into the habit of laughing and playing outside the walls. This area was for work and vigilance, that mantra had to be drummed into the children from a very young age.

"Dad," Calvin started. "Can I tell you a secret?"

With him still standing between his knees as he leant down to milk he didn't really have a choice in the matter. "Go on."

Calvin leant in close to his ear, doing a terrible job at whispering. "Me and Carl peed on the grass."

"Is that so?" he smiled, unable to help himself. The ability to pee outside was just about the only thing that had enticed Calvin to start using the potty, and still the novelty hadn't worn off. "Who peed the best?"

"I did. Dad, I'm hungry."

"Hi Hungry."

Calvin sighed in annoyance, looking at him from the corner of his eyes, and damn in that moment he resembled his mother. "No, my tummy is hungry."

"You can have breakfast when we go home."

Sliding his arm around his shoulder Calvin tugged at his beard, making him look around. "Can we go home now?"

On the inside Rick sighed in frustration. "Go rake the grass over there."

"But I'm really hungry. I'm _starving_."

"You don't know what starving is," he said sternly, twisting around so Calvin could leave. "Get a rake and make yourself useful."

Looking rather put out about it Calvin reluctantly did as he was told, dragging his feet as he wandered off into the shed to find one of the small rakes. Watching him go Rick made a mental note to discuss this with Carrie, conscious of Calvin's recent bouts of argumentativeness. They'd been pretty lucky with him, blessed with an angelic little boy who pretty much skipped the terrible twos and threes, but lately he was becoming awfully opinionated for someone not even five years old. But just as he knew he would Calvin soon returned from the shed with one of the rakes, dragging it across the grass and really believing that he was helping.

Getting back into the swing of things he finished up with Donut and then helped Judith write on the lid for the bucket, patiently helping with the letters until she completed Donut. While she carried the bucket out to her little cart Rick untethered Donut and Oreo, leading them out and exchanging them for the next one Carl had brought him, Popcorn. They too worked seamlessly together, for even though Carl was out on the road three out of four weeks, when he was home they always worked together, just like they always had.

Glad to have his son home Rick felt particularly cheerful that morning, even in spite of the late night he'd had supervising their party and rounding up the drunks. They were due to move the cattle to a new pasture soon, probably tomorrow, and so he would enlist Carl's help. The cows were pretty cooperative, they knew their routine well, but there was always one or two that put up a fight or got confused, usually Bagel. Glancing up towards the new pasture he forcibly reminded himself of the task he had been procrastinating about for weeks now, the cow that needed to be slaughtered…he didn't have time to do it today. Maybe tomorrow.

A distant bark made Rick look up across the other pastures, glad to see Daryl and Matilda making their way towards them. They walked hand in hand at a leisurely pace, and like he often did Rick had to look at them twice. Even after all these years it was still a little odd seeing Daryl as a father, not that he hadn't taken to the role like a duck to water. His tenderness with Judith as a little one had been the first indication that he was indeed cut out for the job, so it really ought not come as a surprise to any of them who knew him well.

"Mornin'," Daryl said, dumping his satchel that bulged with the bounty of his hunt. He helped Matilda climb through the wire fence and leant against the posts looking in at them, smirking when he saw Carl. "How's yah head?"

"Not so great," Carl admitted, steering his little brother around to start raking a different patch of grass. "Where were you last night? I thought you were coming to the party."

"Ain't coming to no dress up party."

"Why not?" Carl protested, a smirk growing on his face. "You could have been the Scarecrow…you're already wearing the costume."

Daryl shook his head before turning to Rick. "Your kid's an asshole."

"He is this morning," he agreed, letting Matilda join him after she washed her hands. When Daryl was on the road Lana often made a point of bringing her out here to stay familiar with the world outside, to instil a sense of responsibility in her. Like Calvin she didn't quite have the strength to achieve much, but to her credit she did her best to help with the milking, her eyes focused on the task at hand.

"I thought you might come over last night," Rick began lightly. "Had a beer in the fridge for you."

"Nah, I was gettin' busy at home. You remember what that was like, right?"

Rick tolerated the laughter that came at his expense, not minding that even Carl was laughing too. It still felt odd to joke about sex so openly in front of him, but there was now denying his familiarity with the subject. "Funny, you didn't seem real busy when I came by and found you asleep on the couch."

"Ah, she'd had her way with me by then," Daryl brushed him off. "Was exhausted."

"Liar," Rick challenged, squirting some cows milk at Dog again.

"Go on then. How long's it been for you?"

"Not three weeks."

Conceding this, Daryl chuckled under his breath. "Come on," he said, clicking his fingers at Matilda. "Rick's got enough kids, he don' need you too."

She jumped up immediately, never failing to do exactly what Daryl instructed. "Bye," she said cheerfully, waving at Judith and Calvin as she hurried to catch up with Daryl.

Getting back into it he continued the milking, finishing up with Popcorn and moving on to Bagel, his last cow for the morning. In the other stall Mark was working on Pepperoni, almost finished with her. They had both made quick work of it that day, and they were almost done. Once the cows were out to pasture their work was done, and later the next shift would come out to check on all the livestock.

As he worked he kept a keen eye on his children, even Carl. While he and Calvin were occupying themselves Judith was loitering nearby, hands in her pockets as she moved her hips back and forth. She looked like she needed the toilet, but when he noticed her creeping forward he realised what the problem was, that she had something on the tip of her tongue. He mentally braced himself, suspecting what it was she was working herself up to. The topic of the baby had been a recent point of discussion, and though he and Carrie would prefer to give her accurate information rather than untruths, they first wanted to gauge what she already knew. That approach had led to a lot of questions that came out of nowhere.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I know how the baby got in Mom's belly."

At this statement he looked up, while nearby Mark and Carl both stopped what they were doing, listening in interest. This ought to be good.

"Oh yeah? How?"

"You put it in her."

Rick held her gaze and waited for her to elaborate further, but she didn't. "Well, aren't you a smarty pants."

"I know," she said proudly, smiling at his praise.

"How did you figure it out?"

"My friend told me."

"Oh, your secret friend?" he smiled, sealing the lid on Bagel's bucket of milk. It was sweet that she'd made herself an imaginary friend, that both Calvin and Matilda enjoyed playing along with her. "What else did your friend tell you about the baby?"

Judith's brow furrowed, but she seemed done with the conversation. "Nothing," she said simply.

"Hey Judy," Carl asked, sitting up on top of the wooden fence. "Who's your secret friend?"

She got a little shy now, smiling as she turned away. "I just…made him up."

Done for the morning Rick got to his feet, but when he automatically picked up the bucket of milk he flinched in discomfort. A sharp pain seared through his left side, the exact place where the rebar had impaled him. It was a mistake to pick up the bucket with his left hand, for he hadn't yet regained his full strength. His side started to ache again, his mouth twisting as he slowly put the bucket back down on the ground.

"You okay?" Carl asked, appearing at his side.

"I'm okay," he assured him, stepping aside and allowing him to take the bucket instead.

Watching his son step in and take care of his task only made him dread his inevitable departure in five days. He wished Carl didn't have to do it, but admittedly his and Enid's tenacity and dedication was the biggest reason Rick and Maggie were still in contact, let alone civil.

"Dad, can I have a ride on your shoulders?" Calvin asked, holding his hand as they returned to Alexandria.

"Will you give me one in return?"

Calvin's eyes widened as he looked him up and down. "I…I think you're too big to go on me."

Amused by his expression Rick slowed to a stop, acquiescing. Enlisting Carl's help, for he wasn't strong enough to get Calvin onto his back, he crouched down and then let him climb on. The extra weight he carried made his side ache again, but he pushed on through it, determined that it would not hold him back from doing things like this. When they passed through the gates and returned to the safety of Alexandria a change came over the kids, knowing that they were allowed to play and shout now, that they could let their guard down.

"I'm taller than you!" Calvin decreed, grabbing Rick's hair as if it were the reigns on a horse. "Look Judy, I'm taller than you!"

Abandoning the cart of milk she was pulling Judith rushed over to Carl, begging to get up onto his shoulders and looking pleased when he reluctantly agreed. "Now I'm taller than you," she said smugly, not noticing when Carl wobbled and staggered as he tried to drag along the cart of milk.

"Nu - uh!"

"Yeah - uh!"

Feeling some hair departing his scalp Rick slowed to a stop, crouching down to his knees and ditching Calvin. "Head start. Run home to Mom."

"I'm winning!" he cried, waving to his sister as he set off sprinting. "I'm winning you!"

"Wait!" she shrieked, unceremoniously scrambling to get down from Carl's shoulder, pulling his hair and kicking him in the lower back as she went. "Cal, wait for me!"

As the two siblings raced each other home Carl took a moment to catch his breath, regretting his agreement to let Judith up at all. "God, and you're having another one…" he muttered, getting back to his feet and taking the cart of milk again. "You guys are crazy."

Rick smiled, thinking about the secret Carl had divulged a few days ago. "You'll feel differently when it's your kids."

"That's not happening for a long time," he said confidently. "Not for years."

Rick just smiled, clasping him on the shoulder. "Good, there's plenty of time for that one day. Just enjoy being young…but maybe with less rum."

Carl sheepishly had to agree, embarrassed by the reminder. "Grandpa caught you hungover once, right?"

Glad he had remembered this story, Rick nodded. "I was a year younger than you. Do you remember what he did to me?"

"He woke you up early, and made you go to work with him."

"We spent the whole day fixing the fencing at the ranch he used to manage," Rick reminisced, not mentioning that he made Shane work right alongside him too. "Middle of summer in Tennessee…I thought I was going to die out there I was so sick. You're getting off easy."

"How's that?" he protested.

"It's November, and you're about to go home and finish sleeping it off."

At this Carl's expression relaxed, and he looked over at him gratefully. "You're not going to make me keep working? What about Saddiq?"

Rick shook his head, feeling particularly generous today. "You work enough as it is. Besides, no one wants to be treated by a trainee doctor with rum coming out of his pores."

Unable to hold back a smile Carl laughed at his own expense, the two of them having arrived at home now. They could hear Calvin and Judith upstairs chattering away to Carrie. "I'll take the milk in," he offered, gesturing to the middle brownstone that had served as their pantry for the last four years. "Thanks Dad."

"Just remember," he said, clasping him on his shoulder. "One day you'll do this to your children, and you'll enjoy it just as much as I am right now."

"Thanks for the sympathy," he muttered, brushing his hand off.

Lingering a moment Rick watched Carl head down the road to the pantry, suddenly finding last night's antics a lot funnier than he had at the time. Not for the first time he wished Lori could be here to see their son like this, to laugh and cringe along with him as they watched him grow into the young man he was today. Feeling particularly nostalgic he opened the gate to the courtyard of his home, trying not to count the days remaining until Carl's next journey away from Alexandria.

* * *

A/N - I seriously hope you enjoyed the slice of life chapter, and getting to know Calvin and Judith. I kept Carrie pregnant for these chapters as I wanted us to get to know Calvin and Judith without a baby around to distract.

Let me know what you think - Carrie's POV next, and then someone lobs a turd into the punchbowl. Any guesses what it is?

Please leave a review - Happy New Year!


	80. Chapter 80

Though she honestly couldn't claim she was overworked these days, Carrie was grateful that Rick took both of the kids out with him that morning. No matter how quiet they tried to be, Calvin and Judith always disturbed her when they crept into the bed each morning, oblivious to how much they jostled the mattress and how loud their little whispers actually were. But today she had been able to sleep in completely undisturbed, an extra hour that made a huge difference to her these days. Now she was awake, showered and dressed, ready for another day of her sole task…being pregnant.

Before she went down she lingered at the top of the stairs, double checking she had everything she wanted, that there would be no need for her to come back up during the day. Going down wasn't so bad, but going up was an arduous task that she avoided at almost any cost. Though she generally fared quite well during her first pregnancy, the second was not quite so comfortable. The baby was in a good position at least, but each day the pressure on her hips and lower back grew into an uncomfortable ache, often resulting in shooting pains that ran down her legs. If she didn't keep up with Wilson's therapy and her rest she would be limping and exhausted by the end of the day, not to mention exceedingly crabby.

"Eight more weeks," she reminded herself, trying to be cheerful about it.

She took her time going downstairs, one hand on the railing and the other encircling her belly. Strapped around her hips and her front was a soft brace, one she'd been wearing every day for the last few months. That in combination with her size made her about just as unsexy as she'd ever felt, though her self conscious complaints seemed to be of little concern to Rick who seemed eager to take advantage of no longer needing to worry about contraception. At the bottom of the stairs she stopped for a few moments, still holding her belly as she looked at herself in the mirror. She was tired, sore, and constantly needed to pee, but when it was over she knew she would miss having her baby inside her, the constant company she enjoyed.

Trying not to start her day with a crabby disposition she headed into the kitchen to start the morning routine, feeling a little better when she felt the baby moving. She let her mind wander to her unborn daughter Ally, thinking about her as she set a pot of oatmeal onto the stove and began cooking. She adored the name they had chosen, confident that Ally Georgia Grimes just felt right. The combination seemed to work. Carl, Judith, Calvin and Ally…yet when she recited those names she still couldn't quite comprehend that she and Rick were going to be parents of four. She had stopped mentioning that magic number, for though he had definitely wanted another baby he always seemed to pale when she mentioned it. Hell, he'd pale even more when she found the right time to ask him to go to the Kingdom for a vasectomy.

As she mentally rehearsed how she would phrase that particular request her mind went back to the last time he was at the Hilltop not to see Maggie or discuss trade, but for his injury. It had frightened the living daylights out of them all, reminding them not to be complacent, that the world was still cruel. It was a miracle he survived, and perhaps it was a small blessing that they hadn't been able to tell her what happened until the worst of it was over. By the time she and Saddiq managed to make it all the way to Hilltop he was in the clear, saved not only by Harlan, but by Enid and Carl who had trained under him every time they stopped on a trade route.

They'd started trying for a baby before Rick's accident happened, but following that it had been put on hold for quite a few months while he recovered and regained his strength. To both their surprise the pregnancy hadn't happened as quickly as it had with Calvin, who had been conceived by happy accident. She had hoped there would be a smaller age gap between Calvin and Ally, but like things often did she was confident that it had worked out for the better. It would have been difficult helping Rick recover if she had a newborn to care for too, and now Judith and Calvin were grown enough to mostly take care of themselves. She was exhausted enough as it was, and it would have been so much worse if she was chasing around little kids as well as caring for Rick and a baby.

Finishing with the oatmeal she served herself a bowl and then put the lid on the pot, leaving it for Rick to serve himself and the kids when they returned. She added a diced strawberry and then poured herself a cup of tea, still dejectedly remembering the days when they had coffee supplies, for attempts to grow their own coffee trees wouldn't be fruitful for another two years. It was nice out, and so she rolled her gym ball onto the outside patio and took a seat on it, sighing when she felt the relief in her hips and legs. The short stint in the kitchen had worn her out already.

She was halfway through eating when she heard a knock at the front door, but she wasn't getting up for anyone. "Come in!" she yelled out, knowing they'd hear her.

Peering through the french doors she started to smile when Saddiq entered, delivering Enid and Henry who were both in varying states of suffering. Enid and Carl occupied the third floor of the brownstone, enjoying their own private oasis up there with a built in bar and two private balconies. So long as they kept it clean and tidy Rick and Carrie gave them their privacy, for given that they were on the road three weeks out of the month they were just glad they were back at all. At first there had been misgivings about facilitating the two teenagers to sleep together, neither of them were completely comfortable with the situation at first. But as Carrie reasoned, it wasn't like there was anything they could do to stop them having sex if that's what they wanted to do.

Henry on the other hand was a routine guest, occupying the unused room in their basement every time he came to Alexandria for work. He was three days into a month long visit, Carol having delivered him here and entrusted his safe keeping to Carrie and Rick. Henry was here to help them with some welding and steel work they needed done before the winter set in, to fix some farm equipment and generally lend his expertise. Just as they knew he would be given he'd been raised by Carol the last four years, Henry was a perfect house guest even at only sixteen years old…at least until he joined that party last night.

"G'morning Carrie," Saddiq said brightly, joining her on the porch. "How are you today?"

"Better than these two."

Saddiq laughed, clasping both teens on the shoulder. "They got off easy. Carl's already out working."

Carrie too laughed, for she should have known Rick would make his son get up and go to work despite a raging hangover. "Go on," she said kindly, gesturing to the kitchen. "Food, and then shower. Thanks Saddiq."

"Take it easy."

"You don't need to remind me."

Enid and Henry trudged into the kitchen to serve themselves, and when they joined her out on the patio they looked pretty downtrodden. Despite their excess enthusiasm last night no one begrudged the Halloween party they had organised and hosted. The young people of these communities worked hard and without complaint, particularly Carl and Enid who were constantly on the go, sacrificing a comfortable lifestyle in order to be nomads, serving all the communities and facilitating their trades. So what if they threw a party every year…and so what if they were finally allowed to have some alcohol.

Henry seemed a little down on himself, and Carrie got the feeling it was about more than his sore head. "You feeling okay?"

He nodded, clearing his throat as he took another tentative mouthful of his breakfast. Opposite him Enid was stifling a burp, but she visibly winced and pulled a face, and Carrie couldn't help but laugh at her expense on the inside.

"You know, Henry, we don't have to tell your mom about last night. Not the details anyway."

When he looked up at her with wide eyes she knew she had figured it out, that he was indeed worried that word of his antics would get back to Carol. "You really won't tell her?"

Carrie shook her head. "Besides, I don't want her knowing that we're the ones who gave you the alcohol. Easier to just not tell her at all."

Enid gave a short laugh, staring into her bowl. "I'm starting to think it wasn't a good idea for any of us to have it."

"You have work today?"

She shook her head. "Saddiq gave me and Carl the day off."

"That's kind of him."

"Not really. Tomorrow he's making me lance that boil on Angus' foot…he knows feet creep me out."

"At least it's not the boil on Daryl's ass. He won't let anyone lance that except me."

When they were done eating they both traipsed off to their respective bathrooms to shower, Henry heading downstairs to the basement while Enid struggled up two flights of stairs to the top floor. Not moving an inch Carrie continued drinking her tea as she flipped through an old magazine, reacquainting herself with the celebrity gossip of two thousand and ten, a simpler time. She enjoyed peace for a little while longer before her family came home, their first arrival being Judith who burst through the courtyard gate, panting for breath and proudly declaring herself the winner. A few moments behind her Calvin arrived, looking sorely glum that he had lost their race home, but he brightened when he saw Carrie was awake.

"Mom," he said urgently, racing upstairs to join her. "Mom, Carl and me saw a Walker, but it was dead already."

"Wow," she said, trying to sound impressed for his sake. "Did you help with the chores?"

"Yes."

"No he didn't," Judith argued, looking into the empty bowls left on the table. "He just raked the grass. That's not a real chore."

"Is so!"

"Uh uh uh," Carrie quickly intervened, cutting them both off before they could continue. The siblings got along famously well, but when they argued they really went at it. "Where's dad?"

"He's coming," Judith answered, coming over to Carrie's side. "Can you take my gun off? It's too heavy."

"Wait until Dad gets here," she answered, firm in her decision that she wasn't getting up from this yoga ball unless she absolutely had to. "Go and get your bowls and spoons. Dad can get you some oatmeal."

"Can we have eggs instead?" Calvin requested.

"No."

"What about pancakes?"

Carrie narrowed her eyes at him, making her answer perfectly clear.

"He's been annoying _all morning_ _,_ " Judith huffed.

"Have not!"

"Have too - have too - have too!"

"Rick," Carrie sighed, relieved to see him walking through the side gate. "Thank God you're here."

"What's their problem?" he asked, eyeing off the kids as he climbed the stairs.

"They're hungry," she answered, knowing them both well.

Perhaps he was a little hungry too, for he seemed impatient when he spoke to them. "Stop bothering your mother. Go inside, wash up."

Instead of following them in he came over to her at the table, his hand on her back as he leant down and kissed her. Enjoying the kiss she moved for another, a better one he deserved after taking the kids out for the morning. She reached up and stroked the side of his face, slipping her tongue past his lips and teasing him a little. She both heard and felt his sharp intake of breath, knowing she had him entirely in her hands. Perhaps if her day went well they might find some time to be alone together, though it would be difficult given all the extra people in their house right now. He lingered there with her a few minutes, kissing her again without haste.

"Please," Carl groaned, climbing the stairs up to the house. "I'm nauseas enough already."

"Good morning, Carl," she said brightly, taking a good look at him. "How was sleeping on the concrete floor?"

He ignored this, heading upstairs to fight Enid for the shower and allowing them to get back to what they were doing before. Carrie looked back at Rick, taking another kiss that was no less passionate.

"How are the cows?" she asked, and she doesn't need to clarify what she's getting at.

"Good," he said dismissively, quickly turning away and trying to head inside.

"Rick," she said pointedly, making him stop. "Come on…when are you going to do it?"

"I have to put it to the council first."

"The council already agreed, no freeloaders. Peanut's time here is up."

"Yeah, I know."

"Think of all the meat," she implored, secretly loving how reluctant he was to slaughter one of their dairy cows. "We'll cook a nice juicy Porterhouse for your next birthday…a Peanut Porterhouse."

At this he rolled his eyes, crouching down to help Judith with her gun holster. "Judith, you don't want Peanut to go away, do you?"

Judith hesitated, her eyes darting towards Carrie. "Mom said we can have meatballs when Peanut dies…I really like meatballs."

Rick muttered something under his breath, ushering Judith to go inside. "I'll get around to it," he said, trying to brush it off.

"If you don't do it, someone else will."

Avoiding any further conversation he quickly set about feeding the kids, reheating the oatmeal on the stove top and then serving it up to them. Watching him from the patio she noted that he made up one bowl too many, which annoyed her to no end. She had made exactly enough to feed their family, not _him_ too. There were two pieces of stale bread left suitable to toasting, that and a little peanut butter was more than _he_ deserved.

Perhaps it was her curse for letting him live, but Negan's mere existence was a constant thorn in her side. Never did she dream that him being their prisoner would mean she had to leave their former home at the end of the street, that Calvin would literally never sleep in the nursery they prepared for him. But four years ago when she came home from the Kingdom after the war ended she was brought to Deanna's old home, finding that Rick has moved them in without even asking her.

Upon reflection Rick had made a fair case for the move, that they couldn't expect their people to live alongside Negan if they weren't willing to do it too…literally. Their home shared a wall with his prison cell in the house next door, and when she stood at the foot of the basement stairs they were literally just bricks apart. She used to have nightmares about him tunnelling through the wall, breaking out in the middle of the night and coming for her family. In her dreams it was never her that he hurt, it was always Rick. He would take him away just to punish her for what she did to him, her special brand of kindness that he felt kept him apart from his late wife Lucille.

Not a day went by that Carrie didn't think about him, seething in resentment even when she had better things to think about. The passing of another Christmas, another successful expansion of the walls, another baby born in Alexandria…all these celebrations were marred by Negan's ongoing presence in the back of her mind. She hadn't been to see him, not even once for the only satisfaction she got was that he still asked for her, still hoped to see her.

No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, she couldn't let go of the resentment that still lingered. Negan felt like a constant cloud overhead, a constant spectre.

"I've got something to tell you," Rick said quietly.

By now they had all finished eating their breakfast, the kids satiated and their teeth brushed, while Rick and Carrie lingered to enjoy the nice morning sun. He was kicked back with his feet up on the table, nursing a hot tea not because he liked it, but because it was better than nothing. Gauging him she could see the little smug smile on his face, the eagerness to tell her something that he maybe shouldn't be.

"Tell me."

"Can't," he said shortly, gesturing to the kids.

She knew exactly how to take care of that. "Judy, Cal, why don't you go to the playground before school?"

The kids hesitated, already perfectly content riding their bikes around the small courtyard. They rolled to a stop and then huddled together, Judith whispering something to Calvin whose eyes brightened. He nodded and started grinning, and still whispering they hastened to put their bikes away underneath the patio.

"We're going to the playground," Calvin announced as if it was his idea all along. "Just the playground."

They waited until the kids left hand in hand, watching as they closed the courtyard gate, and then they were all clear. "Okay, spill it."

Rick smiled at her a little more, dragging the news out. "Carl's going to ask Enid to marry him."

In an instant Carrie's eyes widened, and were she capable she would have leapt to her feet in joy. "I knew it!" she whispered triumphantly.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Enid has her suspicions," she answered, leaning towards him so she could lower her voice even more. "Maggie's not wearing her engagement ring anymore, says she lost it in the gardens, but Enid is calling bullshit on that."

"What's that got to do with Carl?"

"Our explanation? Carl asked Maggie for her blessing, so she gave him her engagement ring because she knows he doesn't have Lori's." There was a long pause now, Rick sitting there stony faced, and that was when she knew she was right. "That's what happened, isn't it?"

He sighed, losing the smug look. "Yes," he conceded. "He gave me Maggie's ring a few days ago…asked me to hang on to it for a while"

"I knew it," Carrie declared, still keeping her voice down. "I know everything that happens everywhere!"

"You seem awfully happy for them."

This comment made her take pause. "You're not?"

"I am," he assured her, shrugging his shoulders a little. "They're just a little young."

"They're not considered young these days. Besides, they've been together four years now."

"They also had a pretty bad break up."

On the inside Carrie sighed, for Carl and Enid's breakup was something they had discussed at great length before, worried for them. "It did them good to date other people for a while, to figure it out. And they did, they decided they wanted to be together. You're not happy?"

"I am," he assured her again. He took his feet down from the table now, tapping his fingers against the wood. "I just miss them, that's all. It feels like we're missing out on their lives."

 _Well, on that note_. "I've got news too," she said lightly. "Juicy news."

This got his attention. "Like what?"

"Sorry, can't tell you. But it's good…you're going to be happy."

"Carrie, come on," he implored, standing up and collecting everyone's plates. "Tell me."

"Nope. You were being so smug before you don't deserve to know."

"Fine," he said lightly, kissing her on the cheek as he walked by. "Be like that."

In disappointment she watched him head into the kitchen and dump the plates into the sink. He'd return soon to help her tidy the kitchen, doing his bit to lighten the load on her even though he had plenty of work to do already, but first he had another task to attend to. Her mood soured as she watched him pour a small glass of orange juice and add some water to stretch it, but at least he didn't go the extra step of adding fresh berries to the bowl of cold oatmeal. That would definitely be a kindness too much.

"I really wish you'd let someone else do that for a while," she called out, catching him before he departed.

Deviating for a moment he came back to the patio doors, looking out. "And what? Miss out on all the stimulating conversation?"

She didn't respond to this, because how did she explain her resentment that still lingered after four years, the deep-seated regret she held for letting Negan live. She had made her bed, and now Rick was the one who had to lie in it. This was what she set them up for, she had no one to blame but herself.

"By the way, Judith knows I put the baby in you, but she hasn't asked how."

Recognising his effort to lighten her mood, she returned the gesture. "Well, yesterday I had to clarify that I don't poop the baby out."

He cringed. "Glad it was you, not me. Has Calvin asked anything yet?"

"No," she said in relief, feeling he was too young for this information. "I think he's still under the impression that the baby stays inside me forever."

Rick raised his eyebrows, laughing a little as he began to depart. "Boy is he in for a shock."

* * *

After four years the routine was as natural as brushing one's teeth.

When he entered the basement of the brownstone next door he received the usual greeting from Negan, and to keep the peace he returned the greeting in kind. Negan needed no instruction, simply getting up from his neatly made bed and making his way over to the low stool in the corner. Reaching up he allowed Rick to handcuff his left hand to the bars, already trying to see what it was he was receiving for breakfast.

"Oatmeal, huh?" he began, sounding impressed. "And orange juice. Aren't you in a good mood today?"

Ignoring this, Rick set down the plastic bowl and cup and exchanged them for the bucket. In the nearby bathroom he emptied it into the toilet and then rinsed it, following that up with a quick spritz of antibacterial spray. By now this process was completely routine, he didn't think about it, he wasn't revolted…though that one time Negan had food poisoning was a bad day to be on bucket duty.

He washed his hands and then returned the bucket to the cell, taking a look around like he always did. It wasn't that he needed to do a full inspection or sweep for contraband, he just needed to make sure Negan was keeping it clean and orderly. He once tried hoarding food in the hopes of attracting mice, purely just to piss Rick off, and another time he had been digging at the cement between the cinderblocks with the same goal in mind.

"What's it like out there?" Negan enquired as he ate. "Nice?"

"A little cool." He looked through the stack of books he kept on a small book shelf, one they made out of plywood and glue, not giving him the chance to use a nail or screw for any self harm. "You done with these?"

"Not quite. You can take the Twilight book…I'm bored, not fucking suicidal."

Leaving the book there, Rick stepped out of the cell and closed the door, checking and double checking that it was securely locked. "Quit throwin' that ball at night. We've got someone staying downstairs, they can hear it."

"Is it you, Rick? You sleeping down there like a dog that got its nose whacked with a newspaper?"

"Feel free to think that if it makes you happy," he said, taking a seat on the chair outside the cell. He would stay until Negan had finished eating, but he wouldn't stick around to talk like he usually did, not when Carrie had some secret to spill.

After things settled and they got into a routine with their new prisoner, Rick found he didn't mind stopping to talk to Negan a little, feeding him tidbits of information about the outside world. He wanted to make sure he knew what he was missing out on, what they were building without him, but he was very careful about what he said regarding his family, Carrie in particular. Negan still frequently asked about her, even four years later, and not once had Rick's answer changed.

 _She's well, and she's not coming to see you._

 _Why? Won't you let her?_

 _She's not interested._

Negan knew nothing of their children, though he had surely caught glimpses of them out on the sidewalk. But a glimpse was nothing, and he certainly didn't know about Ally. Despite asking on occasion the kids had never been brought by to see him, and though they were old enough to roam Alexandria freely they knew better than to talk to Negan. Rick wasn't normally a parent who used fear and threats to control his children's behaviour, but when it came to Negan they knew it was strictly forbidden, that the consequences would be severe.

"I knew in an instant that Carl was home. This is the second day in a row you've brought me something nice for breakfast."

Rick quirked his eyebrows. "Not difficult for you to keep track of the days."

"I don't need to," Negan smirked, tapping the side of his head. "I know when your boy comes home, I can see it in you…besides, there was no missing him on the loud speaker last night."

These comments did irk him somewhat, but he let it go. Besides, what else did Negan have to do all day but be a busy body? "They had a good time."

"I heard what a good time they had. Heard you bringing them right down the end of that hall," he smirked again, trying to goad him. "Lockin' your boy up in the fucking drunk tank, sleeping it off on a cold, concrete floor just like mine. You must be so proud."

"I don't need you to tell me what I'm proud of."

Negan held his smirk a little longer, but conceding defeat he simply shrugged his shoulders and turned back to his breakfast. "Ahhhh, it's like trying to shit on Mother Theresa…he's a good boy. Can't deny that."

"He's a man now," Rick murmured, thinking about the impending proposal. Carl had asked him about getting married a few months ago, how he knew Lori was the one, how he knew about Carrie too. Then the other day he gave him Maggie's handed down ring to keep safe for him…Christ, his heart just about blew out of his chest when Carl told him his intentions.

"A man," Negan mused. "When did that happen?"

"Not sure."

"He's as tall as you these days, but that shit on his face? He ain't got nothing on your beautiful mane of man bush." There was a pause now, Negan continuing when Rick didn't comment. "Why hasn't he been to see me? He hasn't come by in a while."

"Enid asked him to stop."

"So he did?" Negan questioned in annoyance. "Some man…"

"He knows what side his bread is buttered on."

Negan smiled genuinely, laughing under his breath. "Power of the pussy, right?"

"Right."

Another long pause came to pass, Rick sitting there patiently. Negan was sure taking his sweet ass time eating today, no doubt suspecting that Rick wanted to get going. He really ought to just do what Michonne and Gabriel did, that being deliver the food and come back for the empty plate in an hour, but he preferred the thrice daily task to just be over with in as few trips as possible. Ten minutes passed, and when Negan scraped the bowl and finally took the last mouthful Rick clasped his hands on his knees.

"We done here?"

"Guess so," he agreed, passing the empty bowl, spoon and cup through the bars. "You tell Daryl that I miss him, I know he's back again. I know everything."

"Sure."

"Make him come empty my bucket of shit in the morning, he's more fun than you. Easier to rattle."

"I think he has other plans."

Negan smirked again, going back to his antagonising ways. "Power of the pussy, right? I can attest to hers."

Ignoring this insult to Lana he removed the handcuff from around Negan's wrist, freeing him to go about his day in that cell. Before he departed he checked the lock on the cell doors again, a habit he would never forgo, and then he double checked the lock on the door, another habit. Some might call it paranoid, but more than once he had awoken in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, questioning whether or not he had locked Negan in there, fearful that he might have been out roaming Alexandria.

Outside he could see Daryl over at the playground near the church, sitting on the grass and watching the kids. They were beyond the age of needing supervision around here, there were plenty of people around anyway, but no doubt Daryl got roped into coming there to watch Matilda and the kids perform the same tricks over and over again. His patience seemed to be endless, for though Rick would normally put in fifteen minutes or so of watching the same thing on repeat, Daryl seemed not to mind so much. Matilda was hanging upside down from her knees on the monkey bars, copying Calvin who had been teaching her how to do it. He watched from a distance as they both let go and fell into the sand below, laughing as they staggered to their feet and struggled to walk in a straight line.

Back home he made his way into the kitchen and started habitually cleaning up from breakfast, trying to lighten the workload for Carrie. He was halfway through stacking the dishwasher, while outside on the patio Carl and Enid were sitting at the table with her, and he could feel them summoning him even though they hadn't said a word.

As he wiped down the kitchen counters he looked back out there, unable to miss the way they were looking at him, Carrie expectantly, Carl and Enid nervously. Finishing up he headed out to join them, and he could tell Carrie was a little annoyed for she disliked when any visit to Negan was longer than absolutely necessary. Taking a seat beside her he looked across the table at Carl and Enid who also sat side by side, the young couple exchanging what seemed like a nervous glance.

"Uhh, Dad," Carl began, pausing to clear his throat. "We want to talk to you about something."

Carl had a familiar look about him, the look of the bad news, and it wouldn't be the first time he had to give bad news. Friction of resentment towards Alexandria, a trade that went sour, some ex-Saviours stirring up trouble. Being the most frequent visitor to all communities Carl was usually the one to relay all of this information.

"What's going on?"

Beneath the table he felt Carrie's hand on his knee, and in an instant he suspected she knew already, that this was what she was going to tell him about before. But her touch was only a small comfort, because the longer it took Carl to speak the longer his mind had to go places. What was happening? A revolt? Or were they breaking up again? _Are they…God, no…not pregnant_.

It was Enid who spoke first. "Carl and I have had enough of being on the road," she began lightly. "We're always travelling, we're never in one place more than a week. And, it just feels like…" she trailed off, turning to Carl.

"Feels like we're missing out," he added, sitting up a little straighter now. "Especially with the new baby coming."

They exchanged another glance, a more comfortable one now. "We're going to ask the council if we can build a house here," Carl continued. "After that we're doing the last trade route before the winter, and then Alden is taking over for us in the spring."

"It means we'll be having Thanksgiving at Hilltop with Maggie, but we'll be here for Christmas and when Ally comes."

"We might do one more trip in March," Carl hastily clarified. "Just to make sure Alden knows what he's doing, that everyone's happy with the change. Maybe another trip later in the year just to check on things, an-"

Rick interrupted them, sitting forward in his chair. "You want to build a house in Alexandria, and stay here for good?"

They nodded. "I mean, if the council approves," Enid said, sounding a little worried. "We'd have to ask for the land and the supplies."

"And we'd keep making trips to the Hilltop to see Maggie and Herschel, but it would be about seeing them, not about trade or work."

"But you're…you're staying."

Looking at each other they shared a small smile, nodding their heads. "If that's okay, yeah. We want to stay."

Rick just blinked at them, unable to comprehend the first statement, _if that's okay_. "Of course it's okay," he said emphatically. "This is your home, you don't have to ask for anyone's blessing to stay here. And you can have whatever land you want, whatever supplies you need."

"You can build the Taj Mahal for all we care," Carrie added. "No one will refuse you anything."

Carl and Enid seemed a little surprised, but their expressions quickly turned to relief and excitement. "Well, it's not exactly the Taj," Enid began, rising from her chair. "But I can show you the plans we've drawn."

While she raced upstairs Carl cleared his throat again, sounding like he was still trying to persuade them. "We think it's a good time to step back from things," he began confidently. "Things have been really smooth for a long time, everyone's getting along, and everyone knows Alden. Eve-"

"Carl, would you mind getting me a refill, please," Carrie interrupted, passing him her empty glass. "Actually, a pitcher of lemonade might be nice. There's some in the pantry."

"Y-yeah, sure," he quickly agreed, likely suspecting that she was trying to get a moment alone with Rick.

As he went inside Rick let out a long sigh, collecting his thoughts. Beside him Carrie was standing up, moving her gym ball closer to his chair so they could talk. "I told you it was good news."

He smiled at her, gripping her hand when she slipped it into his. But he quickly looked away as he relaxed back into the chair again, a surge of emotion taking him by surprise. Suddenly it seemed to click in his mind that Carl was coming home for good, that his nomadic life on the road was ending. He might do a few runs every now and then, some visits to see Maggie, but he was settling in Alexandria. Carl's age of nineteen was merely a number, one that bore little connection to the young man he actually was. He was putting down roots and building a house, getting ready to ask Enid to marry him…he really was starting his life, the kind of life that Rick had spent years fighting to provide him.

That day he injured himself was with a horse on loan from the Hilltop, and when he passed out it just automatically took him there, following the path to home. Carl and Enid were there on their monthly trade visit, and it was Carl who met it out in the fields, who came running down to him. He remembered brief flashes of Carl pulling him off the horse and laying him on the ground, applying first aid. He gave blood to him, returning the favour to save his life, though it wasn't until now, months later that Rick realised that was the day he first really saw Carl as a grown man, that he had grown up without him noticing. It was then that letting him go each month truly became unbearable, and not just because he was being faced with his mortality once again. He could see Carl's whole life ahead of him, ready for him to reach out and take what he wanted, and it just because Rick was seeing barely a quarter of it. He was missing out on his life, but now that was going to change.

"They're coming home," he murmured, blinking wetness out of his eyes. He turned to face Carrie, conscious that she was awaiting his reaction. "How the hell did you know?"

Carrie just smiled at him. "Told you…I know everything about everything."

* * *

The late afternoon sky had just turned dark, and upstairs the kids had finished their bath, poor Carl tasked with the arduous process of getting his siblings clean, dressed and ready for bed. Standing at the bottom of the stairs Carrie put her hands on her lower back, pushing her belly out to relieve an ache, and then she called out to the upstairs.

"Matilda," she called, looking up to the first floor. "Matilda, mummy's here!"

The loud shrieks of laughter did not abate for even a moment, Carl's exasperated voice barely audible over the sound of running footsteps that came next. Matilda appeared at the top of the staircase, but just as quickly she disappeared again, ignoring their calls for her to come down.

"Matilda Dixon," Lana said, joining Carrie at the foot of the stairs. "Get your arse down here now."

"In a minute!"

"No. Now."

The shrieks of laughter resumed, the two mothers wearily knowing they would have to wait a few minutes. "Thanks for watching her," Lana said sincerely. "I appreciate it."

"I didn't lift a finger, it was all Carl and Enid," Carrie answered. "We like to torture them with bath and bedtime. He's soaking wet, and Enid _went on watch_ twenty minutes ago."

"You're mean. I like it. Was she well behaved?"

"Tilly's perfect, she always is."

Lana huffed, rolling her eyes. "Why is it they're always perfect for other people, never their parents?"

"It's a curse."

"Tell me about it," she sighed, looking back upstairs again. "Matilda, don't make me come up there."

With a loud giggle Matilda appeared at the top of the stairs, Judith and Calvin backing her up. "Come up here, I dare you."

Lana raised her eyebrows, but the moment she placed one foot on the bottom step Matilda freaked, realising she had called her bluff. "Wait, I changed my mind! I don't dare you."

"I bet you don't," she muttered darkly, reaching out her hand as Matilda came down. She was bathed and in her pyjamas, wearing the backpack Lana had sent over with after their session at school.

"Mum, have you been working?" she asked as Lana helped her into her slippers.

"Yeah, I've been working really hard," she answered, glancing up at Carrie. " _On my back_ ," she mouthed with a cheeky grin.

"Wow, good for you," Carrie smiled. "And, how many times did you _work_?"

"Twice. Almost three times."

"Put out while he's still around."

Matilda frowned, looking up at them. "Put out what?"

"The trash," Lana answered, tying her dressing gown at the waist. "You got any plans tonight?"

"Oh, just the usual," Carrie sighed, gesturing to her belly and then her feet which Rick had promised to massage. "Bit of a mood killer with such a full house."

"Let him slip one in," Lana joked. "You'll both sleep better. Thanks Carl!" she called out.

They heard his response from upstairs, his voice sounding defeated and worn down, for he still had two overly excited kids to wrangle into bed.

"Bring her by any time you need to _put out the trash_ ," Carrie offered, knowing that by now Lana had told Daryl she was ready for another baby.

It had been on her mind a few months now, and the moment she brought it up with Carrie she had stopped complaining about how much more uncomfortable her second pregnancy was, instead trying to focus her on what would happen after the nine months of pregnancy. She had come around to the idea in her own time, and had planned on telling Daryl when he came home from his most recent trip…judging by her request for babysitting that afternoon she had told him the news he had been waiting for.

A little while later Judith and Calvin came bounding down the stairs, still laughing and playing among themselves as they came to say goodnight. Joining her on the couch they settled a little, snuggling up to her for a few minutes as she held them close, relishing in how good they smelled after their bath. They sat either side of her, both of them reaching out with their hands on her belly to feel the baby, their nightly ritual together.

"Can I read my book tonight?" Judith asked, having kissed her belly good night.

"Until seven thirty, and then lights out," Carrie agreed. Remembering what Rick told her about that morning she nudged Judith, making her look her in the eye. "And if you read past your bedtime, I'm taking away your lamp and your flashlight. Understand?"

Judith blinked innocently. "Can I read without them?"

"You can try. Now go say goodnight to Daddy, he's outside."

At her instructions they both scampered off through the patio doors, saying goodnight to Rick who was tending to their small greenhouse of seedlings. When they came back in Judith immediately went up, eager to get a start on reading her book while she could, but Calvin lingered downstairs a little longer. He came back over to the couch and climbed up to sit with her.

"What's up?"

"Nothing," he said nonchalantly, snuggling up to her side again. "I just want to be with you some more."

Her heart soared at this, loving off hand remarks like that. Putting her arm around him she pulled him closer, allowing him to straddle her leg and lay over her belly, his head resting on her chest as she stroked his hair. For a few minutes he just lay there comfortably, but he perked up a little when he felt his sister moving inside her, giggling at the sensation.

"Make her do it again."

As if she had heard his request Ally moved some more, Carrie almost able to visualise the way she moved about inside her, imagining a hand or foot that moved across the top of her belly. Ushering Calvin to move aside she lifted up her shirt and let him watch, loving the way he became wide eyed with awe.

Was he starting to figure out that things were going to change? While he hadn't been nearly as inquisitive about this as Judith had been, surely he anticipated that something was coming. In one respect their live had already changed, for Rick had stopped making trips to other communities and Carrie was far less active with them than she used to be. But did he have any inkling that things would change again? Judith had coped well when he was born, but would he cope when Ally came along?

"Cal, you're my little baby," she crooned, squishing him close and pressing a kiss to his sweet round cheeks.

"I'm not a baby."

"You're my baby."

"No, I'm not."

She sighed, stroking his thick brown locks. She had seen a picture of Carl a few years older than him, and the resemblance between the two brothers was uncanny. "Can you stop growing up and just be little forever?"

"No. I have to grow up big like Judy."

"In that case, you should go to bed and get your rest."

"Can I stay up with you a bit longer?"

She shook her head. "Only if you promise to stay my little baby forever."

At this Calvin gave a heavy sigh, slowly sitting up and shuffling down from the couch. "I have to go to bed."

"I love you."

"Love you," he said distractedly, reaching for the railing as he ascended the stairs.

Carrie watched him go up and then settled back into the couch, listening to the soft footsteps upstairs as Carl put both kids to bed. Turning her attention back to her former task she resumed looking through Carl and Enid's notebook of sketches, studying their plans for the house, admiring how much thought they had put into it. They had thought of everything, from planning the house to be built in stages as supplies permitted, to the placement of windows to minimise the need for air conditioning and fans. It hadn't escaped her notice that ultimately they planned on a four bedroom house, that they must be intending to fill it with children one day.

She knew that Rick would be known as Pop when the time came, but what would she like to be known as? Grandma didn't feel right, but nor did Nana or Granny…

"Is it safe in there?"

Carrie looked around, finding Rick standing at the patio doors waiting for the all clear. "They're upstairs."

Glad to hear it he came inside and closed the doors. "I'll come rub your feet soon, just one more thing to do."

She made no comment at this, knowing exactly what he had to do. She had made an extra plate at dinner, serving Negan a small portion of meat, potatoes and carrots. She listened to him bustling around in the kitchen, and judging by the sounds he was also fetching a piece of bread too. The microwave door opened and closed, the buttons beeping as he set it to warm the food. He was far more generous than her who would have served a cold meal every single day, but perhaps Rick harboured less resentment than she did.

"Hey," she began, stopping him when he started to leave with the plate of food. "Come here."

He set the plate down onto the hall stand and came back in, leaning down to kiss her when she ushered him down.

"Last night I had a really good dream. It was…vivid."

"About what?"

"About something we haven't done in almost two weeks."

This got his attention, compelling him to sit down beside her, one hand reaching out for her knee. "Two weeks…have you been counting?"

"Haven't you?"

They kissed lazily, and she could tell by the way he moved closer that he had indeed been counting. Enjoying the closeness she put her hand on his thigh, wishing that he didn't have to go, that they didn't have a house full of people. If they were alone he could simply take her right there on the couch, both of them comfortable, slowly working each other to climax.

"I know I practically need a crane just to get up right now, but if you're willing to put in all the work tonight, I'm willing to let you have me."

Rick chuckled at this, his fingertips stroking the side of her neck as he kissed her again. His hips jerked towards her, but as if he suddenly remembered what he had to do he pulled away, taking her hand off his leg. "I'll hire the crane," he said jokingly, kissing her again as he got up. "I'll run you a bath if you want."

Carrie moaned, putting her head back on the couch. "A bath with you sounds heavenly."

Sparing her another kiss he made his way upstairs, and she heard the water start following as he began filling the tub. Confident with how long it took to fill up he made his way back downstairs and collected Negan's plate, and from the look he gave her she got the feeling he would be making this visit a quick one, that he wouldn't stick around to wait for him to eat.

Eager to turn in for the night Carrie pulled herself up from the couch and made her way around the house, making sure all the lights were turned off, checking that Henry's dinner had been put in the refrigerator for when he returned from his shift on watch. Pouring herself a glass of water she made sure to collect everything she needed, and then slowly she made her way back upstairs for the first time all day. At the top she paused to catch her breath, relieved that her hips weren't giving her any trouble right now.

Stopping by Judith's bedroom she peeked inside, wishing her goodnight again and reminding her to turn the lights off at seven thirty. At the other end of the hall was Calvin's bedroom, and she stopped by there for a peek, her heart warming to see him laying in bed with Carl stretched out beside him, the two brothers reading a book together. Calvin didn't notice her, and so she didn't disturb them. She would thank Carl for taking care of the kids tomorrow.

In her bedroom she checked on the water in the tub and then lit a few candles. Adding some bath salts she reminded herself to stir the water when she got in, that Rick would complain about them if they didn't dissolve. When she undressed she put on a light robe, wishing she had something sexier to greet him in, not that he would likely take much notice. Getting ahead of the nightly routine she added some oil to the fine stretch marks on her belly, glad she didn't have to face the magazine covers of airbrushed celebrities. She had recovered well after Calvin had been born, but she suspected it would be a little harder after Ally. Even now she was still envious of Lana whose body seemed to literally snap back just a few months after Matilda's birth.

When she heard the bedroom door open she sauntered out to greet her husband. "You took your time," she complained, getting ready to drop the robe. "What do you say I…oh, Carl," she said in embarrassment, hastily clenching her robe together before he saw more than he bargained for. "What's wrong?"

Carl stood awkwardly in the bedroom door, his gaze averted until he saw that she was dressed. "It's Calvin," he said shortly, looking worried. "He just told me his best friend is the man who lives downstairs."

At this Carrie smiled. "Yeah, I'm starting to think he likes Henry more than you."

"No," Carl shook his head, coming in and closing the door. He held her gaze, his expression conveying the seriousness of this. "Negan. I think he means Negan."

* * *

A/N Hope you enjoyed the scene with Negan - he may have been imprisoned for four years, but he hasn't changed very much! Also hope you like the little bump in the road with him and Calvin/Judy, and the update on Carl and Enid.

Am thinking about writing some one shots for this story - they would be canon, from any time period of the three stories. I want to keep writing as I can, but I won't be able to commit to a spin off and writing chapters each week.

If you've got some one shots you want to see please leave it in a review. Be as succinct or detailed as you want, if if the writing bug strikes me for it I'll write it one day.

Cheers!


	81. Chapter 81

After Carl dropped the bombshell Carrie had been terrified, her stomach churning at even the thought that Negan had been talking to her children, that they had gone back on their promise to never go down there to talk to the bad man they had been warned about. She was pacing the living room when Rick returned home, startled when she immediately blurted it out at him. He had just stared at her blankly, not hearing her demands that he go down there and talk to Negan, that he be interrogated for the truth. Instead he just turned to Carl for clarification of exactly what Calvin had said.

"He just said his best friend is the man who lives downstairs," Carl explained, reciting what Calvin had told him. "He made me promise not to tell."

Rick had wanted to wait until morning, to give himself some time to mull this over and consider the implications, but Carrie had refused him that luxury. Her ultimatum to him was clear, that either they talk to the kids immediately, or she was going down to talk to Negan herself, giving in to four years of ignoring his request to see her. With Calvin fast asleep already they brought their inquiry to Judith, going into her room and asking her to put down her book.

Just as they anticipated she might, Judith denied everything, and this had to be the most stressful conversation since learning that her dad had been hurt, that he might not come home to them. Judith's eyes were brimming with tears as her resistance crumbled, and her mouth trembled as she whispered her confession. Negan was her _friend_ too, the imaginary friend they all thought she had made up as part of innocent childhood. Her sweet face was twisted into an expression of worry and distress, for she already knew that she was surely in a great deal of trouble.

"He's nice to me," she said anxiously, trying to explain. "He's _always_ nice to me."

Though she had tried to brace herself for it, this answer made Carrie's stomach churn, bile rising in her throat as the situation grew worse. It wasn't just a childish fantasy, the ramblings of a sleepy four year old. It was real…it was happening.

"It doesn't matter if he's nice to you," Carrie said gently, trying to make her understand. "Mommy and Daddy told you never to talk to him. Negan is a bad man, and he will hurt you."

"He's not!" she exclaimed. "He tells us funny jokes and stories, and he's never…"

She trailed off when Carrie raised her hand. "Who is us?" she asked, wanting to get to that point next. "You said he tells _us_ funny jokes. Who is us?"

Alarmed, Judith's eyes widened as she looked up to Rick who stood in the doorway, seeking an ally, someone to tell her it was going to be okay, but she wasn't getting that from him right now. She wouldn't answer, sniffling loudly as Carrie pressed her again for an answer until Rick came forward.

"Judith, you are to tell the truth," he said, crouching down in front of her. He managed to force a smile, reaching out and taking her hand. "You must always tell us the truth. Who else goes to see Negan?"

She was looking into her lap when she spoke, her voice whisper quiet. "Cal."

"Who else?"

Judith mumbled, finally making her next confession. "Matilda…a-and Dog."

"Is that the whole truth?"

"Yes."

"Good girl," he said quietly, taking a moment to collect himself as he glanced up at Carrie. The revelation that Matilda was also involved was unsurprising, but still a huge blow…how were they going to tell Daryl and Lana? "Do you remember us telling you not to talk to Negan?"

She remained silent for a few moments, answering only when he repeated the question. "Yes."

"Then why did you go down there?"

"He said it would be okay," she insisted, her voice becoming tight with little sobs. "He promised you wouldn't get mad if I didn't go past the window!"

"Negan told you to come down there?"

"Yes," she tearfully nodded. "He promised you wouldn't get mad, so you can't."

"If it was okay, then why did you keep it a secret? Why were you hiding it from us?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, sniffling again. She looked down at her lap again in misery, starting to hiccup as she cried.

"How long as he been your friend?"

"I don't know."

"How long have you been going to see him?"

"He's not a bad man," she suddenly exclaimed, glaring at Rick. "He told me that you locked him up because you don't like him. He told me you're the bad man!"

"Judith," Carrie intervened, making her look around at her. "That's enough."

They paused for a minute, letting the heightened emotions subside. As Judith continued to cry Carrie pulled herself up to sit on the bed with her, putting her arm around her and bringing her close. A few minutes passed in silence, Rick and Carrie looking at one another anxiously as they waited for Judith to settle enough to keep talking.

"Did Negan tell you about the baby?" he asked, keeping his tone gentle. "Did he tell you how the baby got inside mom?"

"He said you gave it to her."

"What else did he tell you about the baby?"

"I don't know…nothing," she shrugged, turning to Carrie. "He said he didn't know anything else."

"And how did Negan know about the baby? Who told him there was a baby coming?"

"We did…me and Calvin."

"Did he ever ask you to do anything for him?" he asked sharply. "Did you go inside the basement?"

"Enough," Carrie said lowly, making herself clear.

Rick looked at her in annoyance, for clearly he wasn't done with his questioning, but at the look she gave him he seemed to get the hint. Relaxing his body language he took Judith's hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for telling the truth," he forced out. He kissed her on the cheek, his other hand stroking the crown of her head. "I love you, Judy."

She didn't say anything when he got up and left, and now that it was just the two of them Judith sniffled loudly and moved closer to her, reaching around her belly for comfort. "I don't want to be in trouble…"

Though she held her close Carrie stopped short of saying she wouldn't be in trouble. This was a big deal, and though she was only six years old Judith had broken their trust, had knowingly lied to them for months, maybe longer. "It's going to be okay," she said kindly, kissing her on the cheek. "But you cannot be Negan's friend anymore."

Judith remained silent, not putting up an argument or a protest, though one was sure to come eventually. They lingered there for a little while, Carrie waiting until she had settled down before tucking her back into bed. "Why don't you listen to some music," she suggested, knowing she would need to drown out a heated discussion very soon. "What would you like to listen to?"

Miserable, Judith was unenthusiastic when she answered. "Spice Girls."

"Good choice," Carrie said, putting in the CD and queuing up her favourite song. When it started playing she adjusted the volume and then went back to Judith, leaning down to kiss her good night even though it was uncomfortable and strained her back. "Love you, Judy Pie."

She mumbled something in reply, still looking glum when Carrie kissed her a second time. Leaving her to sort through her feelings in privacy she made her way into Calvin's room next door, unsurprised to see that he had roused, no doubt aware that something out of the ordinary was going on. He gave her a cheeky smile and then hid his face in the pillow, pretending he was asleep, and for those few moments Carrie just lingered. It made her feel sick to the stomach, but she could picture him and Judith sitting outside Negan's window talking to him, their best friend…and all the while she had been oblivious. They used to think it was good to let them have independence, to let them take walks around Alexandria unsupervised. But perhaps it was too soon to give them that independence after all.

Making her way in she straightened the blankets and sheets, making sure he wouldn't get his feet tangled, because he often moved himself into strange positions as he slept. "Close your eyes," she murmured as she kissed him on the crown of the head. "Go to sleep."

Calvin giggled, a sound she could normally relish. "Yes, Mommy."

He giggled again, signalling he had no intention of immediately going back to sleep, but he knew better than to set a foot out of his bed unless it was for the toilet…then again, they thought he knew better than to talk to Negan. Out in the hallway she looked up the stairs, able to see shadows on the wall that were no doubt Carl and Enid listening in. They'd talk to them in the morning, but for now other discussions needed to be had first.

When she entered the bedroom she was mentally checking off what Rick needed to do next, ready to tell him to go hard at Negan, to try and catch him in a lie and then inflict punishment. No books or entertainment, no damn baseball, no light in the evenings, and no more fucking orange juice with his breakfast. It would be back to the old days of the basic necessities to keep him alive, clothing, shelter and food, that was it. But she was taken aback when she saw Rick in their bedroom, momentarily speechless. Instead of putting on his boots and coat he had instead changed into his sweat pants and teeshirt. He was coming out of the bathroom, his teeth brushed and face washed ready to turn in for the night.

"Aren't you gong to confront him?" she asked expectantly, gesturing to the door.

He barely glanced at her, his answer short and clipped. "Not now."

"Yes, now!" she exclaimed in frustration, already seeing exactly where this conversation would go. "Right now!"

"Carrie…" he said tersely, sitting on the edge of the bed and removing his watch. He tossed it onto the nightstand, unusually rough with it. "If I talk to him right now I'll kill him."

"Good," she said bluntly. "It's time, Rick. It's god damn time! W-we should have never let him live."

Immediately she knew she had said the wrong thing by the vile look he gave her, four years of burden rearing its ugly head without warning. "There was no _we_. There was you, deciding for all of us."

Carrie cursed under her breath. "You're throwing that at me right now?"

"Good'a time as any."

"Yes, I made the appeal for him to live. But I'm not the one who moved our family into this house," she hissed. "I'm not the one who brought our children right next door to him."

"What was I supposed to do? You decided for all of us, and God knows I backed you up like I should have. But since then, you…" he started to trail off, perhaps reconsidering his choice of words. "All you've done is resent what I've had to do."

"Damn right I resent it. I can't stand having him live down there!" she exclaimed, not understanding why he didn't get it. "He's right next to us."

"What did you expect?" he snapped, getting up from the bed to properly face her. "Who did you think was going to take responsibility for him?"

"I…just t-"

"Four and half years, and you haven't set foot down there. I can't barely get you to make a plate of food scraps for him."

Again she swore under her breath, turning away from him and beginning to pace the room. Uncomfortable after getting up and down from children's beds she put her hands on the back of her hips, trying to work out the ache as she aligned her thoughts. But Rick wouldn't give her a moment to catch her breath, not that she blamed him.

"I didn't want to move here either, but we had to show people it was safe, that if we could live with it then so could they."

"Well, I can't anymore," she said simply, softening her tone now that he had. "I've tried, I really have and I know you've done more than your share. But this is a bridge too far…this is too much." With a heavy breath she turned around to face him again, and she felt the baby moving inside her, the movement automatically drawing her hand to her belly. "He's been talking to our children. Judy's already been asking him questions about the baby, about sex! God knows what else he's been telling her. We've got to do something about this."

"I know what you're getting at," he began apologetically. "But we can't kill him. People would not take kindly to an unauthorised execution."

"There are plenty more people who would rejoice in his death."

"We've spent years trying to fix things," he desperately implored. "Four years trying to bring everyone back together. We can't ruin that by making him a martyr."

"Yes, we can. For our children, we can. What if one day he convinced them to go down there?"

"Carrie-"

"What if he got out and he took them?"

"He's never going to get out," he argued. "I know it's not Fort Knox in there, but it's pretty damn simple to keep the doors locked. He's not going to hurt them."

"Then what, huh? Shall we be the mean mom and dad who punish their kids for wanting a friend?"

"They should be punished!" he suddenly exclaimed, raising his voice. "They know better than to talk to him. They lied to us!"

"They're six and four…they're children," she said, thinking about Judith's impassioned argument that Negan wasn't a bad man. "They don't understand what the war meant."

"Well they're about to understand the meaning of consequences."

"What do you propose?" she asked expectantly, eager to hear his perfect solution. "Ground them? Spank them with your belt?"

"Jesus," he muttered in frustration, looking at her in disdain. "I'm not going to beat my children with a belt."

"Then what?" she demanded. "What are we going to do to protect them from him?"

"I…" he started, staring at her. "I don't know, okay? But I do know that we cannot execute a prisoner. Not if we ever want to keep peace with the other communities. We committed to the treaty. We have to see his sentence through or this could all go to shit again."

Having heard enough, Carrie snatched his pillow off the bed and tossed it at him. "You're sleeping on the couch."

He stared at her incredulously, the pillow falling to the floor. "Four years ago we could barely trade a pig for a stick of gum. You really want to go back to that?"

"I'm trying to look after this family," she snarled, pulling back the blankets and arranging her many pillows just the way she liked. "We're supposed to be doing that together."

"I am. By not making him a martyr."

"Get out," she said angrily, tossing one of her own pillows at him for good measure. "Get the fuck out of my bedroom!"

A little to her annoyance, he actually did what she asked. Rather than staying to keep arguing he snatched his pillow off the floor, swearing under his breath in a way he never normally would speak to her. It took all the self control she had to not keep going at him, to not provoke a longer and worse fight until she finally got her own way and had Negan executed. But she had barely a second to think on this before her heart faltered, for the moment Rick opened the door she heard voices on the other side.

Hastening to look out a lump welled up in the base of her throat when she saw Judith tearfully standing in the middle of the hallway, Carl trying to coax her to go back into her bedroom. Behind them Calvin was peeking out of his bedroom too, looking worried by what all the fuss was about.

"I'm really sorry, Mom," Judith said tearfully, pulling her hand out of Carl's and then coming forward. "He's just our friend, that's all. He's always nice to us."

Behind her Calvin's eyes widened with alarm, and he burst out into the hallway. "No he's not," he exclaimed. "He's not ever our friend, r-remember Judy?"

At this Rick just sighed, looking back at her as he headed for the stairs. "Our children are lying to us," he said shortly. "Maybe they _should_ be spanked."

Ignoring him all together, Carrie ushered Calvin and Judith to come into the main bedroom, apologising to Carl and Enid. Meanwhile Rick stomped his way down the staircase to sleep on the couch, and though she was still seething in anger at him she spared him not a single more thought. Judith was sobbing horrendously as she climbed into Carrie's bed, while Calvin watched on in confusion, slowly realising they had been caught out, that the secret he told his big brother in confidence was out now. As realisation dawned on him his face fell, and he looked at Carrie and his sister in worry, not quite sure of how to react.

"I want him to be my friend," Judith was crying, the pillow already damp beneath her face. "I promise I won't go past the window if he can be my friend. Please, Mom?"

Not knowing what to say to them, Carrie had to settle for saying as little as possible. Lifting Calvin up she helped tuck him in on Rick's side and then hastily changed into her pyjamas, managing to quickly pee as Judith lay in her bed still crying, waiting for her. It was difficult enough to get comfortable at seven months pregnant, but even more so when Judith entwined herself into her arms, an embrace she wouldn't refuse. With her outstretched arm clumsily stroking Calvin's back she comforted them both as best she could, her own heart still pounding, her mind unable to relax.

The last four years had been about punishing Negan, about making him suffer as remorse and guilt ate him up inside…but it seemed he wasn't the only one her punishment hurt.

* * *

Wednesday, November 2

The next morning felt particularly awkward, for though they'd had fights before and would have more in the future, a good night of sleep usually helped settle the tension. But with Rick on the couch and Carrie with two children neither of them had slept well, leaving them tired, uncomfortable and overly polite.

Rick had enlisted someone else to deliver Negan's breakfast that morning, and she was pleased to note it was little more than a piece of dry toast and lacklustre smear of butter. As Carrie made breakfast for the kids their entire family were walking on egg shells, leaving poor Henry bewildered given he had been on watch when everything came out. He was glancing between the two of them trying to figure out what was wrong, and then he quickly made a disappearance to get an early start on his work, using the same excuse Carl and Enid had.

While Rick was stacking the dishwasher Carrie was cleaning the pans she had used, having made the kids scrambled eggs for breakfast, wanting to brighten their day. It had helped a little, their eyes lighting up when they smelled what was coming from the kitchen, and immediately they had rushed to start getting plates and bowls set onto the kitchen counter where they would eat. But as the awkwardness of the morning continued the glum expression seemed to come back over their faces, Judith's in particular.

That morning Rick had come back into their bedroom a little after five o'clock, getting dressed and ready to head out for the milking. Carrie had been wide awake, unable to sleep between the baby moving and the kids taking up space and using her pillows. When he came towards the bed he reached down to nudge Judith awake, to get her out of bed to join him for her daily chores, but Carrie tersely told him to let her be. Judith had cried herself to sleep last night, devastated that she couldn't talk to her beloved friend anymore…the last thing she needed was to be woken up for chores.

"I talked to the kids before you got back," Carrie murmured, broaching the topic of conversation. Judith and Calvin were currently sitting on the couch together, enjoying the treat of being able to watch television instead of being sent outside to occupy themselves. "They won't go down there again. They both promised."

Wiping his hands clean on a kitchen towel, Rick came closer so they could talk in hushed tones. "I'm not sure that's enough. They need to be disciplined…somehow."

"No. They're not to be punished," she said firmly. "And this is not to be spoken of with them again. They're upset enough as it is, they don't need you going at them too."

Rick opened his mouth, about to depend himself from her insinuation that he would be overly harsh. But instead he let it go, choosing a different path. "I'm going to talk to him soon."

"And what's the plan?"

He sighed, rubbing his hand over the side of his face. "I don't know," he said softly, but his tone of voice said more than words could. He sounded defeated, like he was asking her to cut him a break.

Wanting to make peace she reached out to him, placing her hand over his. He took her hand and breathed out, his shoulders relaxing a little, but not entirely. "I know what we're facing here…I know we have to put our children above all else."

She quirked her eyebrows at this, surprised he even had to say that as if their priority had to be clarified at all. "Yes."

"My hands are tied. There's nothing I can do."

"No there's not!" she hissed, immediately infuriated with him. "There is so-"

Raising his hand he cut her off, looking remarkably levelheaded. "I need you to listen," he said quietly, glancing into the living room for a moment. "Really listen to what I'm saying."

Carrie withheld a huff of annoyance. "What?"

He cleared his throat, looking her in the eye. "Negan is covered by the treaty, I cannot do anything to mistreat or harm him," he said quietly, holding her gaze. " _My_ hands are tied…there is nothing _I_ can do."

Carrie stared at him for a moment, realisation slowly dawning on her. Alexandria might run day to day with a council, but Rick was still their leader. He had to be beyond reproach, particularly where it concerned the treaty. Harming Negan would be a breach, it could be the starting point for others to do the same in their own communities, to commit breaches of their own. There was nothing _he_ could do…but that didn't mean she was powerless.

"If you want to do something about this…I can't know."

Leaving the conversation at that he gave her a habitual kiss on the cheek before leaving the kitchen, tossing the kitchen towel onto the counter as he went. But to her surprise he didn't head downstairs to Negan, but rather made his way into the living room where the kids were. He closed the drapes on the windows and then ushered Calvin to move aside, allowing him to sit down with them. Rick hadn't watched television since his accident and the months of recovery that followed, but even though he was putting off the confrontation with Negan even longer she found she didn't mind. She could hear him asking the kids questions, getting caught up even though he must have surely watched his movie when Carl was younger. Forgetting all about the drama of last night Calvin got up and settled himself in Rick's lap, allowing Judith to move closer and sit by his side.

She understood that what had to happen next could not involve him, that whatever she did needed to provide him plausible deniability. Her so recent anger with him began to recede, understanding what needed to happen next…she was the one who had the power to do something, she just had to make sure she got it right.

* * *

One month later

Saturday, December 3

The sunny weather was a stark contrast to the dark mood Lana was trying to keep at bay. She felt like she was about ready to lose her shit today, to flip her lid, because that morning she'd been met with disappointment when she started her period. For the last month she and Daryl had been trying for a baby, and though she'd resisted the temptation to take a pregnancy test she hadn't really prepared herself for disappointment. But her cycle had been late, and she had gotten her hopes up. They had conceived Matilda by accident, by not being careful…why wasn't it that quick this time around?

Daryl too had been disappointed when her period came, but he seemed to just brush it off for her sake, simply saying it would happen for them next month. Since when was he a damn optimist? The look she gave him must have been pretty vile because he quickly made himself scarce, grabbing his crossbow and heading out for the day. She felt a little bad for taking it out on him, it wasn't his fault, she supposed she was still getting used to having him around so much.

With the intention of falling pregnant he hadn't taken off on his usual trip to the other communities, instead choosing to stay home in Alexandria. Now he was just constantly there all the time, asking what they were having for dinner, wondering what her plans were for the day. Why couldn't he make his own damn social plans? Why did he have to always be around, trying to spend time with her…didn't he have anything better to do? His near constant presence and her growing aggravation reminded her of what it was like growing up when her dad used to work at the mines. He would be away for five or six weeks and then home for two, and though they always looked forward to his return it was a genuine upheaval, it took some getting used to. The same thing was happening now with Daryl, except all she could do was send him around to Rick's house with a beer or out to hunt yet again.

Daryl's near constant presence and her disappointment with not falling pregnant wasn't the only thing weighing on her mind. Negan was like a dark cloud lingering above her head, and this annoyed her to no end. She had spent four and a half years not thinking about him, living her life completely unbothered by his presence. Though he was there in Alexandria he was simply no longer part of her life, he didn't occupy her thoughts. Now the bastard had reared his ugly head again, making her feel like it was five years ago back at the Sanctuary, married to him, sleeping in his bed…except this time he wasn't fucking her directly. Instead he was messing with her through Matilda, through her child.

It made her feel physically sick, like she had failed Matilda by not even suspecting that she might have one day gone back on her promise not to go anywhere near Negan. But by the sounds of what Carrie and Rick told them it wasn't entirely the kids' fault. Negan was the one who coaxed them to talk to him, convincing them it was okay so long as they didn't go past the window…convincing them he wasn't the bad man their parents had told them about. He had become their friend, gained their trust and somehow convinced them to keep it a secret, even telling them to pretend he was their imaginary friend. It wasn't hard to manipulate children who just wanted friendship.

Daryl hadn't handled the revelation well, not in any way. In their family Lana tended to be the disciplinarian, she was the parent around most often and Matilda just didn't tend to push Daryl's limits very far. But this time he was the one who came down on her, and he was too harsh about it. He had yelled at Matilda, his anger and delivery meaning the message was completely lost on her. Having never been yelled at by him she just dissolved into tears, distraught that she had wronged her adored father, upset by the anger in his voice. Ultimately Lana had to tell him to cut it out, the four year old too upset to actually listen to anything he was saying. In the end they hadn't outright punished her, Lana agreeing with Carrie's ascertain that the kids were upset enough as it was, but it seemed Matilda still wasn't quite over it. She kept bringing it up every few days, kept walking out the front door and pretending to forget the new rule that she wasn't allowed out alone anymore.

As for Negan, his punishment had been was not sufficient in Lana's opinion. His privileges had been revoked, his books, potted plant, baseball and glove taken away…he had nothing but a bucket to shit in and his own company. Hell, he was lucky he still had fresh air and natural light, because Daryl would have boarded up the windows if Rick would have let him. Another thing that aggravated them was Rick, that any punishment had to be in line with the treaty guidelines. It still infuriated her that the treaty covered the rights of Negan and anyone else who might ever be imprisoned, that they had to provide certain conditions, that capital punishment had to be agreed upon by all four communities.

Despite the mediocre punishment things had blown up, word spreading about what happened as Negan started kicking up a fuss. He resisted the punishments with everything he had, which was now admittedly very little. He had thrown his bucket of piss and shit, forced to put up with the filth when Rick refused to clean the cell. After that he had bashed his head against the wall a few times, forcing a visit from Saddiq and threat of being forcibly restrained. Now his most recent resistance was a hunger strike, one that was in its third day now. Rick wasn't entertaining whatever demands it was he was making, continuing to bring him food three times a day, even if it went untouched and had to be fed to the pigs.

"How long does it take someone to starve to death?"

She and Carrie were sitting outside at the playground, engaging in the painfully dull task of constantly supervising their kids. Lana had longed for the day that Matilda was old enough to go out on her own, to be supervised from afar by the other people who were always around. Now after what happened with Negan their children had lost their parents' trust, and there were no more unaccompanied walks or bike rides, no more trips to the playground. Lana detested this part of motherhood, of having to be constantly supervising someone who didn't want it, but there was no denying the renewed necessity.

"Weeks," Carrie said lowly, not needing to clarify who they were talking about. She was squirming around on the park bench, always unable to get comfortable at eight months pregnant. "Faster if he stops drinking water."

Lana huffed under her breath, knowing Negan had yet to refuse water. "Bastard would rather draw it out than go quickly. We should stop giving him water, solve the problem all together."

There was a brief pause, Carrie also crossing her arms. Though they had discussed this at great length a month ago, since then discussion of Negan had largely died down, each of them having their own problems to deal with also. She moved around again, still trying to get comfortable. "You think he should die?"

"Don't you?" Lana challenged. "I know you regret letting him live. He's Alexandria's prisoner, we should be able to kill him if we want to."

"We're bound by the treaty," she reminded her. "Negan may live here, but he's everyone's prisoner."

"They should all want him dead as much as us," she muttered angrily, her voice starting to become louder than necessary. "At least they used to."

"They still do," Carrie started to explain. "But killing him would be the same as Maggie and Jesus executing those Saviours. We'd set ourselves back years."

Lana fell silent now, knowing that Carrie was right. But she couldn't get out of her head the image of Matilda down by that window, that asshole befriending her and filling her mind with God only knew what bullshit. Now Matilda was acting like they'd cut off her arm because she couldn't be friends with him anymore…and one day she was going to go back there. There was no way Lana could supervise her every minute of the day, for even at four years old Matilda had to learn how to be independent at least around Alexandria. Sooner or later, she would go back there.

Carrie sighed, leaning forward with her face in her hands. As she tried to collect her thoughts Lana looked over at the kids who were playing together, her eyes automatically seeking out Matilda. Completely fearless she had scaled the playground and was sitting on the roof of the rocket ship, and though it worried her there was no point in telling her to get down. Matilda's version of get down was jump down. It came as no surprise to them that she had tested the boundaries of what she was allowed to do, that she had gone down there to talk to a man everyone had told her was dangerous and bad.

"If we can't kill him, some other community should take him," Lana said petulantly. "We'd find out how much they care about the treaty then."

"We don't have to risk the treaty," Carrie said tentatively, still sitting forward with her head in her hands. "He doesn't have to be executed."

"Let him commit suicide? Aren't we obliged to protect him from himself?"

Carrie shook her head, slowly sitting up as her hands settled on the girth of her belly. "It just needs to be no one's fault. People get sick," she said nonchalantly. "Some times they get better…sometimes they don't."

A long pause came to pass, Lana holding her breath. She looked at Carrie cautiously, her friend and confidant of five years…she liked where this was going. "What are you getting at?"

Reaching into her satchel she rummaged around, taking out a hard cover gardening book. "I need you to go out and get something. It's pretty far, otherwise I'd go myself. I wouldn't make it halfway."

She opened the book and passed it over, drawing Lana's attention to one particular photograph on the page, a flower she recognised well. Years ago Vetor had picked some for her as a peace offering following an argument, and not realising the danger she had passed the bouquet around their group to let them see, but within hours they had all broken out into painful blisters. It was a lesson hard learned for them, particularly so for Lana who had smelled the flowers and ended up with blisters all over her face and inside her nose…but that wasn't the worst of what Jimsonweed could do.

"I know where to find this. There's some out near Forrest road."

"I just need you to get it for me," Carrie asked, waiting anxiously for her response. "I can do the rest."

Closing the book Lana swiftly passed it back to her, still looking at her with caution. "Are you serious about this, or has the baby messed with your head? You're talking about murder."

Carrie just nodded, not perturbed by the choice of words. "I've been thinking about this for weeks. Rick all but asked me to do it, he just can't be involved."

"You want to murder him, and cover it up?" she questioned, holding her gaze as the pieces began falling into place. "So Alexandria doesn't get the blame."

"Yes," she confirmed. There was a pause, the two of them deliberating before Carrie gestured to the book. "It will work, I know it will. I just need your help to get it, and to…clean up after."

Lana let out a slow breath…she'd never plotted to murder someone like this. In fact, the last person she had tried to kill was actually Negan. She glanced at Carrie from the corner of her eye, knowing that she regretted her rash decision to let Negan live, more than one bottle of wine had been consumed over this discussion. Lana agreed with this regret, believing they never should have let Negan live, that they were better off being rid of him once and for all.

She turned her attention back to Matilda and watched her playing…she imagined her down there talking to Negan, hearing Daryl's angry voice as he ranted and argued with Rick. He had been so afraid that Negan might have already done something to the kids, something so sick Daryl couldn't even say the words. In this respect Lana wasn't overly worried, she didn't suspect that Negan had done anything inappropriate, particularly through a barred window, but Daryl's sickened fear was enough to push her in what she felt was the right direction.

"I'm not letting that plant anywhere near you," she said bluntly, gesturing to Carrie's belly. "I'll take care of it. I know what to do."

"I want to be the one who gives it to him."

"You sure that's a good idea? You haven't seen him since that day at Oceanside."

"Neither have you."

"True, but I haven't been avoiding him, I'm just don't care. You haven't been to see him because you can't stand the thought."

Carrie shook her head as she put the book back into her satchel. "I want to do it myself," she said firmly, sounding insistent. "It's about time I confronted him."

"Do you regret letting him live?"

At this question Carrie paused, letting out a long breath of air. "Yes," she admitted heavily. "At the time it felt right…I guess I just didn't think about what it actually meant for us. For Alexandria."

Lana nodded in agreement, feeling like she understood. "For the record," she began as she got to her feet. "It might not have been the right thing to do…but that doesn't make it the wrong thing either."

"Thanks. You're going out now?"

"If you can watch Tilly, yeah. Daryl's out hunting, but he went south I think. We should get it all now before the frost ruins the flowers."

"Make sure no one sees what we're doing," she implored. "Rick's right, we can't screw up the treaty."

Glad she at least understood this, Lana nodded to reassure her. Getting ready to head out she crossed the sandy playground to say goodbye to Matilda, calling for her to come down so she could give her a kiss. Only slightly terrified by her daughter's fearlessness, she watched as Matilda crept over to the edge of the rocket ship roof and then jumped down, landing perfectly in the sand just like she always did.

"Where you going?" she asked, allowing Lana to kiss her goodbye.

"Out to kill some Walkers. You go home with Carrie, and behave yourself for her. Got it?"

Matilda nodded, already heading back to the playground slide and climbing up it. Calvin was sitting at the top waiting to go down, laughing when she blocked him. "Kill them good," she called out, sitting in front of Calvin so they could slide down together.

Confident that Matilda would be more than adequately cared for with Carrie she headed home to prepare, collecting her heavy coat, a small bag and from beneath the sink a pair of rubber dishwashing gloves. Crouched there she looked at the bright yellow gloves, briefly reconsidering what Carrie had asked her to do. This wasn't killing someone in self-defence, this wasn't the heat of a battle…nor had Negan actually harmed their children.

This would be cold blooded murder. Was she willing to have that on her conscience?

Lana considered this for a few moments, but the answer was clear to her, even if she wasn't comfortable with what they were doing. Without further delay she tucked the gloves into the satchel and filled a bottle with water, ensuring she had what she needed should she get stuck outside for longer than planned. At their weapons safe by the front door she collected her guns and a machete, confident that no one would question where she was going or what she was doing. It wasn't unusual to go out killing the dead, taking out your frustration on corpses and getting a little exercise in at the same time.

When she passed through the gate she breathed in the taste of freedom. Though she disliked it she understood too well why Daryl was always out on the road, why he was often on supply runs or hunting. Outside the gates was far less complicated than the world inside, for out here she had one job to do, one task to complete and think about…Jimsonweed.

* * *

A/N I hope you're enjoying the chapters coming so quickly right now - please do leave a review, I simply cannot get enough of reading them, and I'm so sad I won't have any more feel good moments when the story ends.

What are your thoughts on Carrie's decision to kill Negan after four years? Should she have stuck to her guns like they did in the show, or is she doing the right thing?


	82. Chapter 82

A/N I would have liked to spend more time on this chapter, to better develop Carrie's thought process and decision making (it's a bit disjointed), in particular the doubts she feels about what she does. But unfortunately I'm trying to wrap up this story before I go travelling for a month, so I just had to do my best and churn it out. I leave tonight - argh!

Also, the storyline used to be much more confrontational, much angrier with Carrie and Rick opposed to one another, confrontational with Negan. But ultimately I took a different approach and rewrote it all, and I'm much happier with how it turned out. I hope you like it.

* * *

It was dark by the time Carrie stepped out into the night, the crisp December air biting at her cheeks. Tonight the air was calm and serene, fitting for an evening of moonlight yoga that ran twice a week. Right now this hour long yoga session in the cool night air was one of the only things that kept Carrie going, both physically and mentally. Ally was proving to be a challenging pregnancy, but her physical discomfort wasn't the only thing on her mind.

Before she closed the front door she lingered a moment to listen upstairs, enjoying the sounds of the kids playing in the bath. By now they were old enough to supervise themselves, but Rick was sitting up there with them to keep them company. He still detested having to read out loud to them, he always had after all, but bath time with the bubbles and toys he genuinely enjoyed. After closing the door she went down to the bottom step and gradually lowered herself down into a seated position, setting her yoga mat aside and shortbread cookie aside.

The last month had been a roller coaster of emotions, news of what Negan had been doing spreading around Alexandria like wildfire. People demanded to know what was being done about it, some concerned that it wasn't enough, other misguided people concerned that he might be mistreated. The entire time Carrie had been wracked with doubt and guilt, unsure of what to do, hating that she was the one who had ultimately led them here.

Thankfully things had died down quickly, people's interest and outrage turning elsewhere as they refocused on other things. More recently, their family and the community were all riding high on the news Carl and Enid had given when they returned from their final trade journey. They were engaged, Carl proposing to her at the Hilltop after Thanksgiving, and everyone was thrilled for them, and Rick delirious with joy even though he tried to downplay it. For him, Carl and Enid's engagement was one of the many signs that he had done the right thing over the years, that his fight to provide a future for his family had succeeded.

But while others celebrated Thanksgiving and news of the engagement, the mood in the Grimes household was dampened at times. Although publicly the drama with Negan and their children had blown over, that didn't reflect the true reality of what they were dealing with. At first the kids had taken the renewed restrictions quite well, quickly getting used to the fact that they were no longer trusted to go out on their own, that they couldn't see Negan any more. That lasted almost two weeks before the cracks started to show, Judith throwing a world class tantrum the likes of which Carrie had never dealt with before.

She had caught her trying to slip out the front door, having fetched a step stool from the kitchen so she could reach the upper latch, but when she was caught Carrie didn't have time to scold her before Judith lost it. At eight months pregnant there was little she could do except let the tantrum burn out, surely she couldn't wrestle a six year old who was completely distraught, still mourning the loss of her supposed best friend. By this day Carrie's patience had already been wearing thin, already wracked with doubt over what she ought to do, and Judith had almost pushed her over the edge. She wanted to shake her, to shout and yell until she finally understood. It took everything she had to keep her temper, to not upset Judith more than she already was.

Later that day she had tried to explain, calmly telling her a heavily sanitised version of the war, the truth about Negan's imprisonment. She had explained about her cousin Herschel's dad, their friends and family that had died at the hands of Negan, people she knew from family photographs but was unable to actually recall. What happened to Daryl and herself she was purposefully vague about, for it was easier to explain things like the burns on Mark's face than it was for Judith to see the impact of something that had no physical evidence.

After their talk Judith said she understood, and clearly her disheartened expression suggested she at least believed what Carrie had told her. Since then she hadn't brought up Negan again, hadn't asked about him or even asked if she could go out to the playground alone. For all intents and purposes it seemed Negan had blown over, but Carrie wasn't so confident, certain that one day it would all happen again. She couldn't keep her children locked in the house forever. Maybe it would be in a few weeks or a few months…but one day Judith, Calvin and Matilda would go back there.

It was this that spurred on her decision, the final shove in the right direction…or perhaps the wrong direction. She had her doubts about this, her stomach in knots for the last few weeks. Every time she thought about her decision to let Negan live she felt her cheeks redden as if embarrassed. It was selfish, it had pushed many people away and she wanted to fix it. But fixing it wasn't necessarily the right thing to do either…this was murder. It wasn't about survival or protecting itself, and it was only partly about protecting her kids. An overwhelming part of her just wanted this mistake to be over.

She could see a figure approaching in the darkness, Lana who was meeting her out there that evening. Accompanying her was someone, or better yet _something_ , that Carrie hadn't seen in a long time, visible only by the long shadow is cast in the moonlight.

"Where's Daryl?"

"On watch," Lana replied, leaning her elbow on top of the railing. "Tilly's asleep, she'll be fine for a little while."

Carrie looked at the mug she was holding, already feeling a sense of detachment. "It could take hours."

From her back pocket Lana produced a baby monitor, the very one Carrie had given her before Matilda's birth. In a few weeks she would take it back to use for Ally. "I haven't used this thing in years."

"How's the range?"

"It's fine. I used to bring it over here when she was little, remember?"

Carrie nodded, remembering those early days when Daryl would send Lana out of the house to get a break. Despite her exhaustion and being fed up with a newborn she wouldn't leave without the baby monitor, uncomfortable not knowing what was going on at home with her little girl.

"Don't spill this on yourself," Lana advised, passing her the mug of hot liquid.

As she took it she caught sight of a pink rash on Lana's wrist, and she paused to study it. "Is that from this?"

Lana nodded, unconcerned by it. "Daryl won't notice. If he does, I'll tell him it's bed bugs."

"Don't say bed bugs, he'll lose his mind," she warned, knowing that Daryl had grown up with bed bugs in his mattress, that he detested even the thought of them. "Thanks Lana. I appreciate this."

"I appreciate you letting me help."

They fell silent now, neither of them really knowing what else to say. The plan was simple, it hadn't take much to get Lana up to speed…but that didn't make carrying it out any easier. Together they lingered together there on the street, looking around at the remaining stragglers heading to moonlight yoga. If anyone saw them now there was nothing suspicious about two friends standing outside talking, sharing a cup of tea, but still they were cautious. There were still lights on in Gabriel's annex at the church, on the other side of which the yoga class would be starting. But Carrie would have to be late, and Lana would miss it all together on the pretence of watching Matilda.

They waited until there was no one else on the street, and then Carrie hauled herself up from the bottom step, trying not to over think this any more than she already had. Taking one more took around they made they way down the street to the second brownstone, opening the gate that had been preemptively oiled. As she crept down the steps Carrie looked down through the window to the small light inside, wondering if Negan could see that it was her coming. Not for the first time she imagined her kids sitting down here talking to him in secret. From the street they wouldn't be seen unless someone was intentionally looking down, making it easier to understand how they got away with it for so long.

The exterior door was locked, but many of them had keys, Daryl and Lana included, and so it was no barrier to their entry. When they entered it felt strange and eerie, this place one she used to frequent often when it still served as the pantry. What was no the prison cell used to be Olivia's little office, where they used to work together keeping record of the pantry supplies. They had input everything into a spreadsheet that helped them better plan their rations, but that had to be discarded when the Saviours came on the scene. Following Olivia's death Barbara had taken over the work, the pantry and supplies having been moved upstairs to the renovated part of the brownstone.

Lana didn't want to come in, instead choosing to wait on the lower steps outside, but they kept the door slightly ajar for her to listen. As Carrie moved further inside she tried to stop shaking when she turned to the cell, looking through the solid metal bars towards the bed, the lone piece of furniture fixed to the wall. Negan was sitting there, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and when he saw that it was her he gave a wide smile. He sat up and then leant back against the cinderblock wall, eyes drifting closed as he muttered something under his breath.

With a deep breath she allowed herself to study him at length, having not laid eyes on him since that day at Oceanside, since seeing him pinned down in the sand, begging her not to do this to him. At the time it had felt like justice was being served, though that feeling had been muted by her resentment of his mere proximity. Seeing how now was a reminder of the punishment she had inflicted not only on him, but on herself and the people around her.

Negan's hair and beard were shorter these days, and he wore navy blue trousers, a matching button up shirt and a pair of white trainers and socks. Carol had sewn him two sets of winter clothing and two sets of summer in a lighter fabric, and though the clothes were well made and fit properly the combination of those and his appearance were less than flattering. His forehead was scraped and heavily bruised, evidence of the way he had hurt himself. She didn't know if was an attempt to get Rick's attention and piss him off, or to actually hurt himself. On the floor by the bars was a paper plate of rice and vegetables, the same meal her family had shared that evening. Negan had pushed it aside, sticking to his hunger strike, but Carrie wondered if he ate any of it after Rick left, if he took just a small bite.

"I've been waiting four years for this," Negan commented, eagerly sitting forward. He stared, his intense gaze reminiscent of what he was like back at the Sanctuary. "Why do I think you're not here to make amends?"

His voice was low and gravelly, and it startled her how clearly she remembered it, how familiar it was. She still remembered the sound of his voice as he called her name at Oceanside, pleading with her in anguish.

"I suppose I'm not."

There was an awkward pause now, Negan shuffling forward to the edge of the bed and looking around to see who it was waiting outside. When he couldn't see he rose and went to the window, and Carrie was momentarily startled by his enormous size, by how tall he was…but he was no longer the intimidating and imposing figure he had once been. He was slimmer these days, his body wasting away in this small cell. Unable to see who it was out there he turned his attention back to her, looking at her warmly as he came towards the steel bars. He seemed genuinely happy to see her, the smile on his face looking rather cheerful and jolly.

"That for me?" he asked, peering at the shortbread cookie.

"Yes." It was unnerving to be so close to him, but she took a deep breath, reminding herself that she had nothing to be afraid of, that he couldn't hurt her.

"You heard about my hunger strike?" he questioned, his upper lip curling. "Think you can make me eat?"

"Not me. The kids," she lied. "We made holiday cookies today, they wanted you to have some."

Negan chuckled, his shoulders quaking. "And you're allowing that after the ass whoopin' I got over them?"

"I thought it would be kind."

His eyes widened dramatically, head tilting to the side. "I fucking remember your brand of kindness," he said suspiciously. "The kindness that put me in here." He paused for a moment, his expression sobering. Looking a little downcast he looked at the mug of tea she held in her other hand, studying it for a moment. "That for me too?"

Carrie's heart was pounding now, his despondent tone of voice making her wonder if he suspected what the tea really was, the real reason for her being there. Her hesitation to answer seemed to suggest a great deal, that this mug was for him, that it was the type of kindness he had become familiar with four years ago at Oceanside. For a long moment he just stared at her, waiting for her to say something, to explain what she was there for or to warn him of his impending fate, but she couldn't summon the breath to speak.

Finally he stepped back from the cell bars, but he wasn't turning away. Instead he continued to hold her gaze, torquing his jaw as he considered her.

"You know how this works? I stand underneath the window," he said quietly, gravitating towards the window in the far corner. "You open the gate and set my food on the bed. Both on our best behaviour."

She wasn't falling for that. The metal mug fit through the bars easily, and she held her breath as he came back to take it, not even hesitating. His fingers brushed against hers, the touch startling her though she managed to hide it. He lifted the mug to his face and studied it, swirling it around, and then giving up pretence of the hunger strike he gestured for the cookie. This too she passed through the bars without incident.

"The kids decorated that for you," she lied again. No one but Lana had any idea she was down here.

Negan smiled warmly as he looked at the cookie, his eyes lighting up. "That a Christmas tree?"

She nodded. "Three weeks away, they're excited about Santa. Unless you ruined that for them."

At this comment Negan rolled his eyes, but he seemed apologetic. "I didn't ruin Santa."

"But you ruined the Easter Bunny for Judith, right?"

"She figured that one out by herself," he said defensively. "I only told her the truth when she confronted me about it. Wanted to know how a rabbit could have chocolate eggs if it had live babies any other time. She's a smart girl…she's good with her schooling."

Without even trying to hide it Negan's eyes dropped down to her belly, the darkness and her coat doing little to hide her round belly. The happiness in his eyes faded a little, his smile faltering. "How many have you had for him?"

"Just this one," she answered, letting her hand come to rest on the side of her belly. "Calvin was for us. She's for the future." She didn't know why she was divulging such personal information, but she didn't mind…Negan wasn't long for this world anyway, and clearly he wanted to hear it. "Her name will be Alexandria. Ally."

"Nice name," he complimented. He cleared his throat now, quickly changing the conversation. "You sticking around to chat? Be real nice of you."

She hesitated, unsure of whether or not she should follow through on this. All she had to do was take the tea back, she could stop this right now. As her nerves and doubt continued to fester she tried to distract herself, repeating the mantra she had been telling herself all month. She had to correct her mistakes, she had to do something…besides, Negan wasn't exactly resisting, and it wasn't like he didn't at least suspect what she was there for.

To her left was the small hallway that led to the other prison cell at the end, one that was only rarely occupied when someone had a few too many drinks like at Halloween. Behind her was a low bench on which Rick would sit and wait, and stacked beside it was a small bookshelf piled high with books, a potted plant, a baseball and glove and rubik's cube, the confiscated belongings covered in dust. Curious to see more she looked back into the cell, seeing only the bed, a low stool and a bucket that served as his toilet, though sitting on the floor by the roll of toilet paper was a paperback book.

"He left you a book?"

Following her gaze Negan let out a snort of amusement. "No. He left me a _fuck you_. Told him it made me suicidal, so he left it. I've been using it to wipe my ass. Chafes like a bitch, but it's worth it."

Carrie just nodded, not really caring that his privileges had been adequately revoked. Choosing to stay she settled herself down onto the low bench, the same place Rick occupied three times a day. She wondered what they talked about, though she knew he must give Negan information about the community, about what they were doing these days, but never about their children. Negan also took a seat now, sitting on a low stool by the bars where he balanced the mug of tea on his knee. He took a bite of the cookie, looking rather impressed by it, but he paid no attention to the tea.

"How often would my children come to see you?"

"Oh, not that often," he said lightly. "I told them to only come when there was no one else around."

"So you taught my children to be deceitful."

"I can see why you'd feel that way, given I taught them how to avoid telling the truth."

He was looking into the mug of tea now, staring at it. "It's been near five years, why haven't you come to see me?" he asked heavily, clearing his throat a little. "Took talkin' to your kids and a hunger strike to get you down here."

Carrie delayed her answer, dwelling it on when she heard the hurt tone in his voice. "I told myself it was easier this way. Better to just forget about you."

"Ahh, but you can't."

"No. Not when you're literally next door."

Negan laughed loudly, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent prison cell. "I just about pissed myself when I realised he moved you in there. Wish I could'a been a fly on the wall that day. How'd you take it?"

Somewhat sharing his amusement, Carrie sighed. "He fell over himself trying to make me happy here. We painted the kid's rooms, decorated the place the way we liked…tried to make it feel like home."

"And does it?"

"Yes, it does," she said honestly, feeling this genuinely. "It's our home, but it's also like there's a mould infestation or something."

"That's what I am to you? Mould?"

"Is it a little harsh?"

"I suppose not," he acknowledged, his demeanour falling. He was looking back into the tea again, still studying it. "You've been keeping them away from me, haven't you? Judy and Calvin?"

"You're lucky we're not boarding up that window."

She hadn't answered his question. "They're not coming back?"

"No."

He sighed, glancing at her from the corner of his eye before looking back at his tea. "And there's nothing I can say or do to change your mind?" Without waiting for her answer he started. "I'll stop telling them things, stop askin' them to lie. It's just…I like those kids. They're nice company, that's all it is."

"I can't let them come back. You know I can't."

He gave a small nod of acknowledgement, but continued to sit there solemnly. It was a ridiculous sight, the tall man sitting on a tiny stool staring into a mug of tea. The silence stretched on, and just as she wished she could be privy to what was going through his mind he took a sip of the tea, testing its temperature. Carrie's heart just about leapt out of her throat, nerves and doubt making her hands writhe together in her lap. She felt the impulse to stop him drinking anymore, to stop this whole thing before it was too late. But as if he could hear her inner thoughts he took the last bite of shortbread followed by two large sips of tea in quick succession, and then he set it back down onto his knee.

He had to know what she was doing to him…why else wait to drink it until there was no hope of the kids coming back?

"I must have broken Rick," he commented, but without the usual smugness he would normally exude. "Even from inside this cell I can fuck with his head, break him. He raked me over the coals a little, but nothing like what he should have done. Wouldn't even hit me. Had me cuffed, defenceless, trying to pick a fight…and the prick wouldn't lay a finger on me."

This was not a surprise to her. "He can't mistreat you. The four communities have a treaty."

"I heard. Why would you do that?"

"We needed to. Each community was operating with different sets of rules, some of which needed to be universal."

"People were angry that you let me live," Negan commented, having some knowledge of the happenings around here. "They were cutting you out of trades."

She nodded, recalling this all too well. "Others were worried that your cell was Guantanamo Bay. The treaty isn't perfect, but it helped."

"What's it about?"

"Our expectations of one another, how we expect to be treated. Hilltop is formal these days, they hold elections. The Kingdom still has Ezekiel as King, it works for them. I don't know how Oceanside works anymore."

"And here? Rick still running things?"

She shook her head, relieved by this change. "Alexandria works with a council. No one has absolute authority."

"Not even Rick?"

"No."

"Sounds like he cut his own balls off."

"And yet I saw him gain ten years of life when we formalised the council. He's still our leader, but it's a figurehead position. More of a title than a responsibility."

"Can't be that way forever," Negan argued, sounding like he was lecturing her. "People need a leader. You think the Sanctuary would have thrived had it run with a council?"

Carrie furrowed her brow. "Did it really thrive?" she questioned. "The Saviours were parasites…you couldn't survive without a host, you were never self sufficient. That's not thriving."

"Given they're mostly dead now, you might have a point. I heard Mark and Amber had twins."

She nodded. "Mason and Alistair."

"And the others? How's Frankie doing?"

"She's good. She travels a lot, always in high demand. She usually hitches a ride with Carl and Enid once a month."

"And Bridget? Tanya?"

"Tanya runs the cafeteria at the Kingdom. I think Bridget went to Oceanside with her brother."

"Men are still in high demand there, am I right?" he laughed regretfully. "What about Dwight and Sherry?"

"They live at the Kingdom. Ezekiel was pretty liberal about who they took in."

The conversation lapsed now, Negan looking at the floor between his feet. She wished she knew what he was thinking, that she could have some insight into his psyche…would it bring her satisfaction? Or would it just leave her wallowing in his misery too?

"Calvin is gorgeous," he complimented, his smile genuine. "When it's your turn to do school snacks he always brings me something. Carrot sticks and hummus last month, right? It's nice of him…" As he trailed off he drank more of the tea, looking rather miserable. "Can you tell me more about him?"

Feeling sorry for him, Carrie did. "He's a good kid," she started, struggling to sum up the entirety of her son in a few short sentences. "He has a kind heart."

"Yeah, he does," Negan agreed. When she fell silent he looked up at her. "What else?"

Carrie cleared her throat, trying to think of what else she was willing to divulge. "We used to be worried about his speech, that it was delayed."

"Him? Kid used to talk my ear off."

"He wasn't always like that. It just took us a while to figure out he didn't need to talk because Judith knew what he wanted. We had to stop her doing things for him to actually make him start talking…now he won't shut up."

"I liked talking to him," Negan said softly, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes. "He's always got something to say. Do he and Judy get along?"

"They're best friends," she smiled, her heart warming. "Judith used to get in trouble for waking him when he was a baby, she couldn't help herself. I used to wake up in the morning and find her in the crib, playing with him."

"You think he'll like the new baby?"

She nodded. "He's had to become a little more independent the last few months. He won't mind."

"And Judith? Tell me about her…please."

"She's a good worker. If you give her a task to do, she'll do it. She likes going out with Rick, taking care of the animals…can't get her to stop reading though."

Negan chuckled in agreement. "I heard she was into Roald Dahl."

Carrie nodded. "I think she knows The Twits by heart."

"And, uh…" Negan began. "Matilda? Tell me about her."

At this request Carrie hesitated, turning to her right where Lana was waiting. She looked at her expectantly, answering the question only after Lana nodded in approval.

"Matilda is…the best of her parents," she said, meaning the compliment with all of her being. "She'll help anyone with anything, she's kind, she's outspoken. But if you don't keep her occupied she gets up to mischief."

"So I've heard," he smiled, putting his head back against the cinderblock wall. "And Carl? Heard he's engaged…building a place here for his bride."

Carrie smiled now, still overjoyed by their engagement. "He's more and more like Rick every day. He's spent the last four years serving the communities, holding us all together."

"I used to hope he'd be mine," Negan said wistfully. "Hell, I used to hope they'd all be mine, but especially him. He's got gumption, you know…"

Even in the dim light she could see a sweat breaking out on his brow, despite the cool evening air. His hand was wobbling when he drained the last remnants of tea from his mug, and it jostled when he set it down on the concrete floor. Despite her earlier doubts and reservations a sense of calm came over her now…she had followed through. There was nothing she could do but accept her decision, a decision he seemed to have seen coming.

"Are you happy?"

"That's an odd question."

"Not really," he argued, watching her closely. He laid his head back against the cinderblock wall, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "Are you happy?"

"I'm happy," she confirmed, letting out a slow breath. "Life isn't perfect, but it's good."

"How's the marriage?"

"It takes work, you'd know that. But it's worth the work."

"I still think about you and I," he said abruptly, barely listening to what she had said. "I think about you knifing him in the middle of the night, letting me take his place. I'd be a good husband to you…a good father."

"That's quite the fantasy."

"I know," he chuckled lightheartedly, looking a little embarrassed. "But the heart wants what the heart wants."

At this Carrie sighed, remembering this conversation all too well even though it was over four years ago. "You know it's not me you want. You remember that, right?"

"I know, I know," he chuckled again. He raised a hand to wipe at the sweat on his brow, grunting under his breath. "It's what you _have_ that I want. A family, four kids, exactly the number Lucille and I wanted. Boy, girl, boy, girl…" he trailed off as he sniffled, strumming his fingertips on his knee as his eyes darted over to her. "I know you brought her. I saw."

"Lucille? Yes, I brought her."

Releasing a low breath Negan raised his head from the cinderblock wall, one hand gripping the steel bars of his cell. "Please, let me have her. Just one last time."

Not needing to dwell on this, for it was something she had already considered allowing, Carrie got to her feet. She felt a little self conscious about the way his eyes followed her pregnant belly, studying her, wanting the life she and Rick shared. Trying to ignore him for now she briefly stepped outside, reaching for the baseball bat Lana was passing to her.

"Did he drink it?" she whispered.

Carrie nodded, not saying anything else. Lana seemed relieved by this confirmation, but just like Carrie felt inside she seemed a little scared, nervous for what was about to happen. Negan's whole body was trembling when he stood up, the expression on his face making him look even weaker. But his eyes lit up when he saw Lucille, and she watched his face go through a myriad of emotions; joy, relief, elation…and heart break when she wouldn't allow him to hold it. He was reaching through the steel bars, longing to touch it, to reconnect. The barbed wire was long gone, this feature too sickening for them to tolerate, but otherwise the bat would be exactly as he remembered it.

Though he had wiped it with his sleeve Negan's brow was damp with sweat again, the hair on his upper lip glistening with more. His cheeks were flushed red, his breaths short and shallow…the poison was working.

"Rick and the others use it when they goes out. They says it's good for Walkers."

"I know she is," Negan said wistfully, tearing his eyes from Lucille to look at her instead. "Go on…let me at least touch her."

"N-not yet," she said quietly, not trusting him. If he used it to make any noise or to hurt himself she would be found out, people would discover what she had done.

He gave a pleading groan, his arm reaching through the bars, and it was so pitiful she couldn't even look him in the eye anymore. The harder he tried the more he weakened, and with a low groan he sank down to the floor, his arm falling limp into his lap. Blood began dripping from both nostrils, and after a few moments he pinched his nose, grimacing as he swallowed the blood pooling in the back of his throat. He was panting for breath, sitting silently for a few minutes until the bleeding stopped. Still she stood over him, holding Lucille out of reach.

"What was in the tea?" he finally asked, ready to hear his fate.

"Jimsonweed."

"You…heartless bitch," he muttered bitterly, his shoulders quaking as he looked into his lap. "Couldn't do this four fucking years ago?"

"I'm sorry," she started, her voice barely more than a whisper. She meant it, she truly did, but her apology fell on deaf ears. "I'm s-"

"Are you fucking done now?" he asked loudly, his voice strained with anger and the sting of another betrayal. "Are you finally done? Can I die in fucking peace?"

Quickly she nodded, for clearly that's what he wanted to hear. He sniffled loudly, trying to clear his throat as he wiped more blood away from his nose, and then he coughed. Carrie just stood over him, not enjoying the way he suffered, but forcing herself to observe it. She thought back to that fateful night almost five years ago, she and her whole family on their knees in that clearing, terrified for their lives. She wished she could go back in time to tell herself that one day the tables would turn, that it would be her standing over Negan and watching as he cried and suffered…but it wasn't anything like what she expected. There was no satisfaction, there was no relief…all she felt was regret for ever letting him live in the first place.

"You hated every minute of me being here…" he said lowly, his words short and abrasive. He listed his head enough to look her in the eye, staring as he smirked. "And I fucking love that…that shit tickles my balls."

She didn't rise to his anger, she didn't take it personally. How could she blame him for feeling that way? "I'm sorry for what I did. I shouldn't have let you live," she admitted heavily. "It was selfish…it punished more people than you."

He had nothing to say in return, and all he could do was rest his forehead against the steel bars as his eyes fluttered. Sitting there hunched over his head was raised only so he could see Lucille. Blood was dripping from his nose again, splattering his shirt and trousers, while his breathing remained shallow. Inside her Ally was moving around, reminding her that she was there, that she wasn't alone.

Negan had one arm slung low across his stomach, pressing tight as he grimaced in discomfort. A tremor wracked his body, making Carrie's heart pound in terror. Fear and doubt filled her now…but she had done the right thing. Not right by the communities or the treaty, but right by her children, and that was her only priority tonight. She waited a little longer, watching as Negan's body was wracked by another tremor that made him whine in the back of his throat. His eyes were looking around wildly, making her wonder if he was hallucinating already. Under his breath he was muttering something, holding his stomach tighter again as he continued looking at Lucille for as long as he could keep his eyes open.

"Give her to me," he said weakly, already reaching one hand through the bars again. "Don't make me fucking beg."

A little more confident that he wasn't strong enough to make a scene or call out for help, Carrie came closer to him, suddenly realising she too was shaking head to toe. Her cheeks were damp with tears that she didn't remember crying, and she shamefully hid her face as she reached Lucille out towards him. When he took the end of the bat in his hand he gripped it so hard his knuckles turned white, the wood clanging against the metal bars as it passed through into the cell. Like a child clutching a comforting toy he held Lucille close to him, his eyes shut and head bowed as he ran his fingers up and down the smooth wood.

"Carrie, wait…" he called to her, his voice low and strained. "Stay."

Having started to leave she stopped in her tracks, her stomach in knots. She didn't want to be here for this, none of this was about watching him suffer…but maybe that was exactly why she had to stay. Negan was here because she chose to put him here, and he was dying because she chose to give him that tea. This man had caused so much misery for them, had killed people they loved…and now she had to see this through.

Forcing herself to stay she resumed her seat on the bench and watched him. Hunched over against the bars, struggling to breathe, his body trembling as his insides writhed and cramped. He could barely open his eyes, but somehow he managed to summon the strength to get up, using Lucille to keep himself up right. With all he had he managed to get up and than stagger across the room, giving a heavy sigh as he lay down on the bed and looked at the wall, facing away from her. Laying atop his chest was Lucille, his vice grip on her never ceasing even as more tremors wracked his body, blood continuing to dramatically trickled from his nostrils.

Carrie was determined to stay for as long as she could bear it, but the sound of him shuddering and gasping for breath soon started to escalate. She felt her heart beginning to race, a surge of adrenalin and panic telling her to flee, to get the hell out of there. But just as she was beginning to rise she saw a change coming over him, his visible shudders becoming weaker, his breathing more shallow. By the time five minutes passed he was completely still, but through the dim light she couldn't quite see if his chest was moving, if he was still hanging on.

The door creaked open as Lana peered inside, surveying the scene as Carrie slowly rose to her feet. Lana was tentative as she came inside, she too trembling as much as Carrie, and she clumsily fumbled in her pocket for the cell keys. She braced before unlocking the cell and going inside, holding a knife in one hand as she gave herself a moment to get herself together. When she came to his side she placed one hand on the side of his chest, listening and feeling for the rise and fall of breaths, and then she placed two fingers on the side of his neck. The wait was excruciating, but finally she began to back away, giving Carrie a nod as she stepped out of the cell and closed it behind herself.

"You should go," Lana said shortly, heading into the bathroom where they kept some basic cleaning supplies.

That was it…he was dead.

For a few moments more Carrie lingered, still looking at Negan…she couldn't quite believe it. After all he had done to them, and after all this time as their prisoner, he was dead.

"If he turns…"

"I'll be done before that," Lana stated, sounding like that was for her benefit too. "Go, I got this."

Surveying the supplies she had at hand Carrie just nodded, confident that Lana wouldn't do this part alone if she wasn't capable. Her part was over…it was time to go, that's all there was to it.

"Thank you"

"You too."

Taking her yoga mat she went up the stairs and returned to the world above, a world that would now be free of Negan. The fresh, cool air helped settle her nerves somewhat, and thankfully it was dark enough that she could hide her reaction should anyone get a proper look at her, and with this in mind she made her way towards the yoga group, taking her rolled up mat with her. As she walked leisurely she waited for the feeling of liberation, for the weight on her shoulders to finally be gone after four years…it seemed she wasn't quite there yet.

She was able to seek refuge given the darkness, and when she joined the yoga group she rolled her mat down at the back, which no one considered unusual. This was her usual place these days, preferring to be at the back now that her belly was bigger and she was a little slower moving into different positions. While everyone continued with their workout she started her own stretches to warm up, and inside her Ally was moving around happily as if she knew what was about to happen. She seemed to approve of these yoga classes, enjoying the way Carrie moved around, the way her body stretched and contorted to make more room inside her body.

As she settled into the routine with the others she felt herself settling, calming down after what she had just done. It had been a long time since she killed a person, and just like then she now felt calm and detached. The last people she killed had been Laura and Fat Joey, her and Daryl's escape from the Sanctuary. Three Saviours in a row, four years apart. Except this time Negan was a prisoner really, and she hadn't killed him to save her life, she had _murdered_ him to keep him away from her children, to rectify her own mistake.

How long would it take for her to really be okay with that distinction?

When she returned home twenty minutes later she had been tempted to go down Negan's cell, to make sure Lana was okay with her end of the arrangement, but with so many people around she couldn't. As she passed she glanced down there, seeing only darkness. The light inside the cell was off, there was no glow stick on the steps indicating that something had gone wrong…she had done her part and gone home, having made remarkably quick work of the task. There was nothing for Carrie to worry about until tomorrow…soon it would be over.

Inside the house all was peaceful, the sound of the television luring her toward the living room where she found Rick, Henry, Carl and Enid sprawled out watching Die Hard. They were trying to make this evening special, to commemorate Henry's last night staying with them before he started the journey home to the Kingdom tomorrow morning. When he saw her arrive Rick looked up, gesturing for her to join him on the couch, but she shook her head. Instead she headed straight up stairs, trusting that he wouldn't question her early night, for after all she wasn't quite a fan of Bruce Willis.

Upstairs she checked on each of the kids, not surprised to find Judith laying in Calvin's bed with him. They were both awake and playing with hand knitted dolls Carol had given to them last Christmas, and after reminding them of the time she kissed Judith and sent her to her own bedroom.

"Mom, I can't sleep," Calvin complained, laying back on his pillow with his hands behind his head.

"You haven't even tried."

"I have," he boldly insisted. "A lot."

Looking around his bedroom she searched for something in particular, tidying up a few stray toys as she went. Finding the small music box she twisted the knob, feeling particularly nostalgic as it began to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Negan had brought this music box to Oceanside over four years ago, a gift he had either made or purchased just for her baby…Rick had no idea of its origin. Passing it to Calvin she tucked the blankets in around him, ensuring they would stay neat and orderly as he tossed around during the night, unable to stay still even as he slept.

"Can I can sleep with you tonight?"

"Not tonight," she apologised, this question having come up a lot ever since that night he and Judith spent in her bed. "Some other time."

"Oh," Calvin said in disappointment, giving a heavy sigh as he turned the knob on the music box again. "I'll just sleep in Judy's bed later."

Having suspected that would be the case she kissed Calvin on the forehead before departing, and then in Judith's room she helped her look through her collection for some music to listen to. Sticking with the favourites they decided on Shania Twain, Judith automatically switching it to her favourite song Honey I'm Home.

"Can I have a cuddle in your bed?" Carrie asked, knowing what the answer would be.

Judith looked impressed by the offer, eagerly jumping into bed and moving over to the wall so that Carrie could join her. It took a little bit of manoeuvring to get comfortable but very quickly they settled in together, facing one another as Judith started chattering away, keeping her voice low so as to not disturb Calvin next door. Enjoying the time with her mom she recited all the stories and events of that day she forgot to tell her earlier, her expression becoming puzzled when she wondered what she ought to do tomorrow before school.

As she lay in bed with her Carrie considered Judith, the child she didn't give birth to but who is her daughter all the same. As she often did at major events in Judith's life she thought about Lori, wondering if she would have done what she did tonight. Would she have ever let Negan live in the first place? It didn't matter that she didn't give birth to Judith, she was her mother and the details made no difference…but at times like this she wondered if she was actually doing a good job, if she loved her enough and was doing the right thing. Would Lori be content if she could see them now?

The minutes stretched on, Judith's voice eventually becoming softer and wearier, and as sleep approached she moved closer and cuddled up to Carrie, one arm slung over her round belly. It felt peaceful laying there with her, but still Carrie couldn't quite relax, feeling remorseful for what she had done, for setting Rick up to discover his corpse. There was no peace as far as Negan was concerned, there was no liberating feeling or weight lifted off her shoulders. He might be dead, but her mistakes of the past were not yet resolved, the wrongs not yet corrected.

Despite repeatedly telling herself to get up and go to her own bed, Carrie drifted off to sleep right there next to Judith, and when she awoke later she could feel that it was late. Feeling groggy with sleep she lifted her head and looked out the bedroom door, seeing that the house was dark but for the nightlight in the hallway. The position she was in had awoken her, her lower back and hips sore, left arm numb, and so she carefully got out of bed and returned to her feet. Her body ached as she made her way into Calvin's bedroom to check on him once more, using the adjoining bathroom on her way.

In there she looked at herself in the mirror, relieved to see that her appearance was not out of the ordinary. Any tears that had fallen were long gone, the redness of her eyes and cheeks having faded away…any lingering paranoia that her guilt was written all over her face began to recede. Yet again she wondered what was happening down in the prison cell, but surely by now Lana's work was finished and she was home with Matilda.

In the master bedroom Rick was already asleep, but he had left the light on her nightstand on for her. She changed out of her yoga clothes and into her pyjamas, wishing she could be bothered to take a quick shower, but she was too tired by now. When she rearranged her pillows and sank into bed she held her breath, always hating that he woke so easily, a trait learned from life out on the road. As she knew he would he began to rouse when he felt the mattress move, his eyes fluttering open and his head turning towards her.

He looked at her for a few moments, eyes moving up and down to gauge her pyjamas, that she was coming to bed. "I wasn't sure if I should wake you or not."

Managing a smile, for she didn't want him to feel worried about her demeanour, she just shook her head. "It's okay."

A few moments later he was drifting off again, giving her a drowsy _goodnight_ as his eyes fluttered shut. Getting comfortable she breathed a small sigh of relief, glad that he wasn't in the mood for sex despite some earlier suggestions he had made. Tonight just wasn't it for her, she simply wasn't in the mood. With the lights off she settled down amongst her pillows, hugging the pregnancy pillow to her front and waiting for the baby to settle and stop moving, but sleep did not come to her easily. Close enough to touch Rick was sleeping soundly, the occasional soft snore not bothering her tonight, instead giving her something to listen to. Tomorrow morning he would go down to bring Negan his breakfast, not knowing what he had been set up to discover.

It felt strange that she had kept this from him, that even with his unspoken blessing she went behind his back and did this. But the most uncomfortable part of keeping this from him wasn't that she was breaking the treaty, or that he was allowing her to…it was that she kept it from him because she knew he would talk her out of it if given the chance. Letting Negan live had been wrong of her, but it was a reality they had committed to. Just because it was easy to go back on her word, regardless of her justification, that didn't make it the right thing to do…Rick would have told her that.

Two wrongs did not make a right.

* * *

A/N I'm not sure if it was properly communicated (given how I should have spent more time on this chapter) but Negan absolutely suspected that Carrie was there to hurt him, and that there was nothing she could do to force him to drink the tea. He only actually drank the tea when she confirmed that she wasn't letting the kids come back, that he was going back to the days of complete isolation and was losing that connection to kids he genuinely liked.

For me the epilogue chapters are about following the TV show but keeping my spin on it, and also acknowledging that not everything was going to be perfect after the war. Before the war was over they used to idealise the future, thinking that it would be perfect in all ways - I like that it wasn't, but that it was enough to start living again.

If I were to write the next story (which I cannot, I'm sorry!) there would be more bumps and humps down the road, their future would never be the perfect idealised fantasy. They would still be trying to survive, trying to live, but it would be enough for these characters to have peace and happiness.

I hope that's what we can take not only from this story and the epilogue, but that we as readers can foresee this as their future, even though I'm not writing it in a story.

Two more chapters to go, and I love the finish (if I don't say so myself). Please leave a review, and thank you for the awesome reviews on last few chapters!


	83. Chapter 83

Sunday, December 4

That Sunday morning Rick couldn't help but oversleep, missing his opportunity to do the rounds of Alexandria. Today was the perfect morning for a lie in, Rick all too comfortable with Carrie's ass pressed against his lap. But instead he was shaken awake by Judith who looked at him in confusion, not understanding why he wasn't awake for his chores. She was fully dressed and ready to go, frosting and crumbs on her face indicating she'd helped herself to a cookie for breakfast. He tried sending her away, suggesting she go downstairs to watch television and eat more cookies, for it wasn't even technically their shift to milk the cows. But she had been persistent, using his own words against him with the reminder that they had responsibilities.

The weather that day was cold and bleak, but nevertheless they made their way out to the cattle to help with the work, and by the time returned the house was alive with family life. Carl and Enid were rushing out the door, both of them late for their shifts on watch, while Henry was hastily eating breakfast before rushing downstairs to finish packing his things. He would be returning home to the Kingdom today, accompanied by Michonne and Eugene who would escort him to the halfway point where Carol would be waiting.

"Good morning," Rick said as he came in, heading straight for Carrie. She and Calvin were sitting at the counter eating breakfast, and before he passed her by he stopped to kiss the side of her neck, making sure she knew how he had missed her.

"Morning," she replied, pointing Judith towards the plate of breakfast waiting for her. "I was hoping you'd have a sleep in."

"So did I," he apologised, refilling her mug of tea before taking his own plate of food.

Staying in bed would have been a good opportunity to break the dry recent dry spell that happened in all marriages from time to time, but that didn't mean the opportunity was lost entirely. Unlike other days he didn't hasten downstairs to deliver Negan's breakfast, instead happy to linger with his family for a long breakfast. As they ate he gave Carrie a friendly smile, wondering if she might be agreeable to making some plans.

"How are your hips feeling?" he enquired, this usually being one of the major stopping points for them. When he asked this question he gave her a smile that was a little more than just friendly.

"They're fine," she assured him, catching on to his intentions. "Yoga last night was good."

"Then maybe we could schedule in a nooner."

"What's that?" Calvin asked loudly, looking up from his breakfast. "Can I have one?"

"It's a chore," Carrie promptly answered. "You wouldn't like it."

As expected, Calvin's expression fell as he quickly turned back to his breakfast. "I don't want a chore to do."

Rick just looked at her in dismay. "A chore. Really?"

"Don't take it personally."

"Well, have to take advantage of our chores while we can," he pressed, trying to gauge her interest. "We could even do a chore somewhere…different."

At this she quirked her eyebrow, but he could see the hint of a smile in her eyes. "You got something in mind?

"It's been a while since we cut any wood."

Finally Carrie properly smiled, apparently approving of this suggestion. He vividly recalled the last time they cut wood together, the two of them hiding out in the darkest corner of the wood shed while he took her from behind, both more exhilarated by the location than by the sex itself. That was back when they were still trying to fall pregnant with Ally, when they had to spice things up before they got tired of each other.

"Okay, we'll cut some wood today," she agreed, looking back to her breakfast as she continued eating. "But this time you need to check for spiders first."

Happy to take that precaution, for it was easy to lose rhythm when spiders were crawling out of every nook and cranny, Rick hastened to get on with the morning. When the kids finished their breakfast he helped them stack their plates into the dishwasher and then clapped his hands at them, sending them upstairs. "Get your nice clothes on, we're going to church today."

"What?" Carrie protested, as did the kids. "Why?"

"Because some of us need to go to church," he teased, coming around the counter to where she was sitting. He put his hand on the centre of her back, letting it move down to the swell of her ass. "And then we can send the kids to Sunday School while we cut some wood."

Catching on Carrie nodded in agreement. "Kids, church clothes!" she instructed, hustling them to get moving.

Despite her instructions she made no move to get up and dress for church too, instead remaining where she sat and finishing the rest of her tea. Trying to make quick work of the task, for no doubt the kids would have to be sent back to change their clothes a second time, Rick hastily prepared a plate of food for Negan, wondering if he was still on the hunger strike today. He didn't waste anything good on him, simply cooking him a piece of toast with peanut butter and half an apple, a generous breakfast for someone who more deserved a kick in the face.

"Come here," Carrie said, interrupting him as he prepared to leave.

She reached for him, one hand stroking the side of his face as she pulled him down for a kiss. It wasn't sensual or overly passionate, just the innocent touch of their lips. But she didn't immediately let him go, instead kissing him again and letting his forehead rest against hers.

"I love you."

Returning the sentiment he kissed her on the cheek before he left, wondering if she was feeling the stress of the pregnancy again. But perhaps not, for she usually withdrew from physical contact when she was feeling stressed, so perhaps it was something else on her mind. Carl and Enid's engagement was still warming their hearts, a joy that wouldn't pass any time soon.

Sitting outside the gate leading down to the prison cell was Dog, and he whined anxiously as Rick approached.

"Hey boy," he said, letting Dog sniff the back of his hand. Dog barked at him, getting to his feet and whining again, his tail between his legs. "Did Daryl send you here? You keeping the kids away?"

Slipping past him he opened the gate and went down, seeing Negan's silhouette through the window, pleased to note he was already awake to greet the day. Over the last month he had become intolerable, and given he had nothing to entertain himself with he was even more talkative every time Rick came to visit him. It was driving him spare, so much so that he had started delegating more responsibilities to Daryl and Michonne just to get a break from the damn man. Between his attempts at self harm and his recent hunger strike Rick had just about had enough. Lately he was simply delivering the food and then leaving, no longer stopping to talk a while. Human company was a privilege Negan would have to earn back.

Dog barked at him as he went down the steps, and when he bit at the heel of his boots Rick scolded him, using his foot to push him away. "Go home!" he said loudly, clicking his fingers like Daryl would. "Go!"

Turning in circles Dog only barked at him again, whining with his tail between his legs and then trying to slip past him through the door. Struggling to keep the animal at bay Negan's toast and slice of apple fell off the plate and onto the concrete step, and so he went to the minimum effort of cleaning off the debris before returning it to the plate. Angry with Dog now he grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him away from the door, annoyed with his disobedience. Daryl was most definitely his master, but up until now Dog had always been obedient for others deemed worthy of his approval, Rick included. Still Dog tried to stop him going in, scratching at the door and barking after he managed to get through and close it.

"I don't know how, but you've even managed to piss off the canines aro…"

Rick's words trailed off, startled by the way Negan lunged at the prison bars. It had been quite some time since he had shown aggression to his captors, but his momentary scare faded into the cold numbness of shock the longer he looked at him. Instead of the usual snarky comment he was met with the blank stare of a Walker, the bared teeth of an open mouth snarl. His hands were reaching through the bars for him, fingers clawing at thin air.

Negan was dead…turned.

For a few moments Rick just stood there in bewilderment, staring at Negan whose eyes were wild with desire, mouth snarling and dripping with infectious saliva. It could have been ten seconds or a minute, but some time passed before Rick started looking around, trying to explain to himself what had happened here. It didn't quite add up in his mind that Negan was dead, that he actually was _dead_. Setting down the plate of toast he came closer to the prison cell, peering past Negan to look inside.

The bed linen was askew and the pillow on the floor, but other than that nothing was amiss, the cell empty but for the bucket, toilet roll and paperback novel. Trying to understand he studied Negan closely, looking for signs of self harm or injuries that had befallen him, but he was met with nothing but unanswered questions. There was no blood, his clothing neat and clean, no injuries…yet, he was dead.

"Oh, Christ," he muttered, realisation slowly dawning. Carrie did this…she understood what he had been trying to tell her last month. Rick's hands were tied by the treaty, there was nothing he could do to harm Negan…but that didn't mean she couldn't do something.

Collecting his thoughts he slapped Negan's hands aside, coming forward and swiftly plunging his knife up and under his jaw. In an instant Negan's snarls fell silent, his wild eyes becoming still as his features relaxed. For a few moments Rick held the knife there, trembling as he supported Negan's dead weight. When his weight became too much to hold he withdrew the knife and let Negan fall, the sound of his body hitting the floor bringing with it an enormous sense of finality.

A few more moments passed as Rick stood there in silence, looking at Negan's corpse from the corner of his eye. He couldn't quite believe it, but as he stood there looking at him he was suddenly overcome with a surge of undeniable grief. His throat tightened painfully, chest aching as he slowly lowered himself into crouch in order to see Negan more closely. Even in death his eyes remained open, as equally devoid of life and kindness as when he was alive. _Is this real?_ he asked himself. _Is this really over?_

In the privacy of the cell he allowed himself a small moment of grief, his eyes welling up around a sob he didn't stifle. For four and a half years he had been holding back the grief that followed the war, because for some it hadn't really ended. It had been such a long time ago, by now so many people had moved on with their lives, himself included, but a part of him was always stuck in limbo. Negan was tethering him to the past, unfinished business that wouldn't allow him to meaningfully move on. He could grow Alexandria, could sign treaties and make trade deals, become a father again…but he couldn't move on from the war while he literally had the war right next door.

The grief he felt for Glenn was of no surprise to him, his loss in particular something he understood that he would never really get over. But as his thoughts aligned he found himself startled by a sense of loss for someone he hadn't expected...Negan. Four years this had been his life, keeping Negan as his prisoner, looking after his needs, talking to him. That was over now, with little warning. It was done.

Collecting himself Rick stood up now, clearing his throat and wiping the tears from his eyes. Trying to be thorough he opened the cell and entered, taking another look around to ensure he hadn't missed anything. Ignoring the ache in his left flank he seized Negan's clothing and rolled him over, patting him down for injuries or evidence, looking for anything that could implicate Carrie or malfeasance. But there was nothing, no evidence either on him or in the cell…he was simply dead, gone in the middle of the night.

After four years he ought to be relieved that this was finally over now, that Negan was gone and the responsibility with him, but it never was really that simple for him. Negan was an ever present part of life these days, something reliable that never changed and only sometimes gave him trouble. But it was over now, and with it so too was the war.

It had only taken more than four years.

* * *

The church was abuzz with low murmurs of interest, no one yet aware of why the meeting had been called. The entire community was there, even the people normally on watch, and these days that meant the church was filled to the brim, people squashed into the pews, sitting in the aisles and standing at the back. A few years ago they would have been lucky to fill the first few pews with people, and these days they were bursting at the seams.

"Hey First Lady," someone hissed, tapping her on the shoulder. "What's goin' on, huh?"

On the inside Carrie cringed, having never felt she had earned the title First Lady. She turned around to see Gloria, the woman's lined face bearing witness to her many years, her many horrors. She and Amber were sitting side by side, Amber looking particularly frazzled and annoyed that she had to come to the meeting. Life with newborn twins wasn't easy, even in Alexandria where new mothers didn't have to do day to day things like their usual work around the community. Poor Amber was sleep deprived but still high with love, a state of mind Carrie understood well, one she would soon be returning to.

"I don't know," she apologised. "It's pr-"

"Come on," Amber implored, sounding impatient. In her arms she was wrangling Alistair to her breast, the fussy newborn making it difficult for her. "Can you at least tell me if I have to be here?"

Carrie nodded, remembering all too clearly the days of Amber being Negan's wife, leaving her husband and mother in order to provide for all of them. "You need to be here. Stay."

Trying to avoid further questions she abruptly turned around, sharing a brief glance with Lana who sat beside her. They hadn't spoken about what they did, but Lana's silence on the matter indicated that everything had gone according to plan, and Rick's sudden call for a community meeting confirmed this.

She had been waiting on tenterhooks all morning, but there was nothing she could do but wait. She couldn't go down there, not in broad daylight. When she awoke alone that morning she hoped Rick had gone down there already, that any minute now he would come home with the grim news on the tip of his tongue, but he had gone out to work with the livestock. When he returned he came straight home, delaying his morning visit to Negan even longer.

She felt just awful for the way he was going about his morning completely unaware of what he was about to walk into, ignorantly making plans to spend time with her, to get them some privacy. When he eventually departed she briefly stopped him, feeling bad for what he was about to walk in to. She wanted her kiss to tell him how sorry she was for ever doing this to them, for forcing his hand four years ago, for resenting him moving them here…and she wanted him to feel hope too. Once this all blew over it would be another new beginning for them, the true end of the war at least in their minds.

But he hadn't returned after giving Negan his breakfast, only drawing out the tension even longer. Forced to maintain a poker face she dressed the kids and went to church as planned, and there he had joined her without so much as a word about Negan. They sat together in the pew with the kids between them, and though he didn't say a word about it the look on his face told her everything, that he had found him dead, that it was over. It was difficult to describe how he seemed, whether it was relief or something else she could see in his eyes…dare she say, sadness?

Judging by the number of people attending church that week the word had gone out about a community meeting, and mercifully Gabriel's sermon was short. After he finished Rick left the pew and disappeared for a few minutes, meanwhile more people arrived in the church, people shuffling further in to make room for them. Meanwhile the kids were taken out to their little classroom, attending the usual session of Sunday School in the annex where they were presenting watching a religious cartoon on the television.

Conversation began to fade as Rick made his way up the front, and the other members of the council Michonne, Gabriel, Aaron, Saddiq and Nora joined him, most likely having been informed already. A few curious murmurs lingered as Rick stood before them, not taking Gabriel's podium and instead addressing them informally, not hiding himself. As Gabriel called for quiet Rick looked out into the church and caught her eye, and surely he had to know who was responsible for the news he was about to deliver. Resting her hands on the swell of her belly she gave him a small nod, hoping to offer some reassurance, encouragement.

"There's something I must tell you all," he began, his voice low and steady. "Sometime during last night, Negan died in his prison cell."

The announcement was met with immediate murmurs of shock, a swell of conversation breaking out at the same time as a burst of applause. Many were still bitter and hurt from the way, those among them who Carrie knew would welcome Negan's death...a month ago she would have been one of them, but today her feelings on the matter were rather more muted. Others present were more dismayed, some sitting forward with their head in their hands. Carrie was not naive, she didn't believe those people are genuinely upset about Negan's death, but about what it might mean for the community, for the treaty.

"I found him this morning after he had turned, and I immediately put him down and called for Saddiq," Rick continued. "I don't know how he died."

"There has to be some kind of explanation?" someone said expectantly, standing up in their pew at the back.

Having expected this question Rick acknowledged it, and then he gestured for Saddiq to come forward. Looking a little nervous to be addressing the whole community Saddiq was clutching a small manilla folder, the medical records he kept for each of his patients. As he prepared to speak Carrie sent up a silent prayer, hoping that he understood what was at stake here, that Alexandria needed to be above suspicion of wrong doing.

"When I arrived this morning, well…" he started nervously, clearing his throat and collecting his thoughts. "Negan was deceased. He had already turned, there was nothing we could do for him."

"How did he die?" Mark asked now, standing at the very back.

Saddiq cleared his throat again, finding his stride as he resumed speaking. "It's difficult to say with certainty. Negan's been not well for a while now. He was in his fifties, had high blood pressure, a family history of stroke and heart disease. There were no injuries, no signs of illness or infection…I'm confident a heart attack is the most likely explanation." He paused now, letting this sink in. "Even with medical intervention, there would have been nothing I could do."

There came a heavy silence now, and Carrie nervously turned around and looked at the rest of the community, trying to gauge their sentiment. Everyone seemed to be in various states of shock and relief, no one really quite knowing what to say. She could feel everyone looking at her, maybe wondering if she and Rick had something to do with this, but at the same time she could see them all looking at each other too. It was a reasonable suspicion that she and Rick might have come to wish Negan dead, but they weren't the only ones in Alexandria who would have motive.

Besides, even if they could prove someone in Alexandria guilty…was anyone outraged enough to do something about it?

"What happens now?" someone else asked, raising their hand. "What does this mean for the treaty?"

"We have to inform the other communities about his death," Aaron said heavily, coming forward again. "Michonne and Eugene will see Carol today, they'll give her the news to convey to the Kingdom."

"In a few hours I'll leave for the Hilltop," Rick added, this being news to Carrie. As he said this he glanced at her, looking apologetic. "Carl and Enid will go on to Oceanside from there."

In the pew behind her Amber slowly rose to her feet and cleared her throat, looking a little shaky as she cradled Alistair. "I think Negan might have been Jewish…he should be buried, soon. Not cremated."

This question stirred up a murmur of conversation, people eager to voice their own opinion as to what should happen. A few people called out suggestions, arguing he was an atheist and should be cremated, others stating he should be strung up outside Alexandria's walls, a lasting warning to all others who might dare to cross Alexandria. Though many liked this particular suggestion it was of little use if he had been put down already…he'd just stink the place up worse than a Walker, his body decaying at a faster rate.

"I am taking his body with me to the Hilltop," Rick announced, raising a hand to silence everyone. He said these words as a statement, making it clear he wasn't asking for anyone's approval or agreement. "People there will want to see for themselves that he's dead. After that he'll be buried, and no…I will not disclose where. His grave is not to become a site of mourning or hostility."

The disapproval from those present was evident, but it was clear Rick and the council were not asking for approval, that this was a decision already made. It was a wise decision Carrie felt, that it was best no one knew where Negan had been buried, that he was simply gone.

"Let me be clear," Rick continued, maintaining everyone's rapt attention. "Negan died in his cell, probably in considerable pain…and he was alone. He did not die a hero or a leader, he was a prisoner serving time for his crimes. His death changes nothing, nor does it mean that anyone is allowed to return to the Sanctuary to rebuild. The war is over."

The community sat in absolute silence as Rick gave this statement, no one really knowing what to say. Negan had been a thorn in everyone's side, but one that had adapted to, one that everyone understood was a necessary concession for their future. His imprisonment was his punishment, deterrence for anyone else who even considered an uprising of the Saviours. As everyone considered the implications for their future a few more people asked questions, and then without being dismissed people began to leave. They filed out with low murmurs, people heading home or to their jobs as they talked quietly amongst themselves, and it was clear gossip was springing up already. People looked around in suspicion, casting their eyes over Rick, Carrie, Daryl and Lana, conscious of the recent drama that unfolded with Negan and their children.

Thirty minutes later everything seemed to have settled, bringing them all to the next unfortunate task at hand. Loaded in the horse drawn cart was some overnight packs, food, water and supplies for the journey, and Negan's body. Carrie could see him there, wrapped in a white sheet tied at the head and foot, afforded dignity in death. She made an effort to keep her face impassive, but she resented every kindness afforded to him, every death rite that had been observed. But just as the resentment began to stew she forcibly talked herself down, knowing that she needed to change. The last four years had been spent resenting Negan, regretting her decision to let him live. Now he was dead, and it was time to let that go…to let _him_ go.

By her side Calvin was sniffling miserably, having only just figured out how many of his loved ones were going. It had been bad enough when Henry left a little while ago, his favourite in the household, but now Carl, Enid and Rick were going too. Judith was crying also, the two siblings holding hands as they watched the cart being loaded up and the horses checked. Carrie didn't like it either, but their journey away from home was an absolute necessity. Maggie deserved to hear of Negan's death directly from Rick, not anyone else.

"That's enough you misery guts," Rick said lightheartedly, coming over to the kids. He started with Judith first, giving her a kiss and hug before speaking with her quietly, offering some reassurance. Next he turned to Calvin and consoled him, and she could hear him telling him to be a good boy, to help Carrie out and do as he was told. A few moments later his sniffles turned to miserable hiccups, but as Rick whispered something into his ear a smile grew on his face, though only briefly.

Wondering if Judith had heard it too Carrie looked down at her, her heart leaping into her throat when she saw her studying the cart, looking at Negan's body. They haven't told the kids anything about his death, not entirely sure how to explain it to them. But thankfully Judith didn't question whatever she could see in the cart, likely not understanding what was wrapped in the white sheet. She couldn't know that she was looking at the corpse of someone who befriended her, someone she had cried herself to sleep over.

They were taking Carl and Enid's usual horse and cart, but also a third horse that Rick would ride, allowing him to come home in a few days while they headed onward to Oceanside. All in all Rick's trip should take no more than two days in total, but Carrie had her suspicions that he would also make the longer journey to Oceanside. Natania and her people also deserved to hear this news directly from him, which would make his journey at least a week. She ought to be used to him going away, he used to make trips all the time and she also made the occasional supply and trade run before falling pregnant. But since his accident he had slowed down, and he had been home full time for the last few months helping her out, trying to ease the load while she was pregnant. She thought she would have him a few more months, she hadn't been prepared to say goodbye so soon.

"Don't go stir crazy," Rick said as he turned to her, his tone of voice apologetic for his departure. "Make sure you get out of the house."

She nodded for his benefit. "Don't go for too long," she requested, bringing his hand to the side of her belly. They had four weeks to go, but it really wasn't up to them when Ally was born.

"I won't," he assured her, kissing her on the cheek.

Following his gesture she and Rick moved a few yards away to have some privacy, leaving the kids to be consoled by the others who were also down there farewelling their people. No one gave them a second glance as they stepped away, allowing them the privacy they needed to speak candidly. After the church meeting there hadn't been much opportunity, Rick making arrangements with the community to cover his absence while Carrie was hastily packing him some clothes and a toothbrush. After that it was a matter of delivering the news to the kids, and that in itself had been an ordeal.

They lingered together a few moments, Rick casting his eyes out over the people nearby. "How did you do it?"

She didn't need to clarify his question, but she was glad to hear the relief in his voice. "Jimsonweed. I brought it to him last night. Lana went out to get it for me."

Understanding, he gave a short nod before casting his eyes around, glancing at Lana who was manning the gate. "Did Daryl know?"

"No. You both needed plausible deniability."

"Thank you," he murmured, gripping her hand tightly.

He moved in to kiss her, to run his hand through her hair, but she pulled away and stopped him. Her recoiling perturbed him, making him look at her in concern, and so she hastened to properly explain.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. She took a slow breath, putting her hand on his chest as if she needed to steady herself. "That day at Oceanside I saved him because I wanted him to suffer. It was selfish of me…I didn't consider what anyone else needed. I'm sorry."

"I wanted him to suffer too," he confessed, placing his hand over hers. "I liked seeing him down there." He paused now and looked away, dwelling on his thoughts. "I liked how much he wanted to see you."

Feeling like she understood, Carrie waited until he looked back at her and then held his gaze. "It wasn't me he wanted, it was _us_ ," she emphasised, gesturing to the two of them. "He wanted our life, our family. It's why he kept asking to see me, why he reached out to the kids…why he got so angry when we took them away."

Rick nodded slowly, looking away again. His brow furrowed as he looked towards the cart, able to see Negan's feet hanging over the edge. "Maybe we did the right thing. We punished him, he suffered down there…but he was stopped before he could hurt anyone else."

"But?" she asked, getting the feeling there was one coming.

He paused, looking at her as if reconsidering what he was going to say "What was done last night...that kind of life needs to be behind us."

"It has been for four years."

"And yet it happened again. That's on me too, I wasn't oblivious to what you wanted to do...but we can't go back to that life."

She nodded, agreeing. "Will you tell Maggie the truth about what I did?"

"I don't know. Maybe in time."

"Tell her I'm sorry," she asked next, emphasising the importance of this. "Tell her I'm going to ask for her forgiveness as soon as I can get to Hilltop."

At this he shifted uncomfortably, knowing it would be quite some time before she was ready to travel to Hilltop. "I'll tell her. Who knows…maybe she'll finally come to Alexandria."

"Maybe," she agreed, trying not to hold out hope. Maggie had always welcomed them at Hilltop, but Carrie just didn't get the feeling they could ever go back to the way things were before. She cleared her throat and looked at the time, knowing there was a long journey to be had. "You should go, I don't want you three on the road after dark."

In agreement he nodded, but he still lingered a little longer. They shared a kiss now, not one of farewell but rather _see you soon_. Despite his departure and the dark cloud of sadness creeping overhead she felt okay, knowing that this was another fresh start for everyone. The world and life they built together wasn't perfect, but it was damn near close…in time things would go back to normal, their life going on as if this had never happened, just a little bump in the road.

Nearby the kids were no longer wallowing in misery but rather roughhousing on the grass, Calvin and Judith wrestling while Matilda laughed and encouraged them. Completely forgetting about Rick's departure they were happily playing, Judith feigning injury and then tackling Calvin to the ground when he stopped to see if she was alright. Their nice church clothes were in disarray, stained with grass that would be a pain to remove, but Carrie didn't mind, glad that they were no longer upset. Delaying even longer Rick went marching over, growling and laughing as he picked up Calvin and hauled him over his shoulder, blowing a raspberry on his lower back while Judith lunged at his knees, trying to bring him down.

As they played together Carrie turned her attention to Carl and Enid, farewelling them and asking them to be safe, confident that her words alone would keep them from harm. Before letting them get into the cart she stopped to admire Enid's engagement ring again, the ring Glenn had given Maggie all those years ago. It belonged to them now, the start of what they hoped would be a long marriage and life together.

"Please, look after your dad," she asked, hugging Carl tightly. "And look after yourselves too, okay?"

"We got this," Carl assured her, giving her a familial kiss on the cheek before making her release him. "I know the roads so well I could ride with just one eye."

Not amused by his attempt at humour she wrenched him back into one more hug, forcibly holding her emotions at bay even as they welled up inside her. She couldn't help but by struck by how much Carl had grown, still sometimes seeing him as the fourteen year old she had met so many years ago, the child who offered her a toothbrush and comb the day they collected her from the side of the road.

"We're so happy for you and Enid, we really are. We love you."

"I know, I know," he assured her, allowing her to hold him until she was ready to let go. "I'll look after Dad, I promise."

"Thanks."

Before she was really ready for it all three of them were leaving, Rick giving her another quick kiss before mounting his horse. He looked confident and comfortable up there, making it seem like it hadn't been months since his last journey away from home, and it was this that instilled more confidence inside her. The kids stood either side of her now, both of them much more cheerful than they had been earlier when they first broke the news. Without further delay the gate was opened and they started on their journey, and unable to help herself Carrie stood in the threshold and watched them go. As Lana began to close the gate she turned her last moments of attention to Negan's body in the back of the cart, the bundle of white that was growing smaller and smaller. She couldn't quite comprehend that he was gone now, that if she were to go back down into the basement the cell would be unoccupied and the door wide open.

"Mom," Calvin said urgently, grabbing at her hand. "Mom, I have to tell you a secret."

The gate closed with a heavy sense of finality, Lana giving her an apologetic look as she safely secured the latch. As Calvin called for her attention again she took a moment to clear her throat and collect herself, blinking away the tears that had started burning in her eyes.

"Yes?" she said to Calvin, speaking again when she came across a bit sharp. "What is it?"

Coaxing her to crouch down, Calvin was beaming as he stood on his tip toes and whispered into her ear. "Dad told me where he's going."

"Where?"

Judith hastened over now, she too beaming in delight. "He's going to see Santa," she whispered excitedly. "He's giving him our Christmas letters!"

"He's seeing Santa!" Calvin repeated, his eyes wide in wonder.

"Woah, lucky Dad," she said, her heart aching with joy as she learned what he had told the kids to make them smile.

"He's going to be really cold," Calvin said seriously, taking her hand when she straightened up. "It snows at the North Pole."

"Was he wearing his coat?" Judith asked anxiously, taking Calvin's other hand.

"Daddy's going to be fine," she assured them both, ushering them to start heading home. "If we're lucky it might snow here soon. That would be fun."

Readily agreeing with that, for they had been disappointed by no snow last Christmas, the two kids raced off ahead, continuing to hold hands as they began skipping cheerfully. They quickly joined Matilda and lured her away from Lana, leaving them both with little choice other than to follow them. With Negan gone there was no harm in them being allowed to explore the community unsupervised, but that independence was still a privilege they would have to earn back from their parents.

Falling into step alongside one another, she and Lana followed the kids around to the playground. Though they appeared relaxed and comfortable they shared very little conversation, not at all discussing even a whisper what they had done. For them right now this was just any other day, and the upheaval of Negan's death would soon come to pass.

With enough time this would all fade into the background, another element of their past that needed to be overcome and ultimately forgotten.

* * *

A/N Sorry for the delay, I'm travelling abroad at the moment! Hope you enjoyed the wrap up of this arc, final final final chapter is coming by the end of the week. Thanks again so much for your reviews, they really mean so much!


	84. Chapter 84

A/N

3 stories. 187 chapters. 1,385 reviews. 1,826,009 words.

Writing these stories for Carrie and Rick has been a highly rewarding labour of love, and I'm so very grateful for the 1,385 reviews I've received at the time of posting this final chapter, Chapter 84.

Your reviews are what kept me posting these chapter after chapter instead of keeping Rick and Carrie in my head, so thank you for being such a rewarding part of this experience.

* * *

6 months later

Friday, 30 June

Setting the baby monitor down by the door Carrie made her way upstairs, relieved to be ticking something else off her list of things to do, the afternoon naps. Her mind was busy keeping track of what was up next, who needed her where and what supplies were ready for distribution. Alexandria had undertaken a mammoth task, one they had underestimated, but when it was done it would be all so worth it.

As she entered her bedroom she caught a glimpse of a child disappearing out of sight, and her hackles were immediately raised. "Calvin Daryl Grimes," she started, her voice low with the tone of threat.

She was met with no response, but she could hear him shuffling to hide underneath the bed, knowing he was in trouble. Sucking on her toes in the crib was Ally, cheerfully greeting her mom with a smile. As the sunlight shone through the open window Carrie took a moment to admire her little girl, one whose appearance had earned her the nickname Cherub. Her white blonde hair was an array of curls, her sweet rosy cheeks and chubby thighs completing a package that melted even the coldest of hearts.

Instead of going straight to Ally she tiptoed her way through the bedroom, one that was presently crammed with two children's sleeping bags on the floor and an array of their clothing and belongings. Crouching down beneath her bed she reached under and seized the two little feet, hauling her son out from underneath.

"Calvin, what have I told you?" she scolded him, making him stand up. "Stop getting in the crib with her!"

His mouth and eyes widened comically, looking between her and his sister. "I didn't! I swear I didn't, we were just playing."

"In the crib?"

"No, I swear."

When he extended his pinky finger she narrowed her eyes at him, looking for evidence of a white lie, because his face gave him away every time he tried to get something past her. At first it had been cute to find Calvin had climbed into the crib to be with his little sister, adoring her so much he just wanted to be with her every minute of the day. But fearful that he might accidentally hurt her they had to put a stop to it. Now the problem wasn't so much keeping him out of the crib, but keeping him from waking her up as she slept.

"You were meant to be having your nap too," she reminded him sternly, gesturing to his sleeping bag. "Did you wake your sister up?"

He shook his head, looking her in the eye. "She woke me up. She needed me to play with her."

She held his gaze a moment longer, but Ally ruined the suspense by loudly blubbering at them. Carrie turned to her now, satisfied that she looked well rested and happy. If she had been woken prematurely she would have cried the house down, the whole of Alexandria would have known about it.

"Get me a diaper," she instructed, playfully spanking Calvin's butt until he laughed and squealed.

"A poopy diaper?"

"A clean diaper!"

"No, a poopy diaper!" he insisted, rushing to the crib and pulling faces at his little sister. Lapping up the attention Ally reached through the bars and blubbered at him again.

With little help from Calvin she quickly set about freshening Ally up after her nap, finding some lightweight clothes for her to wear in the warm weather. She neatened her fine blonde hair and then put an elastic band on her head, wanting her to look particularly cute today.

"Mom, are they here yet?"

"Do you see any horse and carts at the gate?"

Heading over to the rear window he looked out, giving a sigh of disappointment. "When are they going to get here?"

"They'll get here when they get here," she said patiently, she too sharing his excitement.

"Tilly's coming home, right?"

"Yes," Carrie said in exasperation, having answered this question no less than three times every day for the last week. "Tilly is coming home, I promise."

Taking out her trusty wrap she entwined it around herself and then reached for Ally, knowing she needed her hands free today. The moment she picked her up Ally was grabbing at her shirt, mouth wide open with a devilish growl that said _feed_ _me_ _now_ , _or_ _you'll_ _regret_ _it_. Normally she would sit down and rest while Ally nursed, she'd get a better let down if she was relaxed, but today she was too busy. Settling her into the wrap Ally started eagerly wriggling around, dribbling spit and blubbering until she started nursing, and then for once she was quiet. Glad to tick off these things from her list she ushered Calvin to find his shoes and a hat, needing to get back out there and keep going.

"Mom, who's sleeping in my bed tonight?"

"Your Aunt Maggie and Herschel."

"And Judy's bed?"

"Aunt Tara."

"Mom?" he asked again, following her downstairs. "Where's Aunty Carol sleeping?"

Praying for patience she answered yet another question. "At Lana and Daryl's house."

At this answer he rushed in front of her, looking worried. "What about Henry?" he asked anxiously. "Where's Henry sleeping?"

"Good Lord," she muttered, opening the front door and hurrying him out. "Henry's sleeping in his room like he always does."

"Is he having a proper visit again? A whole month?"

"Yes," she assured him. "Now come on, we've got work to do."

The wedding of the century was tomorrow, and there was much work for them to do.

There had been weddings in Alexandria over the past years, they were always a cause for celebration, but there was a different atmosphere about Carl and Enid's wedding. People were coming from every single community to be present, a celebration unlike anything seen before, and it came with an enormous amount of work. It had started as a running joke, but lately it really did feel like they were preparing for a royal wedding, like it was Prince William and Kate Middleton getting married at Westminster Abbey, not Carl and Enid getting hitched in the local church.

Alexandria's gardens and homes had been manicured and maintained with great precision, the grass trimmed and weeds pulled, the flowers in full bloom. By the church were a dozen people getting ready to erect an enormous tent, a necessary addition to provide refuge from the sun for the wedding celebrations that would last the whole afternoon and into the night. The canvas was spread out on the ground, everyone sorting through the metal poles while Eugene marched around giving orders. Judith was out there too following his every move, Eugene being her new favourite grown up now that he started letting her compete in the Junior Mario Kart tournament.

Seeking out Rick she made her way over to him, rather endeared by his sweaty and dishevelled appearance. He had been out since the crack of dawn taking care of not only the usual work to be completed, but helping oversee work on Carl and Enid's new home. It was mostly still a construction site and the upper floor was barely weather tight, but they were determined to move in on their wedding day, even if they did have to put their bed in the future dining room. Despite its incomplete state they had the bare necessities to make it habitable, a bed and curtains, these features particularly important for a newly married couple.

"Hey," she greeted him, passing him her bottle of water so he could take a drink. "Can you take Calvin? He's suddenly worried about where everyone's going to sleep, and Mommy's had enough."

Rick just laughed as he took a sip of water, knowing that his endless questions drove her crazy. "I wonder where he got that worry from?" he questioned, for it had been Carrie who worried and meticulously planned how to accomodate so many people without making them sleep in tents. "Want me to take Ally too?"

She shook her head, taking the water back. "Unless you've started lactating, she's not interested."

"Come here," he said, waving Calvin over to join him. "Come help your old man for a while."

"What are you doing?" Calvin asked, using his boot to nudge the canvas material on the ground.

"What does it look like we're doing?" Rick countered, challenging him to actually look.

Annoyed that he had to figure it out himself, Calvin took a moment to look around, and Carrie could practically see the wheels turning in his head. "Is it the tent?"

"That's right," Rick praised, rustling his head before passing him a long metal rod. "Give this to Eugene. Tell him I said to stick it somewhere."

"Where?"

"He'll know. Just tell him I said to _stick_ _it_ _somewhere_."

As Calvin strolled off to do as requested Carrie slipped her arm around Rick's waist, coaxing a kiss out of him. "You're naughty," she scolded, knowing exactly what he was saying to Eugene.

"He hasn't threatened to fire anyone for nearly an hour. This gives him cause."

Giving him another kiss she reached up and brushed her hand over his curls, a feature he passed on to Ally. "Carol's giving you a haircut tonight," she reminded him. "You're not looking like a Woolly Mammoth at our son's wedding." As she walked away she made a point of tapping him on the ass, unable to help herself. They'd been in bit of a dry spell right now, their children, preparations for the wedding and Carl and Enid's new house leaving them exhausted most of the time.

"Don't start something you can't finish," Rick called out to her as she walked away, reminding her they had the kids sleeping in their room for the next few nights.

Suspecting he was still watching her she walked with a little extra swing in her step, moving her hips in a way that never failed to make him look twice. When she glanced over her shoulder he was indeed looking, his gaze rather appreciative of the summer shorts she was wearing. Though she hadn't been holding herself to any particular criteria, recovering after Ally's birth had been a slow process, her tummy still soft and her hips and legs rounder than before. In preparing for the wedding she had dug out some of her old clothes from the back of the closet, forced to admit that she was never going to squeeze into the pencil skirt she first wore to her welcome party over six years ago.

Chatting to Ally who continued nursing ravenously she made her way down to the south gate, checking in with the person on watch there. They were expecting the first arrivals to be here any minute now, and their delay was making her feel anxious. There were any number of things that could have held them up, maybe the horses had tired quickly in the heat, but she longed for news.

Getting back to being useful she started making her way around Alexandria, using her clipboard to shield Ally's beautiful soft skin from the hot sun. These days they had a population of almost one hundred and twenty, and even with the numerous expansions they were full to the brim in their houses, but they still had to accomodate extra guests from every community. One of their brownstones served as a guesthouse, a place where any visitor could hang their hats if they so wished, but it wouldn't be nearly enough to accommodate the influx of almost sixty wedding guests.

Consulting her list of guest allocations she went house to house and double checked things, ensuring each host had received their extra rations of food and toiletries, that the accomodations were ready for the imminent arrivals. Really she ought not make such a fuss, the guests were not expecting a room at the Hilton, but Carrie wanted everything to go smoothly, and not just for Carl and Enid's peace of mind.

The wedding was the first event for the communities since Negan's death, the first big occasion they had looked forward to. As expected there had been the initial reactions to the death, some people outraged and accusatory, some smug that it had finally happened, but Carl and Enid's engagement had given people something else to focus on, something to celebrate. As usual it was them bringing the communities back together, the newest generation that seemed to be universally trusted and respected no matter what. But for one person in particular Negan's death had changed things a great deal…Maggie.

While she knew she didn't have to put on a show of perfection for Maggie, Carrie wanted everything to feel like home for her. This would be the first time since the end of the war five years ago that Maggie had set foot in Alexandria, and to make it an even more momentous occasion she was bringing Herschel with her, introducing him to his first home and showing him where his father was buried. It was this that constantly lingered in the back of Carrie's mind, and the small hope that Maggie might be coming home for good. She had heard rumours of it, an offhand remark Daryl made not long ago…Maggie might be coming home.

Months had passed, but the spectre of Negan still lingered in the back of her mind. What she did to him was wrong, hypocritical, and what she did to him five years ago was wrong too. It had taken her some time to really come to terms with it, to accept that the two wrongs did not make things right, but it was easier these days. Often times it still felt like Negan was a spectre lingering over her shoulder, but her feelings towards him were not resentful and angry anymore.

Ally had provided a much needed distraction in the aftermath of his death, arriving early on the first of January, and since then Carrie hadn't had much time or energy to keep Negan in her thoughts. But the day before her birth she had asked to be taken out to his grave, asking Rick to allow her that much even though she was heavily pregnant, even though it must be quite a journey. Much to her surprise he had reluctantly agreed to take her out, though the suspicious part of her wondered if the place he took her to really was Negan's grave, for it was surprisingly close to Alexandria, only a two hour journey by horse and cart.

At his supposed graveside Carrie had stood there, trying not to feel guilty for wanting to pay her respects to the man who had terrorised and murdered her friends. No cross or headstone had been erected to mark the burial site, and feeling that it was a step too far she hadn't brought flowers. She simply stood there at the grave, bundled up in scarves and a thick winter coat and praying that it didn't start to snow, for the weather sure was turning that way. Rick had given her space and privacy, allowing her to work through whatever it was on her mind, to process the anger and resentment so that she could finally move on.

In the end they didn't stay long, Carrie suggesting they head home after only thirty minutes. Not wanting to panic Rick she didn't mention that she could feel her Brixton Hicks contractions beginning to hurt, that she sensed their daughter's arrival was only a few hours away. She had been right of course, and on the last day of the year she said her final goodbyes to Negan, putting him to rest so that he could no longer haunt her. Only twenty minutes into the new year Ally had been born, and though she was earlier than expected Carrie liked to think that it was as if she knew that her parents needed a new start, that the first day of the new year was the perfect time to meet them.

Having checked on all the guest accommodations Carrie made her rounds again, passing another hour as she checked in on the rest of the work and preparations going ahead. One half of the tent was erected, a small crowd having gathered to watch the spectacle of triumph and failure unfolding, and it was here she joined Amber and her boys. The babies played on a picnic rug together, Mason and Alistair eleven months old and looking at Ally in curiosity and wonder. She could see the two brothers' minds ticking over as they studied her, while Ally was just delighted having someone paying attention to her, always wanting to be the centre of attention. The twins were cute, but Carrie still could not pick them apart from one another, though Amber proudly boasted she could tell them apart by the smell of their diaper.

"Mo-om!" Judith was yelling, sprinting down the road towards her. "Mom, they're here!"

Carrie's heart leapt into her throat, and she breathed a great sigh of relief at this news. Elsewhere people were looking up, the last half of the tent fluttering back to the ground as people stopped paying attention. "How many carts?"

"I don't know," Judith shrugged breathlessly, excitedly jiggling on the spot. "I could see Tilly, I could see her from the watch post!"

"Go tell Dad," she instructed, looking around for Rick as she got up from the picnic rug. "Quick, tell Dad."

While she sprinted off to find him Carrie swooped down and picked up Ally from the blanket, giving her diaper a quick sniff. Opening the satchel of supplies she carried everywhere she made quick work of changing her, putting up with her protests and cries now that she wasn't playing with the other babies. She lingered a moment longer, straightening Ally's clothes and fixing her hair one last time, and then they set off together.

Rushing down to the gate she arrived as just the first of the convoy passed through the gates, people already milling around to welcome them. Sitting up front was King Ezekiel and Jerry, and though she warmly greeted them with a wave there was no denying who she was most excited to see. Jumping down from the back of the cart was Carol, her grey hair longer than Carrie had seen it in months.

"Carol," she sighed, embracing her tightly. "God, it's been too long."

"I know, I know," she said kindly, patting her on the back as they embraced. But a moment later she pulled away, giving Carrie an apologetic smile as she reached her arms out. "Give me that baby. Give her to me!"

Beaming with pride she passed Ally over, the six month old going without protest. Happy to be with anyone who would give her a smile Ally just looked at Carol sweetly, reaching up and grabbing at her hair and face.

"You really are a perfect little cherub, aren't you," Carol crooned, peppering her face with kisses. "It's me, your Aunty Carol. She's grown," she exclaimed, affectionately pinching the rolls of baby fat on her thighs.

"You haven't seen her since she was ten weeks old."

"She's absolutely gorgeous," she complimented, straightening her dress and then stroking her blonde curls. "Look at you gorgeous girl. Now, I should warn you," Carol began seriously, gesturing down the road to where the next cart was approaching. "Daryl's named the baby, and Lana's not happy."

"Ahh," she cringed, having foreseen this. "Ned?"

"Ned. I think it's a sweet name for a little boy," Carol admitted. "But Lana hates it. I think that's mainly why he likes it."

"He's screwing with her, always looking for a way to…" Carrie trailed off now, her eyes widening as she looked at Henry who was unloading the cart, shocked to see how tall he was. "Carol, what on earth have you been feeding that boy?"

"Apparently not enough," Ezekiel answered, coming over and embracing Carrie. "He's going to eat you out of house and home."

"He's tall enough to hunt Geese with a rake," Carol said affectionately, passing Ally over so he could hold her. "He's as tall as Ezekiel."

"And this is Alexandria's heavenly namesake," he said in wonder, admiring her before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Pleased to meet you, Alexandria Grimes."

Still content to be passed around Ally lunged for his dreadlocks, bouncing around in delight as she grabbed a fistful and tugged. She laughed at his yelp of pain, much like she did when tugging on Rick's beard, and concerned for Ezekiel's scalp Carrie apologetically freed him from her clutches. He doted on Ally a little longer, passing her around to Jerry and Nabila who also marvelled over her, but she soon started fussing, not content until she was returned to Carrie's arms. Wishing she had remembered to bring the wrap she shifted Ally's weight onto her hips, relieved when she went back to her usual cheerful self, looking around and calling on everyone to give her attention.

Having abandoned the tent Judith and Calvin were breathlessly arriving on scene, all but ignoring their Aunty Carol as they stood in the open gate and looked out. The next horse and cart was closing in, but now able to see the walls one of the occupants had fearlessly jumped down and set off at a sprint. Matilda was running as though her life depended on it, leaving Daryl no choice but to wearily get out and follow her. As they waited Judith and Calvin anxiously jittered, making Carrie head over and grasp them each by their shirts, preventing them from running out into the Walker infested world.

"I'm never going again!" Matilda shouted, her long blonde hair trailing behind her as she ran straight into Judith and Calvin's waiting arms. "Never - ever - ever again!"

The three children almost fell over as they hugged one another, Matilda still declaring her refusal to ever return to the Kingdom. Behind her Daryl walked through the gates, looking both relieved and fed up, and his only greeting to Carrie was a cursory pat on the shoulder as he passed her by.

"She didn't have a good time?" she asked, trying to hold back a smile.

Already heading home Daryl slowed to a stop, looking at his daughter and then back at Carrie. "Y'know how some animals eat their young?"

Carrie just laughed, and as he walked away she turned to Carol for a better explanation. "She had a wonderful time at the Kingdom," she assured her. "Until she had to sit in a cart and be quiet for another seven hour journey."

A few moments later the second cart arrived with Lana in the back. Her belly had grown a little, she was five months pregnant by now and looked fantastic, and as usual she was glowing radiantly.

"You wanna keep my kid?" she asked, she and Carrie embracing. "Even Daryl's fed up with her," she laughed, beginning to walk around in order to stretch her legs. "He kicked her out of the cart, made her jog just so she'd quit complaining."

"Did it work?" she asked, moving Ally to her other hip.

"No, she's fit for a four year old."

"How'd her surgery go? Grommets in okay?"

At this Lana smiled, something for her to be relieved about. "When she woke up Daryl was holding her, and she complained about his beard scratching her face. She's fine, didn't even know she'd had them put in."

"That's a relief," Carrie smiled, glad to hear Matilda's recurring ear infections would be no more. "How's little Ned doing?"

Lana sighed in frustration, narrowing her eyes. "Not you too. He's got everyone calling the baby Ned."

"Ned Dixon has a good ring to it."

"He's tried to tell me its his dad's name," she said incredulously, proudly sticking her little belly out. "But that's bullshit, he'd never name his son after that arsehole. He only likes it because I hate it. It's the name of a bloody Bush Ranger."

"Do you really hate it? Really?" Carrie pressed, remembering a time when Lana too thought it was sweet. "If you really hate it, tell him you dated a boy named Ned. Worked with Rick, and he was dead set on Joseph for a month."

"Thanks for the tip," she sighed, reaching up and taking some of the bags from the cart. "The Hilltop carts are just down the road, we met up with them halfway."

"Maggie? Did she say anything?" she asked eagerly, able to see the other horse and carts closing in on Alexandria. "How long is she staying?"

Lana looked at her apologetically. "They didn't seem to have a lot packed. Supplies for trading, but not a lot of personal things."

Disappointment welling up in her throat Carrie took a moment to herself, nodding slowly. "Okay, thanks," she said awkwardly, forcing a smile as she looked down at Ally, seeking comfort in her happy expression.

"They're settled there. They have friends, Herschel has school…" Lana said kindly, touching her arm. "Doesn't mean she won't came back one day."

Carrie nodded again, finding it easier to hold back the disappointment now. "One day," she said hopefully.

Leaving Matilda to play with the other kids Lana started collecting their belongings from the cart, yelling for Daryl to come and get his stuff. He had stopped further up to talk to Rick, and as Lana approached they went their separate ways, Daryl looking guilty as he hastened to help her with the bags. He didn't tend to dote on her the way she'd like, not even when she was pregnant, but he could usually take a hint when it was shoved in his face.

Joining her down at the gate Rick quickly set about welcoming those who had arrived, shaking Jerry's hand and embracing Carol, the two of them commiserating about their greying hair. Meanwhile Carrie lingered at the open gate, bouncing Ally to keep her happy while Maggie's horse and cart drew closer. Her heart ached with joy as Maggie waved to her, and sitting beside her was a black haired little boy who was unmistakably Herschel. With her encouragement he started waving too, but quickly his attention was elsewhere. He was looking around in absolute awe, having not left the safety of The Hilltop in well over six years. As they drew nearer Carrie couldn't help but stare at him in longing, for she hadn't seen him in person for almost two years, seeing him only in the occasional photograph that was exchanged. His resemblance to Glenn grew stronger with each passing month, as did the pain in acknowledging this.

A moment later Rick appeared by her side, his hand resting on her lower back as they waited together. Moving closer to him she looked him up and down, conscious that he too was holding out hope for Maggie's return, and quietly she mentioned what Lana had told her, that it looked like Maggie had only packed light. He simply nodded, and given he was the one who travelled to Hilltop most frequently perhaps he understood better than she that Maggie was settled, that coming back to Alexandria was never going to be a permanent move.

When the carts came safely through the walls Maggie stood up, jumping down to the road before they had really slowed to a stop. For a moment Carrie just looked at her, admiring her longer hair and the way her features had changed, the lines on her face that the years and wisdom had given her. But the wide smile Maggie gave was like an instant icebreaker, and suddenly it didn't feel like it had been two years, but that it was just any other day and no time at all had passed.

"It's so good to see you," Maggie implored as they hugged, the two friends holding one another for a long moment.

"You too," Carrie said sincerely. "We're so happy you're here."

"I know, me too," Maggie replied, holding her a little longer before slowly stepping back. Her eyes were warm with kindness as she smiled, turning her attention to Ally. "Can I?"

"Of course," she acquiesced, turning a little and encouraging Ally to reach out.

She fussed a little, strange behaviour for her, but she settled when Maggie took hold of her and brought her close, holding her securely as she spoke to her. "Hello Miss Ally," she said warmly, kissing her on the cheek. "I've been waitin' so long to see you, yes I have. Herschel, come down and meet your cousin."

Standing up in the cart Herschel was looking down at them apprehensively, his shyness making Rick come forward and reach a hand out. Though his expression seemed to indicate familiarity with Rick he didn't come forward, but a smile grew on his face as he said something quietly, something that made Rick give a heavy sigh.

"Go on then," he said, stepping back from the cart and holding both hands up. "Ready?"

"Ready," Herschel agreed, taking a step back before rushing forward and leaping down from the cart, letting Rick catch him.

"Oh, got you!" Rick exclaimed, pretending to let him fall a little before swiftly lifting him back up. "Hi there big guy," he said happily, holding the six year old on his hip. "Look at you, bigger every time I see you."

"Yup," Herschel said proudly, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "When are you coming to visit again?"

"Maybe next month," Rick assured him, bringing him over to Carrie. "You remember your Aunt Carrie?"

Though Herschel gave her a polite nod he started to shy away, clenching his hands into Rick's shirt and then hiding his face. "Don't worry about him," Maggie said in exasperation, bouncing Ally a little. "He can't decide if he's shy or outgoing. It changes minute to minute."

"That's okay," Carrie assured her. "Kids are like that sometimes," she said, looking around as Judith, Carl and Matilda slowly approached, scoping out the new kid they probably didn't recognise as their cousin.

As they all made acquaintances again Carrie watched on fondly, her heart fit to burst with joy the longer she watched Rick and Herschel together. It was clear they had good rapport with one another, particularly so now that he was back to visiting Hilltop once a month, and it made her feel so happy that even after everything that had maintained the relationship with Glenn's son.

It meant a great deal to them both, but to Rick in particular, who although mourned the loss of everyone who died in the war still felt particularly heartbroken by Glenn's death. Perhaps it was just one of those things he would never quite fully get over, something that would always haunt him in the silent hours of the night when one's mind would wander…but the relationship with Herschel made it bearable.

"Here he is" Carol cried, opening her arms to Carl who had come down to meet them. "You'll make a fine groom once I trim that mop on your head."

Carl chuckled as he hugged her. "I knew that would be the first thing you said."

Immediately everyone's attention turned to Carl, him being the major reason they were all there together, ready to celebrate his wedding to Enid. Having also missed him Herschel was rushing over to him, abandoning Rick in favour of his favourite Uncle Carl. Like Rick did, Carl picked Herschel up and rough housed with him, making the other kids giggle and laugh. Carl's approval of the new kid seemed to be enough for them, and they all seemed a little more confident when they approached him now. As she watched them Carrie wondered how much of Herschel they really remembered, for it had been two years since they saw him in person, since they had been at the Hilltop when Rick was injured.

"We've packed light," Maggie said, still holding Ally who was content in her arms. "But we're thinking of staying two or three weeks. I'd like to use the lake to properly teach Herschel how to swim."

Carrie's heart soared, for most were planning to head home in a few days. "You're more than welcome," she said immediately, not even needing to consider it. "Stay as long as you want."

Maggie smiled, taking Herschel's hand when he returned to her side. "Well what I want now is a stiff drink. Can you help me with that?"

Grinning, Carrie nodded and then hastened to start unloading their belongings from the cart, thanking Alden who passed down the packs. Another cart had arrived now, people like Tara, Jesus and Kal coming down to greet them, but though she was pleased to see them she made a point of sticking with Maggie, helping her and Herschel bring their things up to the house where they would be staying. With them they carried a large garment bag and sewing kit, and when they safely hung it up in Judith's wardrobe Maggie let her take a peek at Enid's finished wedding dress, one she and Maggie had made together.

Though they had kids running around their ankles and an abundance of work to do, Carrie poured them both a drink, and together they relaxed on the porch back at home catching up. They talked with such ease and familiarity that it was easy to forget all they had been through, why it had been so long since Maggie had come to Alexandria. Though the topic was sure to come up at some stage, particularly if she was staying on after the wedding, Carrie didn't even spare a passing thought for Negan, and later she would suspect that Maggie hadn't either.

As the day drew to a close and the bachelor and bachelorette celebrations began, Carrie knew that Alexandria and the communities had turned a corner.

"Rick…Rick, can you get up…please?" A long sigh followed, echoed by a little whine that came from inside the crib. "I know you're awake…"

Laying in a state of semi-consciousness Rick groaned in response, giving up trying to pretend he couldn't hear Carrie's plea for help. Nevertheless he delayed a little longer, the whine of discontent from the crib growing louder as he felt an elbow shoved into his lower back.

* * *

"Please Rick…she needs a bottle."

He groaned again, not wanting to do it. "Can't you feed her?"

"I've been drinking. She won't take a bottle from me when my boobs are right there," Carrie sighed, already turning over and going back to sleep. "Please…I'm tired."

 _You're_ _hungover_ , he thought unkindly. It wasn't that she didn't deserve an evening on the drink to celebrate Enid's bachelorette party, it's just she wasn't the only one who enjoyed a big night. Carl's stag night had been a hit, an evening of Mario Kart and poker with more than enough beers to go around. Maybe if he waited long enough Ally would go back to sleep, would forget that she was hungry…

It was raining. That was just about the only thought that registered other than the desire to go back to sleep.

Hearing his little girl calling out again he forced his mind to switch off, his body automatically beginning to rise to tent to her needs. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up, having been confronted with Calvin's butt in his face, the now five year old laying upside down with his feet up on the headboard. It wasn't unusual to find him like that, for even in his sleep he didn't sit still, always tossing and turning. Judith slept a little more comfortably snuggled up against Carrie's back, both kids having abandoned their sleeping bags on the floor and crawling into bed with their parents. If they allowed it they would sleep in here every night, they normally waited until the morning to come in, but sleeping on the floor last night must have proved too much temptation to resist.

Plucking Ally from the crib he kissed and cuddled her just the way she craved, setting her down to quickly freshen up her diaper. She whined a little longer, lifting her head and looking towards the bed where she could see Carrie sleeping, confirming that she was indeed hungry. Though she hadn't liked it at any stage last night, Ally was going to have to take a bottle again or go hungry. Creeping through the dark house he urgently shushed his baby daughter, begging her to stay quiet for their house full of guests. Of all his children she was the most vocal regardless of whether she was happy or sad, loving to make good use of her vocal cords at any opportunity.

The house was silent and still, every noise Ally made feeling even louder than it really was. She started fussing when he turned on the light in the kitchen, hiding her face when he opened the refrigerator and fetched a bottle of milk Carrie had prepared yesterday. Putting up a fight already she arched her back as if trying to flee his arms, but he didn't take it personally. Trying to keep her quiet he tided her over, scooping a spoonful of stewed pumpkin into her mouth. Blinking in surprise she smacked her lips together, moving her mouth and tongue as she tried to manage the strange texture in her mouth. They only started her on solids a few days ago, and though she had been happily gnawing on crackers she was still getting used to soft foods. As she tried to eat she kept pushing it out of her mouth, smacking her lips as she curiously looked back into the refrigerator, wondering what it was.

"You like that?" he asked, getting her another spoonful. As she worked the food around in her mouth he used the spoon to clean her up, ensuring none went to waste. "It's sweet, I bet you like it."

With the refrigerator open he held her on his hip as he gave her a third mouthful, anything to keep her from crying and waking their numerous guests. It was a full house at the moment, as evidenced by how untidy and disorganised their home had become, not that it mattered to them. As she licked her lips and opened her mouth for another spoonful he looked around, liking the sight of the extra shoes at the front door, the coats slung over chairs and food and various supplies strewn about. The only thing he didn't like was the sight of rain on the windows, the heavy rainfall on the roof.

He ought to put Ally in the highchair to feed her, but he held her instead, trying to revel in every moment with her. He and Carrie had decided that she would be their last, a decision that didn't quite feel certain until after she was born and their family felt complete. With that he had summoned the nerve to go to Saddiq for a vasectomy, making sure they had sustainable contraception for many years to come. But with Ally being their last came the urge to spoil her rotten, and though he disliked the notion of the youngest child being a spoiled brat he found he couldn't help himself at times. He just wanted her to stay little forever…hell, he wanted all his children to stay young, to never grow up and really face the horrors of this world, dead walking or not.

The front door opened and closed, the increasing volume of the rain alerting him to this fact, and giving Ally the spoon he closed the refrigerator and crept into the hallway. Through the darkness he caught sight of a figure climbing the stairs, a silhouette he would never fail to recognise.

"Sneaking in to see your bride?"

Carl stopped in his tracks, giving a heavy sigh as he turned and looked down. "It's raining."

"I know."

"Dad," he said heavily, emphasising his words. "It's raining."

"I know," he repeated, trying to convey a sense of calm and level headedness. "There's nothing we can do exact wait and see how the weather turns. Go back to bed," he added. "With or without your bride, just get some sleep."

Carl didn't move, not an inch. Instead he stood there looking down at him, anxious and worried, asking his dad for a solution to the problem, and Rick knew he was never going back to sleep. He glanced at his watch, seeing that it was a little after four in the morning. With a great sigh he gestured for Carl to come down and join him in the kitchen.

"Put on some coffee," he requested, gesturing to the glass jar their house had been rationed. Alexandria had received some coffee in a recent trade, and everyone was so happy there was talk of a public holiday to commemorate. "We can sit up and talk if you want."

As Carl turned on the coffee machine he continued tending to Ally, fetching her a bottle of milk and somehow convincing her it was worth giving a try. Carrie didn't often have to express milk for her, but with the bachelorette party coming up she had been stockpiling enough that she could enjoy herself without concern. With reluctance Ally took her bottle and started drinking, still snuggled up with him as he and Carl made their way outside onto the porch. It was warm out, but with the rain falling he made sure to keep her warm with a blanket from the couch, and he watched her expression change as she looked around and listened to the rain, trying to recall when she had last seen this.

"It's all going to be fine," Rick began, seeing how anxious and worried Carl was. "Even if the rain doesn't let up, it's not catastrophic. It's actually good luck."

Carl scoffed at this, looking glum as he put his feet up on another chair. "It's bucketing down…we can't get married in this."

"The church does have a roof."

"We'll be lucky to fit in the church already," he complained. "And what about after? Even with the tent it's still going to be shit."

Rick didn't make any comment to this, letting Carl vent his concerns, getting them off his chest. With fondness he thought back more than twenty years ago to his wedding to Lori, all the stress and planning that went in to it. They hadn't much money back then, they had worried and scrimped every penny to pay for it, but once the celebrations got started they didn't spare a single thought for the cost, they were having too much fun. Carl would be worried right now, no doubt Enid was laying awake upstairs miserably listening to the rain, but everything would work out just fine. Even if they had to postpone a day or two, none of the guests needed to rush back to their respective communities.

"I suppose this is a good'a time as any to ask," Rick began lightly. "Any cold feet?"

Carl looked around in surprise, but his answer was certain. "No. No cold feet."

Trusting him, Rick nodded, but he continued. "There's a bit of pressure on you. Everyone's come so far, they're excited….doesn't mean you have to get married if you don't want to."

"You think I want to do a runner?"

"No," he began, choosing his words carefully to convey his unwavering support. "But if you did, you would have my unconditional support. Whatever you need, I'm here."

Carl laughed a little uncomfortably, putting his head back and closing his eye for a few moments. "Nah Dad, I'm okay."

"I'm your best man, this is part of my job," he said lightly. "Giving the groom a way out at the last minute."

"Did Shane do that for you?

He nodded, remembering fondly. "He told me if I wanted to leave he and I would get in the car and drive to Vegas. He already had your Grandpa prepped to break the news to Lori if I did make a run for it."

Carl laughed in amusement, sitting up and looking at him. "Seriously? What a jerk."

Rick shook his head, disagreeing. "It sounds like he was being asshole, but he wasn't. It was nice knowing that I didn't _have_ to get married, that he wouldn't think badly of me. Same with you. There's a lot of pressure, a lot of expectations from the communities. But you don't have to get married if you're not ready."

"Do you think I shouldn't?"

"That's not what I'm saying. This is about what you want. Do you want to marry Enid?"

"I do" he said emphatically. "See? I'm practicing my vows already."

Leaving the discussion there Rick nodded in understanding, not trying to add any more pressure or make Carl justify anything. Though in the back of his mind he feared that nineteen was too young to marry he knew that things were different these days, that Carl was not a young college kid still figuring his life out. He had plenty of life experience in this new world, the only challenge would be actually being married, and people of any age would naturally find that appropriately challenging.

"So, go on then," Carl prompted, sipping his coffee. "Between mom and Carrie you've been married over two and a half decades. What's the secret?"

"The secret? I'm still trying to figure that out," he said, not entirely joking. But when he saw Carl was genuinely waiting for an answer he sobered, giving it some thought. He cast his mind over his two marriages, both the good and the bad parts, recognising his faults and his successes. "All the normal things you have in any relationship. Enid's your partner, you have to communicate with her, and you have to be willing to listen."

"That's all you got? Communicate?"

"It's a big part of marriage. Communication can be the difference between a debate and a full blown argument."

"Let me guess," he said, sounding disheartened. "Next you'll tell me to never go to sleep angry."

At this Rick scoffed, having always detested this advice. "That's bullshit," he said lightly. "Sometimes you need to cool off. Go to sleep angry, try again the next day."

"Okay."

"Sorry," he apologised, seeing that Carl wasn't exactly satisfied with the advice so far. "You've got me on the spot here…I should have prepared for this kind of question."

Carl seemed to brush it off, the two of them resuming a comfortable silence. As the rain continued to fall he turned his attention to Ally, whose eyes had closed with the bottle still in her mouth only half finished. But the moment he tried to take it away her eyes flew open, and she made a ravenous growl in the back of her throat as she reached for the bottle again, refusing to let him take it. Readjusting the way he held her he settled her on his other knee, rather enjoying the way she snuggled up against his side and continued drinking, her long eyelashes fluttering as she relaxed. He so rarely got to feed her a bottle like this he wondered why he had bothered protesting when Carrie asked him to get out of bed.

"Alright, listen up," he began, getting his thoughts in order. "You want advice on marriage?"

Carl nodded eagerly, looking at him and paying attention. "I'm listening."

"The woman you marry today is not going to be the woman you're married to in a year," he began, spelling it out as clearly as he could. "She's not the same woman you'll be married to in five years, or in two decades. She's going to change, and so are you."

Following along Carl nodded, taking a deep breath as he listened. "Yeah, I know she'll change. We both will."

"Remember that you're not just committing to Enid as she is now. You're making a commitment to who she's going to be in the future, good or bad. And she's making the same commitment to you as you are now, and in the future."

"Yeah…I guess so."

"The person your mom married all those years ago. I wasn't the same person five years into the marriage, or ten. After the outbreak, after the farm and being on the road…I changed again, and so did she."

Carl nodded, sinking back into his chair and looking out into the dark night as he digested this advise, the kind warning as to what was going to come. He seemed remarkably less content now, his brow furrowed and his mouth set into a thin line.

"If mom didn't die, would you still be together?"

Not at all uncertain, Rick nodded. It felt strange to admit that, especially when he was now remarried with two more children, but it was true. "Your mom and I would have made it. We were committed, good or bad…regardless of the mistakes we both made."

"W-what mistakes did you make?"

Rick's heart faltered, having not seen where he was leading the conversation…but he had to be honest, he owed that much to Carl. "I was afraid," he admitted, having had many years to think his mistakes over. "I was afraid of opening up to her, both before and after the outbreak. I was afraid of hurting her…" he trailed off for a moment, summoning the courage to keep going. "And I was afraid of _being_ _hurt_ by her…so I stopped trying for a while. By the time I would have been ready to start trying again, she was gone. That's not a mistake I want to see you making in your marriage."

Carl held his gaze, slowly nodding. "Communicate?"

"Yes," he said, glad he was no longer brushing that advice aside. "Marriage is not just something you do on your wedding day, it's work," he said candidly, not minding if he came across too blunt or strong. "Your marriage to Enid is going to take work, sometimes every day. Are you willing to do that?"

"Yes."

"Are you willing to work at it, and be committed to her, even when it feels like the marriage is over? Even when it feels like you've got nothing left to work for?"

Carl seemed worried now, and he swallowed heavily. "Yeah," he said softly his voice wavering. "I am."

"Okay then," he breathed, feeling a weight lifting off his shoulders as if the advice dispensed had been weighing him down. "If you're willing to do all that, then get married if that's what you want."

Carl muttered a few words of agreement, confirming again that he was ready for that commitment, but he trailed off into silence. Starting to feel concerned Rick watched him from the corner of his eye, starting to worry he had said the wrong thing, that his advice had been a deterrent. Looking uncomfortable and worried Carl sat in silence, clutching his mug of coffee and staring at it as though it had personally offended him.

With a great lurch Carl leapt to his feet, the patio chairs scraping as he pushed them out of the way and rushed inside. As he disappeared Rick slowly rose to his feet in horror, his heart pounding. _What_ _have_ _I_ _done_? Had his well meaning advice actually scared him off?

"Carl?"

A few moments later he returned to the patio, clutching a sheet of paper and Judith's pencil case from the craft box. "Say all of that again," he said very seriously, turning on an oil lamp as he rummaged around for a sharpened pencil.

"Say what?"

"All of it!" he said urgently, finding a purple pencil and beginning to scrawl onto the paper. "Say it all again. I-I need this for my vows."

Rick blinked at him, relief slowly creeping in as he began to understand. "Vows?"

"We're writing our own vows. I just haven't finished mine."

Letting out a laugh he settled back into his chair, stroking Ally's hair as she neared the end of her bottle. "Looks to me like you haven't started."

With a great sigh Carl looked up, the pencil shaking in his hand. "When did I ever start my homework except the night before?"

"Good Lord," he laughed jovially, beginning to smile. "Hang on, hang on…where did we start?"

"All the stuff about people changing, but you have to put up with them anyway because you're committed."

Grateful that his mind was recalling his earlier words, Rick gave him a nod of reassurance. "I think we can put it a little nicer than that."

Almost an hour later Rick was creeping back upstairs to his bedroom, having sent Carl back to his bed over at Daryl's place. The rain was easing up now, and the house remained quiet and undisturbed, the guests and children still sleeping. Back in his bedroom he cradled Ally as she worked on her second bottle of milk, her eyelids beginning to flutter in satisfaction. It was no surprise to him that Carrie was awake, for she was always up this time of morning for Ally's first feed of the day. She stretched out in the bed as she watched him settling Ally, whispering words of gratitude to him for getting up.

Taking the risk he settled Ally down into her crib, making sure she didn't drop her bottle of milk as he laid a blanket over her lap. There he lingered a little longer with his hand on her chest, watching her fondly as she looked up at him, comforted by his presence. When she was settled he let her be, and with one thing in mind he set about attending to his other kids. Calvin was still small enough for him to pick up, he was fairly easy to relocate back into his sleeping bag on the floor, but Judith took a little more coaxing. As he slipped her out of the bed and into her sleeping bag Carrie watched him with a frown, no doubt questioning why he risked waking the sleeping children. To his relief both children remained silent, Judith's eyes fluttering only when she turned over and snuggled up with her brother, giving a happy sigh.

"You were down there a while," Carrie murmured. "Everything alright?"

Slipping back into the bed and relishing that they had it back to themselves, Rick nodded. "Carl came over, worried about the rain. I gave him some advice…helped him write his wedding vows."

"Now?" she questioned, letting him kiss her on the cheek.

He moved closer to her, settling his hand on her hip as he lay by her side. "A bit late, he knows…he wants you to take a look at them later. You're good with words."

She nodded in agreement, looking rather touched by the request. "What advice did you give him?"

"Mmmm, lots," he murmured. Beneath the lightweight sheet he moved his knee towards her, using it to nudge her legs apart so he could touch her inner thigh. She raised her eyebrow at his bold advance, no doubt smirking at him in her mind.

"Advice like what?"

"I talked to him about sex…" he whispered, leaning over to kiss her again, her lips this time. "Told him not to slack off in the bedroom, to keep things…exciting."

Though she kissed him back, she did seem to roll her eyes at him. Nevertheless he took this as a positive sign, lingering close to kiss her again, using his tongue to coax her lips apart. The rain was the only background noise in their otherwise silent bedroom, making their innocent kiss feel salacious and over the top.

"Rick, the kids."

"They're asleep. If we're quiet, we can get away with it."

Unconvinced, she turned over and looked at Ally in her crib, the little one still awake but gloriously milk drunk, her eyes practically rolling back in her head she was so content. It seemed taking the bottle wasn't so terrible after all. Elsewhere in the bedroom Judith and Calvin were still fast asleep, happy sleeping next to each other the way they liked to. With what sounded like a sigh of both defeat and relief Carrie turned back to him, reaching one hand out and stroking the side of his head.

"Your haircut is nice," she complimented, running her fingers through his newly short curls. "Less wooly mammoth, more hot dad next door."

Holding back a snort of laughter Rick grinned against her lips as they kissed again, his body responding eagerly when she moved her knees apart, welcoming him. Keeping the blankets over them he pushed himself up and moved on top of her, her hands on his hips encouraging him as he pressed himself against her centre. They kissed languidly as his hands roamed her body at leisure, tenderly cupping her breasts before tracing the swell of her soft belly where she carried their children. His lips moved to her neck, tongue and mouth worshiping her skin as he breathed in the smell of her hair, also newly cut.

When she pushed him away he stilled, wondering if he had done something wrong, but her head was turned towards the kids, looking at them nervously. They waited and listened to the sound of them both breathing, Rick resisting the urge to continue for as long as he could tolerate. Letting one hand keep roaming he squeezed the back of her thigh, her ass and legs so heavenly he couldn't ignore them anymore. As he waited for her to be ready he stroked the soft skin on the her thighs, his mind running away with him as he looked down at her, eager to remove her clothes.

Shaking her head in exasperation Carrie kissed him swiftly, but then pushed him off and to her side, taking the opportunity to divest him of his sweatpants and herself of her pyjama shorts. With the sheets shrouding them she straddled him and leant down for a kiss, her hand working him over as his did the same between her legs, beginning to tease her with just a finger. They took their time with one another, not worried about the kids waking up, nor concerned for the necessity of catching up on sleep…when moments like this struck they just had to run with it.

It felt like sheer ecstasy when she finally sank down onto him, this incredible feeling never getting old. He questioned why they weren't doing this every minute of every day, wondering why they wasted their time with anything else. The weight of responsibility, worry and stress melted away, letting him free himself of all things other than her and himself, the primal need they shared right now. Having her on top like this was the fastest way to get her off in a pinch, but for him it was a torture of deprivation, forcing him to watch her breasts through the thin fabric of her tank top, knowing he couldn't touch them the way he wanted to right now, not when she hadn't nursed for hours. He longed to turn her over, to hurriedly thrust into her until he reached his completion, for having her like this was the sweetest torture.

When she climaxed it was with his hand over her mouth stifling her throaty sighs, his other clutching her hip to keep her moving, to extend the pleasure for her. As she satiated herself she lay down on top of him, their hips rocking together until he too finished, a groan hissing silently between his teeth as he held her right there, gyrating on top of him. It was only quick, certainly not the greatest of orgasms they could coax out of one another, but that made it no less perfect.

Though his head was heavy with the desire to sleep he fought to stay awake, wanting to take advantage of every moment…the day ahead was sure to be stressful at times, and moments like this were a welcome precursor. As Carrie lay down beside him they fixed their clothes, knowing the kids would likely join them in an hour or so, and with that in mind round two was probably off the table. He didn't mind though, simply content to have her there beside him, the touch of her as she lay with one leg slung over his knee, her hand resting on his stomach. Not caring that it would eventually become uncomfortable he reached his arm out and brought her closer, letting her rest her head against his shoulder just the way they both liked.

"I can't believe he's getting married today," Carrie murmured.

Rick nodded, those words still feeling strange to hear and say. His son, Carl…getting married. "Lucky him."

Carrie lifted her head. "Was that sarcasm?"

"No," he said honestly, meaning it. "He's lucky."

Satisfied with his answer Carrie fell silent again, her fingers restlessly playing with the fabric of his shirt as they lay there together, listening to the rain that just might postpone the entire wedding.

As he held her in his arms he relished the feeling, the joy of having her warm body against his bringing him a sense of comfort and peace that she had brought into familiarity for him. He dwelled on what he told Carl about struggling to open up to Lori, both before and after the outbreak...but being with Carrie had slowly changed a great deal for him. With Carrie it started as purely attraction, an undeniable lust for one another that grew into trust, comfort...it was through her that he had learned how to open up again, to be completely vulnerable in a way he had never been before in his entire life.

Through her he became ready to love again, a reminder that the horrors he faced were not just so that he could provide for his family, but so that he too could live again. Carrie was the one who brought that understanding to light, and he knew that only through her all those years ago he had started living again.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and steady and he knew he shouldn't wake her...but he did anyway. Turning a little with her in his embrace he brought his lips to the top of her head, kissing her and murmuring into her messy hair.

"Are you awake?"

There came a small rumble from within her throat. "What?"

When he didn't respond she opened her eyes, allowing him to look her in the eye. For a few moments he simply held his gaze, feeling foolish for waking her. She looked at him expectantly, her eyes dropping as he stroked her hair and considered what he wanted to say, wishing he could find the right words.

"I love you," he said sincerely, holding her gaze. "More than I know how to say."

"I kno-"

He stopped her from speaking, putting his fingertips on her lips. A part of him still felt foolish for saying this, apprehensive to truly keep opening up to her, but that was feeling smaller and smaller with each day that passed. "You are the love of my life."

For a few moments she was simply silent, laying there beside him and looking at him through the dim light of their bedroom. She pushed herself up on her elbow, her blonde hair falling around her shoulders like an angelic halo, and he couldn't help but feel it was particularly appropriate.

"I always knew Logan wasn't the love of my life," she murmured, reaching out and putting her hand on his stomach, resting just over the place the rebar impaled him. "I suppose I didn't put much importance on it back then."

He let this thought linger a moment, knowing that she didn't speak of Logan and her old life very often. "And now?"

"Now...it's more important than ever. I knew a long time ago you were the one."

Though he had always felt and known this before this moment, hearing the words from her made it mean all the more. Moving onto his side he gave her a light kiss in thanks, glad when he felt her pulling at his shirt to bring him closer, their lips lingering together as they shared one another's breath. _I_ _love_ _you_ , came her whisper in the darkness, her lips brushing against his as she spoke. _I_ _love_ _you_ _too_ , he whispered in response.

Without regard for the time or potential interruptions she pulled him back on top of her, parting her knees and welcoming him against her again. They kissed languidly, neither rushed nor time bound, simply content to enjoy one another. He wanted to bury himself inside her, but it wasn't lust talking this time, and it wasn't their dry spell either. It was the closeness he craved, and he could feel that she did to. When he kissed her neck he exalted in the breathy sigh she made against his ear, the way her fingertips stroked his side before slipping under his shirt to touch his skin. Soon after she reached between them, making her intentions clear.

At her prompting he lowered her pyjama pants and then his own, sinking inside her with a moan he was forced to stifle. As he started stroking himself in and out of her he kept the pace slow, pushing himself up a little so he could properly see her, could kiss her. For a brief moment she became distracted, her eyes darting left to Ally in the crib, and then right towards the kids on the floor, ever alert for the sound of them waking up.

He had known for a long time that he would spend this life with Carrie, that the idea of growing old together wasn't just something people said. For them, he just knew that they were going to make it to that point together, even in the world occupied by the dead.

* * *

By late afternoon the wedding was over. The rain had completely ceased by the time the sun rose, but judging by the dark shadows beneath Enid's eyes it had kept her up all night with worry, just like it did to Carl. But the rain had cleared to make way for another hot and sunny day, the damp ground and canvas tent drying out remarkably quickly, making way for the decorations and set up required to host the party everyone was looking forward to that afternoon.

There had been so much going on that morning, so much to take care of, but Carrie still found the time to miss Rick. That day she couldn't help but feel like a love sick teenager for how she wanted to be with him, especially after what he said to her in the early hours of that morning. But he was too busy to linger in bed that morning, staying only long enough to change Ally's diaper and then put her into bed with Carrie and the kids, Judith and Calvin having of course made their way back in the moment they started to rouse.

"I'll miss you," Carrie murmured, sitting up and tilting her head towards him for a kiss.

"You too," was his automatic response.

When she grabbed at his shirt he came back to her, affording her a proper kiss more fitting to the morning of their sons wedding, but he really couldn't linger. Wedding or not there was the usual work to be done with the livestock, and she had no doubt that Carl would be waiting downstairs to join his dad, the two of them going about their usual morning routine together. As she lay in bed with the kids she imagined father and son working side by side, Carl practicing his newly written vows while Rick calmed his last minute jitters.

It was much the same in their household that morning, everyone helping to calm Enid's wedding day jitters and generally fuss over her. They all kicked back with a champagne breakfast and facial, cool slices of cucumber soothing Enid's tired eyes as she got a little more rest after her sleepless night. With the exception of Ally, all other kids had been sent to spend the morning with Lana who was tasked with keeping the kids entertained and organised throughout the day, allowing the others the chance for peace and quiet as they prepared Enid for the wedding.

She saw Rick briefly halfway through the morning, catching him as he came home from tending to the livestock. Trying not to disturb the celebrations he simply slipped inside and headed for the shower, Carrie following ten minutes later to ensure he was dressing in the clothes she had set out, determined he wasn't wearing his ratty old jeans to his son's wedding. They managed to find a middle ground, Rick settling on a less worn pair of jeans in exchange for combing his hair to her satisfaction.

"If the groom's wearing jeans, I'm wearing jeans," he argued, pulling on the ironed shirt she had set out for him.

"Jeans?" Carrie questioned in outrage. "Does Maggie know about this? Does Carol?"

"He's not afraid of either of them," he teased, kissing her on the cheek as he passed by, still doing up his buttons. "He's got a wife to be afraid of now."

"And when did you stop being afraid of your wife?"

"Hard to be afraid of you when you're wearing a mud mask."

In exasperation she let him go, knowing if he wore jeans to their wedding he wouldn't be talked out of it. Besides, it didn't matter what anyone wore that day, not even Enid who could wear a potato sack and still look beautiful. Today came down to so much more than what people were wearing or the decorations inside the tent. More than just a wedding, today was about all the communities coming together to celebrate and be one again.

Nevertheless, the wedding had been perfect. Carl and Enid had decided that if the communities were going to make a fuss they might as well do the whole thing properly, like weddings used to be back in the old days. The Alexandrians and all the guests had crammed themselves into the church while Carl, Rick and Michonne stood at the front with Gabriel, awaiting the bride who was appropriately late. The kids were nicely dressed, wearing clothes so nice that Carrie didn't normally keep them in their wardrobes, and blessedly Ally slept through the entire ceremony, silent instead of her usual chatty self.

Carl had drawn the line at wearing a suit, simply pairing his jeans with a nice linen shirt he ironed and tucked in, his hair tied back in its usual pony tail, yet still somehow he managed to pull it off and look respectable for his bride. Michonne and Rick were his groomsmen, and throughout the wedding Carrie kept taking her attention from the ceremony and turning it to her own husband instead, watching the emotions playing out over his face. The joy and happiness he felt for his son were readily evident, as was the relief that he had been able to provide this life for his family, a life where Carl could marry the one he loved in front of his friends and family.

Enid looked gorgeous in the wedding dress Carol and Maggie had made for her, and when she arrived with Maggie and a friend as her bridesmaids Carrie couldn't help but tear up a little, because it really did feel just like the old days. Judith and Calvin spent most of the ceremony sitting silently in the front pew together, Calvin swinging his legs back and forth out of boredom, but when their big moment came they performed perfectly. At Rick's prompting they came up to the front and dutifully handed over the wedding rings to their big brother and new sister, and though their part in the ceremony was only small it meant a lot to them.

The party after the wedding had gone well, everyone managing to pull together to serve food and drinks, Carl and Enid's friends managing the music while people danced and had a good time. Aaron was making his way around taking photographs, and though it proved to be quite the ordeal getting so many people in one place at a time, they did manage to get some photos of the whole family, the original group who arrived in Alexandria all those years ago. It still hurt knowing that there were so many absent that day, people like Glenn and Abraham, Carl's mom Lori, but the day hadn't been wasted or dampened by their losses.

Now the newly expanded Grimes family were being herded together, Enid asking for one more picture with her now official in-laws. Feeling a little stressed Carrie was bouncing Ally up and down on her hip, the six month old nearly at her wits end after a long day. As they stood together and waited for Aaron she felt Rick's arm slide around her waist, and as she knew it would it began to slide down her hip towards her ass.

"Rick Grimes," she said sternly. "Wrangle your children instead of my ass."

With expertise he reached out for Judith and Calvin, grabbing them by the back of their clothing and bringing them back as they started to sneak away. "Behave yourselves for five more minutes."

"Can we have some more cake?" Judith asked, still licking frosting off her lips.

"No, now stand still," he said sternly. But his brow furrowed as he crouched down to look at her more closely, reaching out for a lock of her hair. "What is this? Is this cake or mud?"

"Calvin!" Carrie cried, lunging for him when she saw him standing up with his hand in his pocket. "That better not be a snail in your pocket!"

He looked up at her wide eyed, hands protectively shielding his pocket from her reaching hand. "Mom, don't!"

"I've told you, no more snails in your pocket!"

"It's not a snail, it's a frog!"

No longer so revolted by the things her children brought home with them Carrie simply reached into his pocket and freed the poor frog, tossing it into a nearby garden bed. Calvin promptly burst into tears, Ally immediately following suit with a loud wail as she too lost her cool. Straightening up Carrie and Rick just looked at one another in exasperation, and she knew immediately the words that were on the tip of his tongue. _They're_ _your_ _kids_.

Carl, Enid and Aaron approached, the newly married couple blissfully ignoring the crying children. Oblivious to almost anything other than each other they were talking sweetly, holding hands as they said something to Aaron, pointing out the location they wanted their next photo taken. Not wanting anything to dampen their day they hastily quietened the kids, Rick handing both Calvin and Judith some candy he had kept in his pockets for this very situation. Taking to the bribe remarkably well Calvin immediately stopped crying, his eyes alight with interest for the very rare treat of candy.

"This is the best day ever," Judith whispered loudly, unwrapping her candy and gazing at it in awe.

"Anything sweet for me?" Carrie asked expectantly.

Feeling rather confident with himself he just leaned in and kissed her. She rolled her eyes at him in amusement, bouncing Ally who was shrieking in disapproval, demanding her own kiss too. When Rick kissed her she settled back into content silence, more interested in looking around at all the exciting things going on than in making a fuss. Taking advantage of the opportune window they hastened over to Carl and Enid while the kids were still happy, the newly expanded family of seven standing together for another photograph.

As they stood together Rick put his arm around her side, tickling Ally's foot to keep her happy and smiling. Beside him stood Carl and Enid, the new couple having eyes for only one another, and Carrie's heart soared when she caught a glimpse of Carl's hand, seeing his wedding ring. A lifetime ago it had been Rick's, and she loved that Carl was wearing it now, that it was no longer a relic of the past but a symbol of his future with Enid.

As Aaron photographed them she moved further into Rick's embrace, enjoying the touch of him up against her side. Returning the favour she slipped her free arm around his side, watching his expression from the corner of her eye as she slipped her hand down to his ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

"How come you're allowed to do that, but I'm not?" he whispered, nuzzling her ear while Aaron paused to adjust the settings on the camera.

"Treat me right and I'll let you look down my dress when we dance."

If he had any protest against being made to dance he wisely kept it to himself, just as he had all those years ago when they danced at their own wedding, a much quieter affair in comparison to this. Once Aaron was done taking their picture they set the kids loose to and handed Ally off to the first person who reached for her. She really was the belle of the ball right now, her happy smile and cheery disposition threatening to upstage the bride and groom, not that they seemed to notice anything outside one another.

As they took to the dance floor with the others the music changed to a slower song, Carl's friends from the Kingdom manning the CD player for the afternoon. Not needing to think about it she and Rick started dancing together, the mood feeling peaceful and romantic. Looking around she breathed a mental sigh of relief that the day had gone ahead without a single problem, that Carl and Enid had a perfect day and the guests from other communities were enjoying themselves too. Everything was fine, and Carrie felt confident and optimistic for the future of all four communities, something she hadn't often felt in the years that had passed.

Moving around the dance floor they passed Lana and Daryl who were dancing, the latter looking like he was there under protest. He was annoyed with Rick who had shown Matilda how to dance with a grown up by standing on their feet, and she had immediately insisted on Daryl dancing with her like that. It had been nice seeing him that way with his daughter, but particularly too with Lana whose resistance to the name he had chosen for their son was wearing down with every passing day. Her belly of five months was cute and petite, and she had seen Daryl brushing his hand over it more than once that day, showing the kind of affection she knew Lana craved from him, from her partner.

"Where do you think we'll be in ten years?" she asked softly, resting her head on Rick's shoulder as they swayed together.

"We'll be grandparents by then."

Carrie nodded in agreement, looking forward to the day that Carl and Enid chose to start a family together. "Won't be long after that we'll be marrying off Judith. Will we still be here, in Alexandria?"

"Do you want to still be here?"

She considered this, having often wondered what else was out there in the world, if there were any countries that had recovered. Surely somewhere in the world there were bigger communities, places that were safer and could provide more stability, could negate the need for them to face the dangerous world of the dead. She had always imagined that places like Manhattan might have eventually recovered, that being water bound would ensure their longevity. If such a place existed it would make sense for them to relocate there, if anything for the security of it. But just as this thought settled she turned her head and looked towards the walls that protected their community. She could just see a glimpse of the names painted there, the people who had helped them build Alexandria, who gave their lives for it.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere but here," she said honestly, tightening her arm around his shoulder. "Not unless we absolutely had to."

"This is our home," he agreed, understanding where she was coming from. "We built this place. Together."

Remembering how far Alexandria had come, how far she and Rick had come together, Carrie smiled in agreement. She lifted her head and looked at him fondly, still unable to believe that after everything she had suffered she managed to find the one in all of this, the love of her life. What a miracle it was that from nothing they had built a life for themselves and their children, so that they could share days like today even amongst a world filled with the dead.

These days, life was good.

* * *

Final A/N

I started writing this story in January 2015 and posted the first chapter of The Stray Passenger in June 2015. From then on I continued to write throughout my university degree, my year studying abroad, graduation and my first two years working full time - I was addicted to Rick and Carrie.

Thanks again for sticking your enthusiasm and support. I genuinely couldn't have done it without knowing that so many people were enjoying the story and felt as invested as I did. I'd also like to thank the people who have helped me write this story such as AngieB who helped so much throughout The New Resident, a great source of ideas, constructive criticism and general banter.

Make sure you're favourited or subscribed to me on this website so you can be updated about my future postings, which may be the occasional chapter of various one shots. There won't be a schedule for these, so getting the automated updates will be important. Don't forget to drop me a line with any specific requests for me to consider.

Thanks again to all my wonderful and faithful reviewers, especially those who had reviewed so very frequently. There are too many to list you all, but I'm seriously grateful to everyone!

Thanks to: CLTex, Nala Syrena, Fester01, Caspersix6six, Sophiewhettingsteel, D-Calif, Keirarose, Missflowergirl13, Awanderingreader, Lilsuccubus, AngieB, Eventualprocrastination, RebornRose1992, Melspringer, Stacey40, BellePheonix, Babylesbian, Arc-shipping99, Codedriver, I Hate the snow, Hpharvliviantojack4ever, Katarzyna88gb, Laura201112, Ren244, Rose, Jofrench22, Hockeyfangirl, Friendlyneighbourhoodhufflepuff, RoweenaJAugustine, Elliewellybear, Breezzylife12, Eve, Gigi, Melissa, Theloveroflit, Clementsc1992, Kara315, Jaspercontrolsmyemotions, Jackie spring, Walkerharley, Vicky4422, Ambray, Hayleyjnewb

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(There are so many more reviewers that I'm so very grateful to also. Thanks everyone!)


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